Our Work Archives | Page 2 of 6 | Immanuel Foundation

On the Fourth of July, we celebrate the United States’ declaration of independence from Great Britain. Independence is a trait we as Americans continue to value in ourselves, both as individuals and as a nation.

In fact, the possibility of losing independence is one the main reasons why many Americans fear aging. And as we get older, we’re more likely to be confronted with the possibility that we won’t always be independent. A 2017 study presented at the Innovations in Aging conference found that a fear of dependency—that is, a fear of being unable to take care of one’s self—was a strong predictor of depression in American older adults. Even when other factors like the subjects’ health, age, and disability were taken into account, older adults who were afraid of being dependent on others were more likely to be depressed than those who didn’t share this fear.

This is particularly worrying because, whether we like it or not, aging often means we lose some measure of independence. In fact, some seniors move into communities like Immanuel because they know they can no longer live on their own, whether because of health problems or difficulty with the daily tasks of home maintenance. Immanuel offers a whole spectrum of services, from Assisted Living to Skilled Nursing, for seniors needing various levels of help with activities of daily living. While it’s part of Immanuel’s philosophy to respect residents’ choices, it’s hard to deny that some residents are here precisely because they can’t live independently.

So how do we help seniors avoid the depression that seems to come with dependency in aging? First, we can remember that aging is something that happens to all of us (if we’re lucky). It’s not shameful. The physical changes that inevitably accompany aging are part of the package. They’re often unpleasant, but they’re not shameful, either. Aging just is, and all of us, at all ages, should work on remembering and respecting that. It won’t stop dependency, but it can go a long way toward mitigating depression.

Second, we can look for tradeoffs and ways that accepting help in some areas can help seniors maintain some forms of independence. For example, a senior who has some mobility problems can go more places for longer if she uses a walker than if she resists it. Or, seniors who move in to communities like Buffalo Hill Terrace often find that they go out more because they have someone else to drive them and friends to accompany them. They’re not getting out independently, but they’re not remaining isolated, either. By depending on others (or on devices) for some things, seniors can often continue to do the things that matter most to them.

As we celebrate American independence, let’s make sure we remember the many forms it can take. And let’s also remember that none of us lives completely independently. It seems almost cliché to invoke English poet John Donne’s “Meditation 17” here, but I’m going to do it anyway. When Donne wrote his famous lines “No man is an island,/entire of itself;/every man is a piece of the continent,/a part of the main” in the winter of 1623, he was seriously ill. The poem reflects on the interconnectedness of communities and the loss a community feels when one member passes away. This interconnectedness means that it’s okay for us to need each other, as Donne surely needed his friends and neighbors when he was sick. All of us will need more help as we age, and that’s okay. We can depend on others without losing ourselves.

The long-running British television series Midsomer Murders probably isn’t the first place you’d look if you wanted commentary on aging in the twenty-first century. After all, it’s a murder mystery show on which people of all ages die, the lead is not in any consistent way involved in elder care, and all of the regular characters are working-age adults. However, the show portrays seniors as integral parts of the communities in Midsomer County (the extremely murderous fictional area in which the show is set) and often uses side plots to address issues in aging.

In general, the show does a good job of integrating aging issues into its plots, and seniors are never just jokes. The two aging-related subjects that arise most frequently on Midsomer Murders are the vulnerability of older adults to fraud and the financial challenges that arise because seniors on fixed incomes can’t continue to live the lives to which they have become accustomed. These two sides of the aging coin—seniors as victims and seniors as active agents looking for ways to meet their own needs—combine to show an interesting portrait of aging in the twenty-first century.

The two plots converge in interesting ways in the two episodes of Midsomer Murders that deal most directly with seniors. The Season 3 episode “Blue Herrings” is set in an Assisted Living community of sorts (the show calls it a nursing home, but it bears a lot closer resemblance to Assisted Living in American terms). In this episode, the main character, Inspector Barnaby, is visiting his aunt Alice, who’s there to recover after surgery. He notices that there are a lot of strange goings-on at Lawnside, and one of the residents tells him she suspects that two staff members are conspiring to steal residents’ property by manipulating them into changing their wills and then murdering them. Stolen jewelry and other irregularities compound both the residents’ and Barnaby’s suspicions, and everything comes to a head after a couple of suspicious deaths.

While all is not quite well at Lawnside, it turns out that residents are not being exploited by staff. The one actual murderer was a resident’s family member, and the situation is just sad. And the thief was another resident. Tired of being pretty much confined to Lawnside but unable to afford regular meals out or taxis to the pub, he steals his fellow residents’ valuables and sells them as if they were his own. While this is shown to be a bit silly and could easily have been played as a joke, the show clearly portrays the situation as having been brought about by the character’s circumstances. He worked as a chauffeur, didn’t have significant savings, and has bills, so even small luxuries are struggles. That he obtains them through theft certainly isn’t condoned, but the show treats him with understanding.

In Season 6’s “A Talent for Life,” one of the two central murder victims is an older adult. Isobel Hewitt loves driving fast cars, and she was accustomed to living a luxurious lifestyle. As she aged, however, she ran out of funds and had to rely on family. When she and a friend are murdered while fly fishing, Barnaby first suspects that another friend killed her to get his hands on her assets. After he learns that she is no longer wealthy, he no longer worries about theft, but he does suspect her hypercritical relatives, who constantly complained that Isobel wouldn’t reduce her expenses.

In “A Talent for Life,” the murder has less to do with Isobel’s age than with how she treated people. She was fun, but she wasn’t always kind, and that ultimately came back to haunt her. But her money problems are real problems, and they are caused in part by her age. In general, Midsomer Murders suggests that it’s unrealistic and unfair to expect seniors to live in poverty just because they are no longer able to work. At the same time, it shows how older adults are particularly vulnerable to fraud and theft that have the potential to leave them even more impoverished. At the same time, it lets older adults be human. Like everybody on Midsomer Murders, seniors frequently have agendas, and they’re as flawed as younger characters. Seniors can be victims, the show suggests, and they’re uniquely vulnerable in some ways, but they don’t stop being who they are just because they’ve aged. This commentary is subtle and occasional, but the show definitely has a clear point of view on aging.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve gotten an up-close, personal look at family caregiving. My grandfather, who is a resident here at Buffalo Hill Terrace, has been having some health problems. Fortunately, he’s doing better, but it’s meant a lot of running around for my mother (his daughter). And this week, my grandmother (my father’s mother) is in town. She’s been having a problem that my dad has the skills to fix, so she decided to pay him a visit. Since my dad and I both work full time, my mom is the one doing a lot of the preparation and day-to-day caregiving for my grandmother, as well.

It’s meant that things are extra busy, especially for my mom, and a lot of planning has gone in to making sure that everyone gets where they need to be. I help when I can, and I’m lucky to work in an environment that understands and values family commitments, but there are limits to what I’m able to do. The same goes for my father, a professional in independent practice.

What this has shown me is that while caregiving for a senior is certainly a collaborative enterprise, much of the work out of necessity often falls on one member of a family. It’s usually the person whose schedule has the most built-in flexibility. My mom works part-time and has many interests and responsibilities beyond caregiving, but the caregiving falls mostly to her because her other responsibilities can more easily be scheduled around it.

This may be practical, but it’s definitely not fair. I know my mom is happy to take care of her dad and, when the need arises, of her mother-in-law. She does it because she loves them and because they need care. And my dad is involved with both his own mother’s needs (of course) and with my grandfather’s. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy or that she doesn’t need or want more support. Here are some thing I try to keep in mind when thinking about how to be a supportive family member to someone caring for a senior:

Careful planning is important. The primary caregiver knows this, but we can all make sure we’re part of the plan. If you can say, for example, “I am available on Tuesdays and Thursdays after four and usually on the weekends,” you let the person doing the planning know that you’re willing to help and when it’s practical to pass a task on to you.
This planning is all very well, but no amount of planning can prevent a crisis. Crises are often the moments in which caregivers need the most help, and if we can be flexible, they’re also the times when those of us around them can be the most helpful. If we can respond by doing what’s needed in a crisis, we can take quite a bit of stress off of a caregiver’s plate.
Remember to enjoy being with the senior who’s your loved one and that often, caregivers, too, find joy in the work. Caregiving is stressful, but caregivers very often do it out of love. If we can approach it joyfully, remembering that our time with our aging loved ones is always limited, we can help reduce stress for both ourselves and for the main caregivers we support.

If you spend enough time at Buffalo Hill Terrace, chances are you’ll encounter a long, brown, mixed-breed dog walking through the halls with one of his people. He’s a very friendly dog, so he’ll probably come up to you to say hi. At least, that’s how many visitors and residents first encounter David and Martha Maurer and their dog, Toby.

Toby has actually been in Martha’s life for longer than David has. At the time of our conversation, she’d had the dog for about ten years, and now, that’s closer to eleven. She and David have been married for eight years—both had previous spouses and were widowed. Toby had a previous person in his life, too. Martha’s neighbor in Texarkana, Arkansas had adopted him through a rescue program. But Toby kept digging under the fence into Martha’s yard. Eventually, Martha and her neighbor agreed that Toby should come to live with her on a permanent basis. They’ve been together ever since.

After Martha’s first husband died, Toby used to snuggle with her, and he was very comforting. Soon, though, Toby had two people. Martha and David are both originally from California. In fact, they went to the same high school and dated briefly. Fifty-seven years after their original meeting, they reconnected online, and they eventually married. Toby quickly adjusted to having David in his and Martha’s lives, and he’s certainly happy to be with either or both of them.

The small family relocated to Montana upon Martha and David’s marriage. Some years before, David had moved to Somers because he was tired of California. He heard Montana was a nice place, and when he came to visit, he agreed. When he reconnected with Martha, Montana was where they chose to make their home.

The couple and their dog moved into Buffalo Hill Terrace in the summer of 2017, and it’s been their home ever since. Every time Martha or David takes Toby out for a walk, he stops to greet almost everyone he sees. They also make regular visits to residents at the Immanuel Skilled Care Center, where Toby brightens the days of residents and staff.

Both David and Martha have long valued community service. David volunteered with a number of organizations when he lived in California, and Martha still volunteers with a charity that reunites adoptees and their birth parents. Both David and Martha like to feel like they make the world around them better.

As for Toby, when he’s not out and about visiting current friends and making new ones, he’s an active dog who likes to run around. He also enjoys spending quiet time with his people. In spite of his playful nature, Toby doesn’t much enjoy playing with dog toys, and he doesn’t like to travel. He’s a social homebody, making him the perfect companion for two community-minded seniors like Martha and David!

As May draws to a close, I’d like to note that it was Older Americans Month. This celebratory month was established by President Kennedy in 1963 to recognize the unique contributions made to our communities by adults over 65. It was also intended to draw attention to the challenges older adults face navigating our increasingly fragmented society.

This year’s theme—“Connect, Create, Contribute”—seems particularly suited to our residents here at Immanuel. In fact, their lives are in many ways structured around these three themes. Living in community means living a connected life. Residents spend a great deal of time with each other. They eat together, play games together, and sit by the fire in the lobby to chat or just to read the newspaper in the company of another person. They are deeply connected to each other, and these connections enhance their lives.

And residents create in various ways every day. Sometimes, they create projects in structured activities (like crafts) led by the recreation department. Many of them continue creative pursuits they began long before they ever moved in to Immanuel. Even those who are no longer able to actively pursue their previous hobbies continue to appreciate and celebrate creative work by sharing it with their neighbors. Others develop new ways to be creative as they take a beginning art class, participate in sing-a-longs, or volunteer to help reorganize the Buffalo Hill Terrace library. One resident recently put together his first 3D jigsaw puzzle (a model of Notre Dame). He had never done puzzles before moving into the Villas, but it’s such a popular pastime here that he embraced it wholeheartedly and found new pleasure in the activity.

The third facet of this year’s theme, contribute, is something we in the Foundation have seen residents do first-hand. We could not have made our recent Estate Sale fundraising event happen without the assistance of numerous resident volunteers. And our Foundation resident advisory committee helps out on a regular basis with everything from hands-on special projects to long-range planning. Residents also contribute to Immanuel and to the wider community in a variety of ways. One plays the piano for fellow residents at the Skilled Care Center on a regular basis. Another reads to visiting children. Still others organize the Terrace library, serve on various departmental committees, and volunteer at the local hospital.

Because they live in a retirement community, Immanuel residents have ample, structured opportunities to connect, create, and contribute. But most of us have older adults in our lives who don’t live in communities like this one, and it’s important that we remember that they, too, need to connect, create, and contribute in order to thrive. Even though May is essentially over, let’s make sure to recognize and celebrate them, too!

It’s not very common to see a retirement community featured in a movie or television show, so whenever I see one, I think, “I have to write about that for the blog!” So imagine my delight at watching the 2012 film Quartet. The film is set in Beecham House, an independent and assisted living community for retired musicians in England. As the residents rehearse for their annual benefit concert (like Immanuel, they fundraise to help cover their expenses), a new resident arrives. Since this is a community for people with a history of performing on stage, much drama ensues, as you can probably imagine.

It turns out that the new arrival is opera singer Jean Horton, played by Maggie Smith. Jean used to perform regularly with three other residents: Reginald Paget (Tom Courtenay), Cecily Robson (Pauline Collins), and Wilfred Bond (Billy Connolly). She also used to be married to Reginald, though only very briefly. Most of the plot consists of Reg, Cissy, and Wilf trying to convince Jean to perform with them in the quartet from Rigoletto, which she eventually agrees to do, to great acclaim. There’s not a lot more to be said about the plot. Old wounds are opened and partially healed, and there’s quite a bit of discussion about what it means to get older when one is a performer.

What interested me most about the film was Beecham House as a setting, especially as compared to an American retirement community like Immanuel. Here are some things I noticed.

Ways in which Beecham House is different from Immanuel:

Their singalongs are better. Like, a lot better. I love our residents, and I love the joy they get from music, but I’m afraid we just can’t compete with a bunch of retired musicians.
The residents at Beecham House are way more dramatic than Immanuel residents. The gossip and backstabbing in that place makes Immanuel look just plain dull! This is a good thing for us.
Beecham House the building appears to be a converted estate house, while Immanuel is purpose-built. While fancy molding and turret windows are very nice, so are elevators. Beecham House residents need a chair lift that runs the length of the staircase if they can’t or don’t want to climb.
Everyone at Beecham House knows each other before they move in. Seriously. The musical world in Britain is apparently very small. Smaller than the Flathead Valley small. That means the gossip that accompanies Jean’s arrival comes from people who know her. While some Immanuel residents of course knew each other before they moved in, there’s a lot of room for most of them to become who they want to be in this phase of their lives without past baggage.

Ways in which Beecham House is similar to Immanuel:

New residents are of great interest to the community. While our residents don’t necessarily have history with their new neighbors, a lot of people are always very excited to see who is moving in, what their interests are, and how they’ll fit in.
There are no assigned seats in the dining room… but that doesn’t mean residents don’t become somewhat territorial about “their spots.” When one resident of Beecham House comes down to breakfast and finds someone else in his chair, he gets quite irritated. It’s possible I’ve seen this happen here.
Like residents at Immanuel, residents at Beecham House continue to pursue their passions. Of course, the Beecham House residents are all passionate about music and Immanuel residents have much more diverse passions, but the film’s portrayal of aging as a vibrant period in residents’ lives was familiar to me from people I know.
Residents look out for each other. When Ollie the clarinet player has heart troubles, other residents alert staff, make sure he’s taken care of, and worry over him after he’s taken to the hospital. Later, when Cissy falls and winds up in the community’s infirmary, Jean, Wilf, and Reg all visit her and take great care to make sure she’s all right and not lonely. Immanuel residents also always keep an eye on each other and often visit each other in the hospital or post-surgery rehab center. This is one of the fabulous things about living in community.

Okay, so it’s probably not fair to compare a British community for retired musicians to a Montana community for people from all walks of life. But it’s always instructive to look at how places like this are portrayed in the media. Overall, I think Beecham House makes communities look pretty good. The film offers a nuanced picture of aging, and it certainly doesn’t portray it as inherently negative.

I want to note one more thing here: Underlying the plot of Quartet is the notion that if the Annual Gala is not a success, Beecham House will close. The performance is a fundraiser, and all the residents take part not only to show off their still-strong skills but also to help their community. Though our situation is fortunately much less critical, our residents, too, take pride in helping their community. Some of them give of their financial resources over and above the fees they pay to live here. Others contribute time—we are very grateful to the volunteers who help with all sorts of Foundation projects. Most of all, they give of themselves and their myriad talents, making sure that Immanuel will remain strong.

As spring swings into full gear in the Flathead Valley, Terrace resident Lorraine Ondov can often be found riding her adult-size tricycle around the neighborhood. Lorraine has been interested in bike riding since she was a young teen. She would borrow a friend’s bike and ride around her childhood neighborhood, and she enjoyed it so much that she asked for a bike of her one. She was promised one for her fourteenth birthday, but in the end her parents couldn’t afford it.

Lorraine grew up, married, and started a family of her own. While she’s always been focused on health and exercise, she didn’t get a bicycle until she turned fifty. That year, her family decided it was time, and they bought her the bicycle for her birthday. She enjoyed it so much that she kept it—and rode it regularly—for the next 41 years.

These days, Lorraine rides an adult-sized tricycle. She got it for herself as a treat because she missed her bicycle, and her kids thought the trike would be safer. It has added stability, and she still gets all the benefits of riding her bike. And what are those benefits? First of all, Lorraine gets regular exercise in an outdoor environment. The health benefits have been obvious; Lorraine was able to go off her diabetes medication because of her diet and exercise routine, of which riding her bike is a major part. She especially enjoys getting her exercise outside. “You can stop and look at the scenery or the birds,” she said as she explained why she enjoys bike-riding in particular. There are also psychological benefits in having the freedom to go farther afield than she probably could on foot. “It’s very good mentally, too, to be able to spread your wings,” Lorraine explained during her Passions Project interview.

Lorraine has found that community living helps her spread her wings. For one thing, Buffalo Hill Terrace is located in a safe neighborhood with minimal traffic and roads that form a convenient loop that takes Lorraine about 30-40 minutes to ride. The community also helps her keep in shape during the long Montana winters. In addition to a stationary bike in the fitness center, the recreation department has bike pedals so residents can “ride” through various locations while watching videos during regular “cycling adventures” sessions. Lorraine exercises in other ways, as well. Through connections she made at Buffalo Hill Terrace, she was able to participate in a 5K walk/run last summer—and she was the oldest one there!

Lorraine bikes, walks, and goes to exercise class because staying fit is important to her and because she enjoys these activities. “I’m going to keep doing it as long as I can,” Lorraine says. “You’ve got to enjoy what you have now, because one day you know you won’t be able to.”

Lorraine signed up for the Passions Project because she loves to bike, and it turns out that her photo session made just a little difference in how she does it. During her interview before the photo shoot, Heidi Wagner, the photographer, asked her if her trike had a name. At the time, it didn’t. A few weeks later, though, she called me. “I’ve thought of a name,” she said. “My bike is now named Trixie.”

Lorraine met Trixie the trike rather late in her life, and Trixie is only her second cycle. But her passion for cycling began before she even had a bike of her own, something she recalled during her photo session. As she reflected on her history with the activity, she said, “When I think of the gal who was 14 years old and then finally got her dream—and to follow it all the way through, that’s pretty special.” It is indeed special, and we look forward to seeing Lorraine and Trixie for a long time to come.

On Sunday, March 29, the newest (eighth) season of BBC’s Call the Midwife began airing on PBS. I was very excited because, dear readers, this is my favorite show currently on television. One of the many reasons I like it so much is that it tackles truly intergenerational themes. The main characters live in an intergenerational community, and this isn’t always easy, but everybody learns from each other. Regular characters include both lay midwives at the beginning of their careers and nuns nearing the ends of theirs. And since these characters are nurses and midwives, every episode features births, and many feature deaths as well.

If you haven’t seen Call the Midwife, it follows the adventures of a group of midwives, some of them Anglican nuns, based at a convent called Nonnatus House in London’s impoverished East End. The first seasons are set in the late 1950s, but by this point, we’re in 1963. It took me awhile to start watching, as I was afraid it would be a downer of a show. After all, poverty and childbirth don’t exactly make for an uplifting mix. Except when they do. Once I started watching, I fell in love, because the midwives of Nonnatus House spend their time making unbearable conditions bearable. The show isn’t afraid to tackle hard things, and it manages to avoid being sugary, but I almost always finish an episode feeling good.

One of the hard subjects the show tackles is aging, and it’s the only show I’m aware of that has a regular character with dementia. Sister Monica Joan is not a “story of the week.” She appears in almost every episode and plays key roles in quite a few, including the season premier that aired on Sunday. One theme that repeatedly recurs around Sister Monica Joan is that as she ages, she feels more and more useless. She is no longer a practicing midwife, and her dementia makes it hard for her to contribute even in more minor ways. At the beginning of the series, she’s able to knit and crochet, but as she declines even those tasks become harder. Even when she could still do these things with ease, Sister Monica Joan would often exclaim that she was not useful. She knew she was being given busywork, and she hated it.

This issue was on full display in the Season 8 premier. At the beginning of the episode, the Midwives get new work bags to replace the bags they’ve used for decades. The old bags are shabby and in need of replacement, and National Health (the British agency that regulates midwifery and other medical services) regulations have changed. Fred, the midwives’ handyman, takes the old bags out back to burn them. When Sister Monica Joan sees this, she is very upset, especially since one of the bags he is burning had once belonged to her. When Fred is called away, she takes it and hides it.

When Sister Monica Joan falls ill, boundaries between past and present blur even more—as they so often do for those with dementia. She takes her bag and goes off in search of a mother and baby she believes require her services. The other nuns and lay midwives are frantic, of course, and they search high and low for her before finding her, shivering and terrified, in an abandoned building. It’s clear that Sister Monica Joan ran away because she believed she was needed elsewhere and because her identity was so tied up in her work that when her cognitive abilities were at their weakest, she went to do her job.

Sister Monica Joan is a beloved character for many reasons, not least of which is her ongoing dedication to the profession she once pursued. She loves helping women give birth, and she sees that, in addition to her religious vows, as her calling. Call the Midwife reminds us that people with dementia do not lose their core selves, even when they lose their professional skills.

Those who have loved ones with dementia or work with seniors will certainly notice that Sister Monica Joan’s dementia is not entirely realistic. To be sure, she improves and worsens as the plot requires. I’m sure many viewers wish their loved ones with dementia would bounce back as well as Sister Monica Joan often seems to do. That’s part of the problem with television, of course—while the marvelous Judy Parfitt would surely be up to portraying the decline, it would eventually become very painful to watch. Charlotte, my coworker in the Foundation office, has already mentioned that she starts every season with the fear this will be the year we lose Sister Monica Joan. If we were seeing a more typical progression of dementia,* we’d probably be a lot sadder.

If you want to join me in watching this wonderful show, all the previous seasons are available on Netflix. If you decide to take the plunge, you’ll probably find yourself binge watching, so I recommend stocking up on the following:

Popcorn (a binge-watching staple)
Hot chocolate (the midwives drink a lot of it, so it’ll start to sound pretty good after a few episodes)
Tissues (just trust me—buy them at Costco)

Season 8 episode will be up to stream on the PBS website as they air, and they stay around for a week or two before they go behind a paywall.

*I feel sure my colleagues who are experts in dementia support would want me to mention that every case of dementia is different and there is no typical case. However, most types of dementia are progressive.

Pretty much everyone has a model in their head for what aging looks like. Almost anyone who works—no matter how young—has probably had at least fleeting thoughts like, “When I retire, I’m going to spend all my time traveling” or, “When I retire, I’ll have all the time in the world to knit/read/build things/run marathons.” Especially as grandkids arrive on the scene, others imagine themselves prioritizing family in ways they haven’t previously been able. In our imaginations, retirement is a time of leisure and a different kind of engagement with the world.

However, the positive conceptions of retirement I outlined above contrast sharply with many public portrayals of aging. The word “aging” tends to be associated with negative things like dependence, decline, and disease. And it’s something we’re told every day we should avoid, as if that were possible. How many ads for “anti-aging” products do we see every day? I’ve never counted, but I bet it’s a lot. Even generally positive actions we’re encouraged to take—like saving for retirement—tend to pose a pretty alarming model of aging (if you don’t save the right way, those commercials tell us, you are headed for disaster, or at least misery).

It turns out that this difference in our ideal picture of aging and what we believe to be the reality is very common. It’s so common that The FrameWorks Institute’s 2015 report on “Mapping the Gaps between Expert and Public Understandings of Aging in America” names it as the number one issue in public perceptions of aging. According to the report, for many Americans, aging is “a positive ideal that is always thwarted by the reality of the issue.” So, most of us have it in our minds that aging could be great, but we don’t think that it is great.

At Immanuel, we do our best to reinforce the ways in which aging is great. This is probably easiest to see in our independent living areas, where you’ll find residents who go for bike rides, tend plants, paint pictures, attend lectures, and travel regularly to new locales as well as their favorite vacation spots. In skilled care, residents generally have less capacity to leave the building on their own, but that doesn’t stop them from enjoying painting, crafts, reading groups, time in the courtyard, or outings with family or on Immanuel’s bus.

“Nursing home aging” is probably, in many imaginations, the polar opposite of “active aging,” so it’s harder in that case to fight the perception that aging is inherently negative. It’s simply true that most of us will experience some physical decline as we age, and if we decline enough, we will need nursing care. But that physical decline doesn’t mean we need to stop being who we are, and it doesn’t mean that we should try to push aging from our minds until it inevitably stops us in our tracks. Immanuel emphasizes that aging doesn’t have to stop us—we want aging to be positive, regardless of what level of care a person requires.

As I read the FrameWorks report, I thought a lot about the Passions Project photos that hang in the hallway of Buffalo Hill Terrace. The photos feature residents from across campus who live active, positive lives. They’re wonderful examples of the ways in which our ideals of aging can, in fact, become real. Whether they’re riding a bike or painting a watercolor, the Passions Project participants are spending their time joyfully, and that’s something we all strive to do, no matter how old we are. If you’d like to think more about how the ideal and real pictures of aging intersect, I encourage you to look at these beautiful photos!