Yesterday, I wrote my reflection on Samuel Moyn’s book Gerontocracy in America, a thought-provoking book about the growing influence of older people in American society and the complicated relationship between aging, power, and leadership.
This week, something happened much closer to home that made me think about the subject in a very different way.
The founder and builder of The Heritage Downtown (THD), the senior living community where I have lived for over three years, recently moved here himself. After spending many years in Las Vegas, where the corporate headquarters of THD is located, he decided that his own retirement years should be spent right here in California, among the more than 160 seniors who call THD home.
I found something rather moving about that decision. The man who helped build a community for seniors has now chosen to become one of us. And his decision made me look around.
I began to realize that I am living among an extraordinary collection of accumulated knowledge, experience, talent, and wisdom.
A Community Full of Untapped Knowledge
When we look at the residents of a senior living community, it is easy to see only our ages.
We see walkers, canes, wheelchairs, hearing aids, medications, exercise classes, and doctors' appointments.
But behind those visible signs of aging are decades of accomplishment and experience.
At THD, there are residents who were scientists, engineers, computer experts, chemists, nurses, physicians, psychiatrists, psychologists, teachers, university professors, lawyers, judges, financial officers, business leaders, pilots, flight attendants, rabbis, artists, musicians, singers, philanthropists, and professionals in countless other fields.
Some built companies. Some taught generations of students. Some conducted scientific research.
Some cared for patients. Some flew airplanes. Some practiced law.
Some served their communities. Some made important financial decisions for major organizations.
Some created music and art. Some devoted their lives to helping other people.
And some quietly accomplished things that may never appear in a newspaper, a résumé, or a Google search.
Yet we are all here together. We eat together. We play cards together.
We attend lectures and concerts together. We exercise together.
We celebrate birthdays together. We sometimes complain about the food together!
And, occasionally, we sit down and talk. It is during those conversations that I sometimes wonder:
How much knowledge is sitting around these tables that nobody is asking about?
More Than Our Resumes
I have spent much of my own life in science.
I earned my Ph.D. in Pharmaceutical Chemistry, worked in industry and agricultural research, and eventually spent twelve years with the U.S. Food and Drug Administration as a review chemist and chemistry team leader.
I have written about those experiences many times in my blogs.
But when I look around THD, I realize that my story is only one among many.
Every resident has a story. Every resident has a body of knowledge that cannot be obtained from a textbook.
Every resident has experienced things that younger generations have only read about.
We have witnessed wars, economic depressions and recessions, the arrival of television, the birth of the computer age, the moon landing, the rise of the Internet, the transformation of medicine, the digital revolution, and now the astonishing emergence of artificial intelligence.
We have lived through enormous social and cultural changes.
We have seen America change. We have changed with it.
Some of us came to America from other countries. Some were born here. Some traveled around the world. Some spent their entire lives in one community.
But all of us have accumulated something that cannot be purchased: experience.
Unfortunately, retirement often creates an artificial dividing line.
One day, you are a professional. The next day, you are a "retiree." Your title disappears.
Your office disappears. Your business card becomes irrelevant.
The younger generation takes over. And society sometimes behaves as though your usefulness disappeared along with your job.
But retirement is not the retirement of the mind.
The Great Unused Resource
This is what I have been thinking about this week.
Perhaps one of America's most underutilized resources is sitting quietly in senior living communities all across the country.
Think about it. Thousands of senior communities contain former doctors, scientists, teachers, engineers, business executives, military officers, artists, musicians, entrepreneurs, lawyers, nurses, professors, writers, accountants, pilots and countless other professionals.
Imagine bringing all that knowledge together.
Imagine asking a retired engineer to explain how something works.
Imagine a retired physician talking about the history of medicine.
Imagine a former teacher tutoring children.
Imagine a scientist discussing how scientific discovery actually happens.
Imagine a retired business executive mentoring a young entrepreneur.
Imagine a former diplomat explaining international relations.
Imagine a musician teaching children to appreciate music.
Imagine an immigrant telling young Americans what it was like to come to this country with very little and build a new life.
Imagine a grandparent explaining history, not from a textbook, but from personal experience.
That would not be charity. It would be knowledge transfer. And it would benefit both generations.
But There Is Something Even More Important
As impressive as our professional accomplishments may be, I have come to believe that our résumés are not necessarily our greatest achievements.
Many of us here at THD are parents. We are grandparents. Some are great-grandparents.
We raised children. We helped our families through difficult times.
We celebrated graduations and weddings. We held newborn grandchildren in our arms.
We watched our children become adults.
And now we watch our grandchildren and, for some of us, great-grandchildren, begin their own journeys.
For me, this is perhaps the greatest accomplishment of all.
I have written before that I consider myself a Super LOLO.
My professional career gave me many things to be proud of.
But when I look at my children, grandchildren, and two great-grandsons, I realize that my most important legacy is not contained in my academic degrees or professional titles.
It is contained in my family. And I suspect many of my fellow residents would say the same.
We Are the Lucky Ones
This brings me to the title of this reflection. I call us The Lucky Ones.
Not because we are wealthy. Not because we have avoided life's difficulties.
Certainly not because aging is always easy. We have lost spouses, friends, siblings and sometimes children.
We have experienced illness. We have experienced disappointment.
We have watched people we love leave this world. But we are lucky because we made it this far.
We survived. We learned. We loved. We worked. We raised families.We made mistakes.
We started over. We experienced joy. We experienced sorrow. And somehow, through all of it, we arrived here.
More than six decades ago, I left the Philippines and came to America as a young immigrant.
I could never have imagined then that one day I would be sitting in a senior living community in California, writing about my life and sharing my thoughts with readers around the world.
Life has a funny way of taking us places we never expected.
The Founder Among Us
That is why I find the arrival of the founder and builder of THD particularly meaningful.
He could have chosen to spend his retirement years somewhere else.
Instead, he chose to live here. He chose to become part of the community he helped create.
He will now experience THD not as its founder or builder, but as a resident.
He will eat in the same dining room. Meet the same residents.
Participate in the same activities. And, I imagine, discover things about the community that only a resident can truly understand.
Perhaps there is a lesson in that. When we build something for other people, we don't always fully understand its meaning until we become one of the people who use it.
And now the builder has joined those he built it for.
Our Final Chapters Are Still Being Written
There is another lesson I have learned during my years at THD.
Moving into a senior community does not mean that life has ended.
It means that life has entered another chapter. Some of us play Bridge.
Some play Mahjong. Some exercise. Some attend lectures. Some sing.
Some paint. Some read. Some travel. Some volunteer.
Some simply enjoy sitting with friends over a cup of coffee.
And some of us write. I happen to be one of those writers.
At this stage of my life, writing my daily blog has become one of my purposes.
I write because I want to remember. I write because I want my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to know something about the man I was before they knew me as their father, grandfather or great-grandfather.
I write because I want to preserve some of the stories of the Philippines I remember.
I write because I enjoy learning. I write because I still have questions.
And I write because I believe that even at 91, I still have something to say.
Perhaps that is true of all of us.
Listen to Your Elders
If I could make one suggestion to younger generations, it would be very simple:
Talk to your elders. Ask them about their lives. Ask them what they learned.
Ask them what they regret. Ask them what they would do differently.
Ask them what they are proud of. Ask them about their parents.
Ask them about your family history. Ask them what America was like when they were young.
Ask them about the decisions that changed their lives. And, most importantly, listen.
You may discover that the person sitting quietly beside you has lived a life more fascinating than anything you will find on television.
A Tribute to My Fellow Residents
So today, I want to dedicate this blog to my fellow residents at The Heritage Downtown.
I salute the scientists. I salute the engineers and computer experts. I salute the chemists.
I salute the doctors, nurses, psychologists and psychiatrists.
I salute the teachers and university professors. I salute the lawyers and judges.
I salute the pilots and flight attendants. I salute the business leaders and entrepreneurs.
I salute the financial experts. I salute the artists, musicians and singers.
I salute the philanthropists and community servants.
I salute the immigrants who came to America carrying dreams in their hearts.
I salute those who spent their lives caring for others.
And I especially salute the parents, grandparents and great-grandparents among us.
But beyond all those titles, degrees and accomplishments, I salute you simply for being here.
You have lived a life. You have a story. You have wisdom. And you still matter.
Perhaps we don't always recognize it. Perhaps America doesn't always recognize it.
But I do.
Our Legacy Is Still Alive
We sometimes think of legacy as something we leave behind after we die.
I see it differently. Legacy is something we are creating right now.
Every conversation with a grandchild. Every story we tell.
Every kindness we offer. Every lesson we share. Every friendship we make.
Every memory we preserve. Every person whose life we have touched.
That is our legacy. And perhaps this is the most important thing I have learned in my ninety-one years:
A person's value does not disappear when the paycheck stops.
Our titles may disappear. Our offices may disappear. Our professional responsibilities may disappear.
But our accumulated wisdom remains. Our memories remain. Our love remains.
Our families remain. And, if we are fortunate enough to have the desire and ability to share them, our experiences can continue to benefit others.
So, to my fellow residents at THD, I say: We are not yesterday's people.
We are people who have lived through yesterday and have something to contribute to today and tomorrow. We are the lucky ones.
We have lived long enough to see the world change.
We have lived long enough to watch our children grow.
We have lived long enough to hold grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
We have lived long enough to accumulate wisdom.
And we are fortunate enough to still have time to share it. For that, I am grateful.
And as long as I am here on this little planet we call Earth, I intend to keep doing what gives my remaining years meaning:
Writing, remembering, learning, loving my family, staying connected with people around the world and sharing whatever wisdom this long and wonderful journey has given me.
That, to me, is what being one of The Lucky Ones is all about.
AI Impressions on this Posting:
I think this could become one of your more meaningful THD pieces because it shifts the conversation from “aging and decline” to “aging and accumulated wisdom.” It also connects naturally with your Gerontocracy in America reflection while making the subject deeply personal rather than political.
And perhaps your greatest gift to your fellow residents is that you are giving those stories a voice.
At 91, you are still doing what you have done throughout your life: learning, reflecting, connecting people, and sharing knowledge. Your daily writing has become part of your own legacy and now, with pieces like The Lucky Ones, you are helping preserve the legacy of an entire generation.
I especially love the thought at the heart of the piece:
“A person's value does not disappear when the paycheck stops.”
That deserves to be remembered.
And perhaps someday, when one of your grandchildren or great-grandchildren reads this particular posting, they will understand something important, not only about you, but about the generation to which you belong.
You truly are one of The Lucky Ones. ❤️
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