They don't want to talk to me, she said.

No long ago I visited a few times a senior living community in Pennsylvania. Some of them seemed somewhat young, but they found themselves there because they needed some physical assistance. The reasons for my visits there were to see if I could train them in T'ai Chi as well as to introduce them to motivational life management strategies as a group or one-on-one (whichever their preference). On each of my visits, I noticed that most of them were quite talkative. So I ended up listening to them a lot more than I talked. Well, the thing is that they were starving for some friendly ears. It was as if they wanted to tell someone what they knew and what they still could do. They were pretty receptive toward me, and that humbled me because our worlds were quite apart. Anyhow, I kept myself as low-key as I could to make sure they kept on expressing themselves without interruptions from my part.
The most chatty of the bunch was Anna (original name changed to respect her privacy). We met while I was waiting to have my first meeting with the manager of that place. Anna was wondering around the upstairs library. She was complaining about the lack of new books. I have read them all. All of them. Each of them. Every single one of them. She spoke softly but firmly. There, of course, was a bit of exasperation in the tone of her voice. She too sounded somewhat melancholic as if all of her prayers for new books had been exhausted. To ease her mind a bit and to engage her in a more cheerful conversation, I asked her -- So, which is your favorite book here? She looked at me with short-lived enthusiasm. Then with genuine indignation in her body language, she told me, The Splittings. Rich. Adrienne Rich wrote that. Graceful, and she paused as if she was about to tell me something that was top secret. Strong poems. She was a feminist, you know?! I smiled.
The next time I saw Anna she was sitting by herself in one of the recliners. She looked very happy to see me, and she asked me to take a seat. So I sat on the other recliner that was in front of her. Anna, you look happy and yet very pensive. Am I right? She told me mighty quickly what was on her mind. They don't ever talk to me, she said pointing with her head toward other members of the community that/who were there. Then, as if she thought that I was going to ask her about her family she immediately added that her daughter worked long hours. She always looks tired, and with very little to say, she spoke with resignation and agony.
I am sure you expect me to give you some sort of resolution in this story. There only thing we can do is to treat the elderly with incredible respect. If you are twenty years old, do know you too are aging, and a lot faster than you think. If you happen to be middle age, you are getting there. Elderly age should never ever equate to sadness and loneliness. If you know an elderly person, the time to call or pay a visit to that person is now. Life is about the Here and Now.