A Poet’s Point of View

Here’s a newly written poem by Ted Kooser from out in the Nebraska plains who just turned 87. He spent much of his career in the insurance industry while publishing award-winning poetry including the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry in 2005. He served as Poet Laureate, Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004 to 2006.

To Find a Warm Wall

When you’ve grown old, and the need to rest
comes over you unexpectedly early, 
after only an hour’s work in your garden,

pouring into your legs and slowly rising,
filling you all the way up to your hat 
it can be good to find a sun-warmed wall
 
to sit back against, be it of stone or brick 
or weathered wood, the thicker the warmer, 
cupping your knees in your aching hands

like the handles of oars, but resisting 
the urge to get somewhere by rowing, 
permitting the current to float you away.

(c) 2026 Ted Kooser, all rights reserved, used with permission

Writing It Down

Getting clarity and a sense of control: Here’s a writing prompt for this month: what’s really, deep down, most important in your life right now?

Advice to the Long-lived

We all have questions. Here with contributors from various fields of study, we’ll be addressing some major interests and concerns, not with pat answers but serious consideration of what truly matters and why, to help you plot your own course along the way.

“Notes on aging”

First, I’d like to let readers know who I am and then I am happy to share in this note and in future ones, perspectives that I’ve gained from my professional and personal life on aging. Currently, I am a faculty member who regularly teaches “introduction to gerontology” to graduate students. In addition, I have served in various ways to mentor future researchers and clinicians in gerontology. My work has also directly involved partnering with older adults in numerous ways. In all of this work, I’ve seen the value of listening and trying to understand the variable pathways of aging, in this country and elsewhere.

For my dissertation work, I followed older adults through a process of moving and downsizing. While most people prefer to stay where they are or “age in place/age in their community”, sometimes through different circumstances, moving becomes a consideration. I decided to study voluntary moves in the Midwest US.

In this work and other research projects, I’ve talked to older adults and their relatives/kin network, as well as professionals. Along the way, I’ve also documented when a move was forced upon older persons as well.

From my work, I’ve seen three main areas that people consider when moving: 1) emotional 2) health-related and 3) financial. I’ve also spent much time helping people think about where to go, what type of housing makes sense, and where should I go?

For this first “note on aging” I’ll focus on the emotional side of things. There is the emotional work in thinking and then actually moving can vary.

In my experience, the older adults I talked with also felt their own kids didn’t understand, because even though it may be more safe or practical to move, the emotional attachment to a place is deeply felt. For some, their attachment to their apartments/homes/neighborhoods feels irreplaceable. Perhaps it is a view out of a window, perhaps it is the neighborhood where their kids walked to elementary school, and possibly, if lucky, a place that they were happy in years gone by.

Then, of course, our places are full of things. The assessment of what to do with one’s things is overwhelming for some. It is a material journey that traces one’s lifetime, and to be honest, in many cases, generations before. Will I regret letting things go? Will others value them if I pass them on? I’ve had conversations about baby cribs, lightbulb collections, book collections, among many other things. I’ve seen the need to honor their departed partners in the settling of things as well. When people worked hard to accumulate, it is hard to let go.

There are other questions that linger as well: who will I be if I leave my home? who will I be if I don’t have my things?

I think this is a good place to end for my first note, because I suspect readers will resonate with what I’ve written and it may spark some conversation. Next time, I’ll write about what I’ve seen about the challenges of staying in one’s home, both emotionally and logistically.

Thank you for your listening ears.

Best,

Tam Perry

Like The Phoenix

stories of adjustment to aging – real people/real stories

by Charlene V.

I moved here because I have health problems and I don’t have a lot of family left. My sister-in-law, who’s my patient advocate, and my brother, who’s my financial helper, are only an hour and 15 minutes from here in the woods, in a log home. So every time I need the least little thing, she had to come down. They look after me. When I had one of my knee replacements, she made me drive my car to make sure that I was okay. But she also knew I had the right side impaired because of my eye, which has macular edema (I’ve been getting injections since 2010). I think this is from a five-car pileup. When I was with my other sister-in-law (who’s since passed), we were going back from an art fair in the Rochester area. We were in the third car of a pileup. I hit the windshield and the impact broke my septum and left my whole face black and blue.

Then I lost my hearing in one ear. And I got an eye infection that left me with partial sight in one eye. So, it started to feel like I’d probably be better off where I could get a little more attention.

It was multiple things, losing a lot of my sight in one eye. I keep asking, but I’m told it’s okay to drive. You still qualify under Michigan laws! Which is scary, you know. I still have a car but I am better off driving with no passengers, so I’m not distracted. I tried taking a group to church on Sunday, but I gave that up.

I’d been living in a condo by myself, with my dog, in St. Clair Shores, not far from Detroit. I was teaching. But it was the total things: the loss of sight. hearing aids, and my balance, two knee replacements, plus a hip, it was a lot. And it was a lot for my sister-in-law to come back and forth to help with. And of course she has her own problems. But she was good about it. She kept saying, “Look for someplace. Look for someplace. Who will answer if you have an emergency and we can’t get there?” So, it was a matter of forcing me to look. I finally said, “I can’t find anything I’m happy with.” She said, what about moving up to somewhere around us? So I said, okay.

When I visited here, two people showed me their apartments. I said, “I really like these!” But my brother-in-law said I should look some more. So I did, but then turned around and went right back to sign up here. It was just right. I measured all my furniture and they talked to me about what I could take. I have a lot of antiques. The apartment I finally got, which I love, by the way, is at the top floor, the original attic, with slanted ceilings. Which I bump into regularly, by the way.

It was an excellent move. But the drama! I had all the stuff left over from my parents, that I had to get rid of, and my son had passed also in 2019. I hadn’t gone through things. It was too hard. So I shredded, shredded. And my church has a thrift shop I took a lot of things to. I had to get things done quickly or I would have lost the apartment.

When I moved in, it felt a little like a dorm. Another resident, Ralph, who used to be a teacher too, said it was like junior high, and I started laughing because that’s where I spent most of my teaching time. Even when I taught high school, it was like that—all kinds of characters. So many different personalities.

It wasn’t the things I had to get rid of when I moved in. It was the trauma. I think it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and I’ve had a lot of hard things. But I think it was because I knew it was going to be final. But I knew it was the right thing for me. So, it was okay.

You just know when it’s right. You know it in your heart. That’s always the way I’ve made decisions. You know, I list the pros and cons and think about it and worry about it, and pray about it. then all of a sudden, you know, I say to myself, “Hey, come on, stop it. You’re just wasting time.”

So, I moved in just as Covid happened. I soon had Covid myself. I started out here with ten days of complete isolation, not knowing anyone, no friends yet. The staff checked on me every day, but it was a new person each time. I’d ask questions and get different answers every time. Finally, my sister-in-law urged me to gather up all my questions, and they took them to the CEO. Then the head of Wellness came to talk with me, and things started changing for the better.

Once I got out of isolation, it was a growing process. I met different people and learned about all the activities I could get into. I was doing well. When I was offered a chance to get a bigger apartment, I said I like where I am.

There’s a lady at church who’s 95. She has a big home here in Traverse City. She’s been here pretty much all her life. I go over on the fourth Saturday of every month for a Chat and Stitch. I do it because I want to know the people at church, too. She’s talking about trying to get rid of all her antiques and she doesn’t have an awful lot of people she can depend on. And so I listen to her, and I suggest things. She says, “Oh I tried that or this or that, or I don’t want to do that right now.” She’s pulled her registration out of several places. I keep telling her to come here. This is a great place. But I know it’s just hard to make that decision.

Thanks to Charlene V. for sharing this. She’ll be receiving her very own EOTL tee shirt for doing so. You can show you’re “in it” too. Just send your story our way (see Contact Us, “Ways we can make a difference together” on the EOTL website). If your story is selected for an upcoming issue of the EOTL Newsletter, the tee will be your just deserts. Note: Stories may be edited for length and clarity.

Going On, a thought from Fleda

[excerpts from the book and other musings]

So, I have a book that seems to be sending out offspring in several directions. What I’m hoping is that it will, along with some correlative materials, help bring clarity for others to the adjustment to aging and what that means practically, psychologically, and existentially. With my book as foundation, I would like to offer a venue to talk through some of the questions and anxieties that often accompany moving on for seniors: a website for this purpose, a newsletter, and eventually a podcast. I’m hoping to offer a different kind of conversation, both personal and also supported by physicians, gerontologists, and poets.

Come over to The End-of-the-Line Club Website to find out all that’s going on!