Lessons of history
For seniors, isolation changes life in varied, nuanced ways
One remembers the polio epidemic and the hardships of World War II. One is stoic about it all — because, he says, he’s already
“here past the welcome.” A third, old enough to remember the aftermath of the 1918 flu epidemic, turns to faith in tough times.
For older Americans, some of the people most likely to be affected badly by the coronavirus pandemic, these unusual days and the social distancing that they bring are rippling out in varied and nuanced ways.
“This kind of thing is not new for us older people,” said Mimi Allison, the former director of the National Museum of Dance, who turned 90 on Friday. She lives with one of her daughters and a teenage grandson in Asheville, North Carolina, and says the main inconvenience of social distancing is not celebrating her birthday with family, including two greatgrandchildren.
“I think we’re not as stressed as some of the younger people,” Allison said. “We know that we’re all going to come out of it. Well, some of us won’t, but most of us will, and we’re all going to be better off for it.”
Allison says she’s reminded of rationing in World War II and the polio epidemic that sickened her brother in the 1940s, when swimming pools and movie theatres were closed and families kept children close to avoid that virus. So far, she says, it’s not all that different from growing up in Buffalo, New York, when blizzards often brought life to a halt.
Kathryn Betts Adams, a gerontology consultant and former associate professor of social work at Case Western Reserve University in Ohio, worries about others in situations like that confronting her own 91-year-old father, whose independent-living centre in Connecticut has banned all visitors due to the pandemic.
Socializing in the dining room is out; he eats meals in his apartment on paper plates that had stacked up until Adams explained over the phone how to remove and replace trash bags.
The key is to maintain some kind of connection, says the Rev. Michael Pfleger, 70, a charismatic Chicago priest who normally feeds off the energy of parishioners but now faces empty pews. His parish in a struggling South Side neighbourhood includes many adults his age and older who are more vulnerable to serious COVID-19 complications and are sequestered in their homes.
Many “already feel like nobody cares about them, and then add this to it. I just think we’ve got to be very careful about people not being traumatized,” Pfleger said. He has turned to live-streaming Mass on Sundays during Lent; the prospect of a vacant church on Easter is almost unimaginable. Instead of handshakes and embraces, he’s urging phone calls, especially for seniors without internet access or smartphones.
“It’s so important to stay connected right now,” Pfleger said.