What Does Elderly Mean to You?

I hate the word elderly.

To me, it seems to mean feeble, forgetful, and frumpy. Newscasters seem to use it when they want to separate older people from the rest of the population—usually when something stupid has happened:

“Elderly man plows through Starbucks storefront window.”

The elderly man was 55.

Television doesn't help.

I recently saw a show featuring a group of women who looked like grandmothers from the 1940s—house dresses, old-fashioned hats, and crackling voices—humming Hot Blooded by Foreigner while ogling a young man.

Hell's Grannies (Monty Python) - couldn't find a good granny pic

There was just one problem. Hot Blooded was popular in 1978. If you were a teenager when it came out, you'd only be in your early sixties today.

Even people my age don't look and talk like that.

The image of “elderly” seems to have been frozen somewhere in the middle of the last century. And that got me thinking about the stereotypes we talked about in the last chapter. Who exactly gets to decide what “elderly” looks like?

So I decided to ask the people around me what elderly means to them.

Apparently, I'm Elderly

I started with a dinner party in my building. Seven out of ten people said they didn't object to the word or to being called elderly. Some didn't even consider themselves elderly.

I was the youngest person at the table—by one year.

One woman considered being elderly a badge of honor.

Another pointed out that Elderhostel had changed its name to Road Scholar. “They dropped the term elder,” she said. “It must have turned some people off.”

I continued asking friends throughout the week.

Our card-playing group joked that we used to have season tickets to plays and concerts and regularly went out at night. “We don't do that much anymore,” someone said. “Maybe that's one sign we're elderly.”

Our group eventually decided that elderly meant anyone ten years older than any of us.

Then one friend's answer stopped me. “I think it has to do with capabilities,” she said. “I know people in their nineties who play tennis, ride 50 miles on their bikes, and could beat anyone in a trivia contest. I wouldn't call them elderly.”

Now that made sense to me.

Is It an Age or a Condition?

So what exactly does elderly mean?

The National Institutes of Health generally uses 65 as the threshold for older adults. Newscasters, on the other hand, seem to set the bar much lower. I've heard people in their fifties and sixties described as elderly.

The dictionary isn't much help. Oxford defines elderly as “old or aging.” Merriam-Webster says “rather old; especially past middle age.”

I liked the synonyms older, senior, and aging. I got a kick out of unyoung.

I did not like ancient, geriatric, or over-the-hill.

And then I found senescence—the process of deterioration with age. No thank you.

I'll stick with unyoung.

There are cultures in which becoming an elder carries a very different meaning. Rather than suggesting frailty, elder can suggest wisdom and experience.

I like that better.

Older Doesn't Mean Unable

Of course, getting older does bring changes. Our eyesight, hearing, muscles, balance, and memory can decline. Sometimes those changes are gradual. Sometimes they arrive suddenly—a fall, an illness, or another unexpected limitation.

But a limitation isn't necessarily a stop sign.

We move the book closer or get stronger reading glasses. We take balance classes. We use a cane or walker when we need one. We find ways to adapt.

There are also things we can do to support our brains as we age—socializing, staying physically active, and getting enough sleep. I even play brain games like Peak and Lumosity. I have no idea whether they actually make me mentally sharper, but playing them makes me feel as though I'm doing something useful. And sometimes that's enough.

Elderly Doesn't Have to Mean Inactive

I have friends who continue to work well into their nineties.

My friends often marvel at how Mick Jagger is still dancing on stage with the energy he had in the 1960s. But I don't need celebrities to prove my point.

Still Dancing - Rita Morena and Mick Jagger (after heart surgery)

My 89-year-old neighbor has macular degeneration. She still plays golf—with the help of friends who do the seeing for her—and uses magnifying devices to read and work on her computer. She continues to participate in the many clubs and activities in our community.

She has lost some abilities. She hasn't stopped living. And perhaps that's the distinction I've been looking for.

So What Is Elderly?

After thinking about the word for a week, I don't hate it quite as much as I used to.

Maybe elderly doesn't have to mean feeble, forgetful, and frumpy.

Maybe age is a number, while elderly describes how much that age limits what we can do.

That doesn't mean we can ignore the changes that come with aging. We can't. Some limitations are real, and some will eventually change our lives.

But older people aren't one thing. We're active and inactive. Stylish and frumpy. Sharp and forgetful. Independent and dependent. Some of us are still working, playing golf, traveling, dancing, and learning new things. Others need considerable help getting through the day.

We're individuals.

I'm proud to live in a community filled with people who are active, stylish, funny, and wise—and also with people who have lost some of their abilities but are still living as fully as they can.

So maybe I've changed my mind. I don't hate the word elderly anymore. I just hate when it becomes a stereotype.

And don't even get me started on OK Boomer. OK Boomer.