Arthur & Bernie

Hi, I'm Laura. Arthur is my friend. He's a 90-year-old retired English professor who lives in Manhattan. Bernie was my Pop Pop. He was a business owner in small-town Pennsylvania until he passed away at 96. Me, I'm a gerontologist and a writer, and I'm 32. I blog about intergenerational friendship and age-friendly innovation for AARP. My work has appeared in People, Good Housekeeping, JANE and more.

[arthurandbernie]

How public transportation may work — or not work — for you.

When I think about age-friendly transportation, I think about public transit options first. The bus (or subway or train) is open to everyone, plus I just prefer it. But there are plenty of older people — and people of all ages — who do not, which is what I explore in my latest column for AARP. Come to think of it, I bet Pop Pop would have been in this camp. 

...not everyone is on board with public transportation. Maybe it's in our culture or in the comfort of routine, or perhaps it's related to a deeper stigma. In rethinking our communities to include all generations, we have to be realistic about what people want — and many want cars. That's why I'm encouraged by ride services such as ITNAmerica as well as newer players like Uber and Lyft joining the conversation.

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Girl talk. March 2016, Florida.

My family just got a little more intergenerational! On Friday, March 11, we welcomed my niece Sloane Rochelle to the world. Well, I technically welcomed her to the world the very next day, when I flew down from Pittsburgh.

It is such a blessing to have flexibility at work. Before signing on at my new gig — I’m a project manager launching pilot programs for caregivers and their families — I told my now-boss that my sister would be having a baby this spring. I asked if it might be possible to have some time off to meet him/her. My boss didn’t bat an eye. Of course it was okay! It was more than okay. Take as much time as you need, she told me. 

We should all be so lucky to be seen as an employee and as a person, with older and younger loved ones that need us, and vice versa. That’s what I’m learning in my caregiving work — and also in my auntie work. Little Sloaney Bologna, I’m here and always will be.

[arthurandbernie]

Car-Free Living: A Right for All Generations

Not to brag, but I take the bus to work.

My commute in Pittsburgh is simple: I leave at 7:30 a.m., walk two blocks, wait a couple of minutes, then hop on and ride down the hill. I pull the stop-request cord, thank the driver and stroll around the corner to my office. I'm there by 7:45.

As far as I'm concerned, I've hit the jackpot. No rush-hour headaches, plus I save on gas and parking, and have the luxury to people-watch or zone out for a while. It's easier on the environment, too.

But public transit is not this simple for everyone, especially for older generations who may really need alternatives to driving.

Arthur and Bernie led vastly different lives, Arthur in New York City and Pop Pop in rural Pennsylvania. But they both had trouble getting around the final years of their lives. The communities they loved and actively participated in for eight, nine decades were suddenly closed off to them, just because they couldn’t travel like they used to. It’s not fair, and it’s time we change our communities so that they support their lifelong supporters, like my friend and my grandfather. More in February’s AARP post.

[arthurandbernie]

When All That’s Left Is Love

This poem by Rabbi Allen S. Maller was recited at the memorial service for Pop Pop’s dear friend. It’s perfect and so very true.

When I die If you need to weep Cry for someone   Walking the street beside you. You can love me most by letting Hands touch hands, and Souls touch souls. You can love me most by Sharing your Simchas (goodness) and Multiplying your Mitzvot (acts of kindness). You can love me most by Letting me live in your eyes And not on your mind. And when you say Kaddish for me Remember what our Torah teaches, Love doesn’t die; People do. So when all that’s left of me is love Give me away.

[arthurandbernie]

A Millennial's Musings on Leaving the Nest... Again

About a month ago, I moved out of my mom’s basement. I hadn’t anticipated ever living there, but I did for four months. We did, I should say. My boyfriend and I. And you know what? We had the best time! And all of us — my mom included — miss that special chapter in our lives. I wrote about it over on AARP.

Not everyone is on board with adult children boomeranging back home, and that’s OK. This is perhaps my favorite comment, paraphrased, from the Facebook debate sparked by my October post: “Millennial,” French word for lazy.

People are entitled to their opinions, based on their experiences and worldviews. And in the United States, we value independence, often above all else. For many, 18 is when you strike out on your own, and any deviation from that plan (barring one due to severe illness or the like) is considered a failure to launch. You grow up and you get out, for good.

But is that the only way to do it? No. Is that the best way to do it? I’m not so convinced anymore.

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With Mr. Munro. December 1985, Indiana.

My parents always made sure we knew our neighbors. That included Mr. Munro, not technically a neighbor, but the man who sold us our first house. He inspired my latest post for AARP, about friendship across generational boundaries and those invisible fences we tend to create around us.

There is no substitute for in-person, real-time, phone-down, face-to-face connection. There is no substitute for company. It just may be the best gift we can give each other.

[arthurandbernie]

My grandmother lived with Alzheimer’s disease for years. And for years, my family and I would say things like:

“Alzheimer’s stole her from us.”

“She’s not herself now.”

“She’s a shell of who she was.”

That’s our cultural narrative about Alzheimer’s disease and other forms of dementia — that it’s the aggressor. It has power over us. It can take away our loved ones right before our eyes.

The truth, I go on to say, is that our loved ones are changed, but they are still very much here. And in order to treat them with the respect and unconditional love they deserve, we have to understand them this way. Dr. Bill Thomas inspired this month’s AARP post, and I continue to think about the way our language and our perception impacts our relationships — with people living with dementia and, really, with all the precious people in our lives.

[arthurandbernie]

Learning from each other. November 1982, Indiana.

For this month’s AARP post, I wrote about my Dibi and the language of dementia. This photo of her with my sister Leslie (and our dog Mack) was taken long before Alzheimer’s disease. I love Dibi’s heels, Leslie’s socks and their dark denim. But even more than their outfits, I love their looks — Dibi as the teacher and Leslie as the learner. Years later, as Dibi lived with the disease (yep, “lived with”; not “suffered from” or “battled”), we were all teachers and learners. I am so thankful for the time and love we shared.  

[arthurandbernie]

Manning the carry-ons. August 2015, Dong Hoi, Vietnam.

In Southeast Asia, family is everything. It’s your social circle, your safety net and, in many cases, your neighborhood. (For social science purposes, this got tricky! Indicating closeness with neighbors on a survey, say, might not reveal regular contact outside the family, since many neighbors are family.) As Joe and I traveled together, just the two of us, it was fun to watch the moms and dads and grandparents and little ones traveling in groups. There were fewer solo travelers than you’d find in Western countries — on planes, trains, buses and, seemingly, in life.  

[arthurandbernie]

The other morning, my mom and I sipped coffee and read the Facebook comments on my latest AARP post — all 250+ of them. We giggled and gasped and kept on scrolling. Who knew our living situation would spark this kind of dialogue?

I’m 32 and I live in my mom’s basement.

(For now!)

Everyone has an opinion, it seems. Ours? We see it as a blessing. We know we’ll look back on these months, and wish we could giggle over coffee or take morning walks or cozy up with a glass of wine before bed. Sure, we’ll have these moments together again, but they’ll most likely be on visits or vacations — not in everyday life. So we’re cherishing the time for as long as it lasts, and feeling thankful that life has brought us here.

[arthurandbernie]

With Grandma Jelaine. September 2015, Minneapolis.

If only the whole wide world was like a wedding, with people of all ages coming together to celebrate and dance and wave personalized pennants...

[arthurandbernie]

Parks are public spaces, but they can be very personal ones, too. They can be homes to our daily rituals — from morning jogs to dog walks — as well as our milestone celebrations. They also can be our quiet places of solace after a long day or after a deep loss, as I experienced.

Come September, I often write about end of life as we celebrate the yahrzeits of Dibi and Pop Pop. This year, I shared on AARP about how Governor’s Island and Prospect Park helped me cope and find peace after Pop Pop passed. I love how the post resonated with the environmental community. The Wilderness Society, the American Society of Landscape Architects and Nature Sacred are just three of the organizations that shared it with their followers. 

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Fall, unfiltered. October 2015, Pennsylvania.

I happened upon my great grandparents’ wedding invitation on Saturday. They got married in her parents’ backyard on October 10, 1915 — exactly 100 years ago the evening I read it. And in the house their daughter (my Dibi) built, in the room where their granddaughter (my mom) grew up.

Some things are just magic.

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In early August, the YMCA and U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy teamed up for A New Way to Move, a weeklong initiative promoting physical activity that connects kids and older adults. I wrote about it for AARP.

As a believer in programs and campaigns that build intergenerational solidarity, I’m inspired by this partnership. In a world that’s so often segregated by age, it’s important to have opportunities to come into contact with people of different generations. And if those opportunities get people up and out from behind their screens, too, that’s a win-win.

But why limit it to children and older adults? And why limit it to one week?

Age-friendly areas, or livable communities, aim to engage people of all ages, all year long. While a seven-day initiative is a great start — and a great push to raise awareness — we’re poised to reach higher, in my opinion. Cities, towns and organizations, as well as community members giving back on their own, can provide opportunities for people to move and participate in life together.

Read on to check out my ideas. What are yours?

[arthurandbernie]

An iconic moment. October 1956, New York. 

My dad reminded me that Pop Pop was there when Don Larson pitched the only perfect game in World Series history. Yogi Berra was the catcher. It was 1956 and Pop Pop was on a buying trip to New York for the family clothing store. He happened to snag a seat.

Rest in peace, Yogi. Hugs to Pop Pop.

[arthurandbernie]

Sunday at the races. July 2015, Bangkok.

Going to a live meet at the Royal Bangkok Sports Club has been on our bucket list, so you better believe Joe and I — two Kentuckians! — made it there our last weekend in town. The day didn’t happen without a few stares, though. 

Nearly every single patron was a Thai man in the 60+ age range. 

The demographics got me thinking about naturally occurring hubs of activity for older generations, and how we might be able to focus efforts there. Can everyone who wants to be there get there (i.e., transportation availability)? Might services be offered there, or info about services distributed there? Could these spaces be the “senior centers” of the future, meeting older people where they are, out in the world? I’d like to bet on it, to win.

[arthurandbernie]

Aging in Asia: Takeaways from a Year Abroad

Growing older may be a universal experience, but how we grow old differs across the globe, largely based on culture and on access to public spaces and health care, as well as economic security, housing options and more. Living and learning abroad has given me a chance to witness different ways that people experience life as they age.

I know not everywhere in the U.S. has sidewalks, but I remember feeling shocked when we arrived that so many super-busy spots in Bangkok — a city of more than six million people — were sidewalk-free. This year in Thailand has opened my eyes to so many infrastructural differences and cultural differences that impact quality of life for all ages. It was hard to narrow it down to 500 words, but here’s my attempt for this month’s AARP post.