At some point, we all come to the realization that our time on earth is finite. That’s just how life is. For many of us, this realization is a wake-up call—a reminder to start living more fully and to experience things that we’ve only ever dreamed of doing. 

A few years ago, before moving to the West Coast to begin what I knew would be the final chapters of my life, I noticed that all the possessions I’d accumulated in my life had become a burden and were keeping me from moving forward.  

 Although I’ve never considered myself materialistic, I was surprised by how much I owned. My belongings ranged from keepsakes collected during travels and vacations to family heirlooms, jewelry, and gifts from loved ones. Much of it held sentimental value—artwork created by friends, treasures salvaged from dumpsters, or tokens from memorable adventures. Each item told a story, reminding me of people who had died, relationships that had ended, and journeys I had undertaken. 

Having these possessions constantly reminding me of my past weighed me down. I felt burdened by my own narrative. My life story had become an encumbrance. It was like being caught in a web of memories. I was entangled in the past and couldn’t move forward. So, I decided to give away all my valuables and as many of my worldly goods as possible, leaving only those things that were necessary for day-to-day life and my work. I no longer wanted to be attached to anything that held me back or needed safeguarding. I didn’t want to have to be concerned about what would happen to my precious things if I were to die unexpectedly.  

Thus, I began to live as if to die. I spent the next year and half sorting through my possessions and thinking of the people whom I would want to have them. But instead of waiting to die, I shipped them to those people or gave them away in person. I was told I was crazy to give away my valuables when I could sell them and use the proceeds to pay my bills or go on vacation. Of course, that made sense, but that’s not what I wanted to do. It was important to me that I give them away.  

This process took time. When I told my therapist that I was “living as if to die,” he became concerned that I might be planning to end my life. More than a few friends and family members to whom I gave things also expressed this worry. For most people, having property and things of value is a sign of success, or, at the very least, evidence of having lived well. For me to no longer want my things was a cause for alarm.  

Giving away my valuables freed me from my past.  

Without the weight of possessions laden with memories and emotions, I felt unexpectedly lighter. Freed from their pull, I found myself more grounded in the present, no longer distracted by the past. This newfound presence compelled me to confront reality head-on—an experience that was often challenging or even painful, but ultimately transformative. 

My life story was no longer my yesterday, but rather, my today.  

These days, I no longer hold onto the past, grasping at either the sadness or the joy as an excuse for not living in the now. By letting go of my narrative and the objects that represented it, I created space for something deeper. In the absence of distractions, I’m more attuned to the unseen sources that sustain life and animate all of creation. The less I have, the easier it is for me to sense the greater reality and the clearer my sense of purpose becomes. 

This journey wasn’t instantaneous or easy. It took time and is still ongoing. But now, I live each day with a renewed sense of clarity and presence.  

When the end of my life does come, I hope to leave this world with nothing—unburdened, unattached, and fully aware of where I’m going.  

Stephen Sinclair holds a Master of Divinity from Meadville Lombard Theological School in Chicago and is an ordained Unitarian Universalist minister. He’s been a pastor and chaplain in numbers of churches and hospitals in the U.S. and has worked with the homeless. He lives on Capitol Hill in Seattle.   

Downsizing tips for simplifying your move – and your life

Lessons on Downsizing—Lighten Up While You Still Can

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It’s a complicated change for an institution that began post-WWII as an answer to the urban isolation of older adults. Today, about 11,000 senior centers operate in the U.S., most of them city- or county-funded and staffed. They now serve four generations of elderhood. It was the first cohort, the Greatest Generation born between 1901 and 1924, that established the model for the earliest centers. Having lived through two wars and the Great Depression without television and computers, they want regular opportunities to socialize over cards and crafts, and are often in need of the medical services and communal meals offered by their local center. Their successor, the Silent Generation (1925-45), prefers a variety of activity choices while the largest generation, Boomers (1946-64) are more interested in high-quality educational programs and short-term commitments. On deck is Generation X (1965-80), known for their skepticism of institutions and their demand for work-life balance. They start turning 60 in 2025. And it’s not just generational differences—the 50+ population is more racially, ethnically, and economically diverse than ever. We live longer and healthier lives. We have more free time. Finding the sweet spot that serves the oldest clients while enticing younger newcomers is an institutional challenge.

Eighty-five-year-old California philanthropist Wallis Annenberg believes it’s possible to overcome demographic differences and transform existing centers. With the right community space, 50+ adults can also become proactive change agents in how aging is portrayed. In 2022, Annenberg’s foundation funded and opened GenSpace in Los Angeles’ diverse Koreatown neighborhood. Located on the multigenerational campus of a Jewish synagogue in a modern, light-filled building spanning 7,000 square feet, GenSpace was designed to facilitate connection, lifelong learning, and a rebranded image. It’s not a senior center, emphasizes its founder—it’s a cultural space for older adults.

Activities include classes on meditation, Latin dancing, and belly dancing in a fitness studio. There’s a dedicated horticultural lab, an art studio, and a state-of-the-art tech bar with tablets, smartphones, and laptops. Members can also join the GenSpace Voices Choir or take a comedy writing and performance class.

What sets the place apart is its unabashed advocacy for more positive narratives of older adults by hosting conversations and special events to address the issue. In 2021, GenSpace convened a series called Aging Out Loud, launching it with a session called “Digital Bridges: Why the Future of Tech Depends on Older Adults.” Thirteen leaders in technology and aging discussed tech access gaps, the lack of age-friendly designs, and innovations to meet the needs of older adults. In 2022, it hosted a group of social impact leaders for a conversation about more inclusive media and workforce representation. Last year it previewed a free movie and invited the actors Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, Sally Field, and Billy Porter to discuss ageism in the movie industry with GenSpace members and their guests—more than 200 Hollywood writers and storytellers.

Annenberg is hopeful GenSpace will serve as a model for centers elsewhere. The National Council on Aging agrees such changes are needed. In May 2023, they released a report, Modernizing Senior Centers Resource Center that encourages centers to upgrade facilities and programming, integrate technology and virtual programming, and focus on well-being with fitness and enhanced education programs. To do that, as written in the report, centers need to boost their image with better marketing and branding.

Rebranding may be an important first step to attract younger seasoned adults and some Pacific Northwest area centers have taken that step. The former Senior Center of West Seattle is now called The Center for Active Living. In Portland’s Hollywood neighborhood, the Hollywood Senior Center renamed itself The Community for Positive Aging.

In Southern California

Rebranding may be an important first step to attract younger seasoned adults and some California centers have taken that step. American Canyon renamed its Senior Multi-Use Center, the Adult Activity Center. And Vallejo and Palm Desert’s Joslyn Center have dropped the word “senior” from their name to project a more relevant and engaging image.

The Los Angeles Department of Recreation and Parks oversees 29 senior centers located throughout the LA metropolitan area and several call themselves activity, adult, or multi-purpose centers. Others have retained their senior label but offer an array of vibrant older adult programming such as ukelele classes and Chinese calligraphy, salsa, pickleball, acting, and conversational Spanish. The ONE Generation Senior Enrichment Center operates an adjacent childcare preschool program and, as its name implies, offers multigenerational activities and older adult programs that include movie screenings, trips to the local farmer’s market, and cooking demonstrations.

As some California centers have discovered, co-locating activities and classes geared to older adults in community centers that serve all ages is both cost effective and promotes intergenerational community. Partnerships are also key. Where I live the local university’s Bernard Osher Lifelong Learning Institute has teamed up with the community senior center to move a few courses off the campus to the center, a win-win for both programs.

By 2030 more than 20% of Californians will be 65+, with its older population increasing three times faster than the rest of the U.S. Their dynamic generations lead nuanced lives that are as rich and complex as other age groups. They want their community gathering spaces to reflect that and to play a role in disrupting negative stereotypes about aging.

In Washington

Washington centers have retained their senior label but offer an array of vibrant older adult programming. The Northshore Senior Center, which bills itself as one of the largest senior centers in the country, takes a holistic approach to its services offering a full calendar of exercise classes such as ballet and pickleball, and recreational opportunities to play in a band, perform theater or learn guitar or piano. West Seattle’s Center for Active Living offered an autumn line-up of unique courses on artificial intelligence, jam-making, and Ghostology 101.

Co-locating activities and classes geared to older adults in community centers that serve all ages is both cost effective and promotes intergenerational community. The Federal Way Community Center senior program advertises, “Whoever coined the term the ‘sunset years’ for retirement has clearly never met a modern senior. Many seniors now maintain busier schedules than when they were working full-time. And they’re having fun! We couldn’t agree more. The Federal Way Community Center offers a full senior program with water- and land-based fitness activities, classes, contests, dancing, day trips, and special events.”

In 2018, Bainbridge Island’s Senior Community Center embarked on an all-ages listening tour to shift its emphasis from what the center could do for its members to what older adults could do for the community. The result is an in-progress new building designed to meet multiple needs, including those of the island’s 50+ population.

Washington’s 65+ population increased by 63 percent in the last decade. The dynamic generations in that group lead nuanced lives that are as rich and complex as other age groups. They want their community gathering spaces to reflect that new reality. “We will not hold onto outdated concepts of aging,” declares Bainbridge Senior Community Center. “Instead, we will provide the information, tools, and support that older adults (50+) want and need in their quest for healthy and engaged living as they age.”

Ann Randall is a freelance writer, organizational consultant and independent traveler who loves venturing to out-of-the-way locales from Azerbaijan to Zimbabwe. Retired from a career as a teacher and union organizer in public education, she now observes international elections, does volunteer work in India and writes regularly for 3rd Act, Northwest Travel & Life, West Sound Home & Garden, Fibre Focus and Dutch the Magazine.

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The post Reimagining and Revitalizing Senior Centers appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine.

From Judith Mayotte’s floor-to-ceiling, south-facing window on the 6th floor of the Skyline Retirement Community on Seattle’s First Hill, you can see the raised-bed gardens on the ground below. They are the work of a group of Skyline residents who call themselves the “Late Bloomers.” Mayotte enjoys looking down on the garden, quiet though it is on this February day. It’s one of the many things she appreciates about Skyline, where she has lived for six years.

But Mayotte is no late bloomer. She’s more of a continual bloomer. After a long career of working on refugee issues as a speaker, writer, professor, and advisor to presidents and international NGOs—that’s the extremely short version—Mayotte, who is 87, is far from done. She is now focused on climate change and the role it is playing in the worldwide refugee crisis. This fall, she gave a series of four talks on climate issues at St. James Cathedral called, “Living Neighbor Love Through Caring for Creation in a Changing Climate.”

And that brings up another thing Mayotte loves about Skyline—its location on First Hill, where she can use her “EV,” aka her electric wheelchair, to get her nearly anywhere she’d like to go, from World Affairs Council gatherings downtown to Benaroya Hall to Seattle University, where she has been a frequent guest speaker in History Professor Tom Taylor’s class on genocide in the modern world.

“When students hear her, they’re just always in awe,” says Taylor. “It’s her life story, as well as her enthusiasm. So as a selfish teacher, who is always trying to get students engaged,” he says Mayotte’s willingness to speak to his classes has been a powerful and inspiring gift.

Mayotte has been traveling via wheelchair since 1993, when she lost her leg, and very nearly her life, in a freak accident in southern Sudan (now South Sudan). She knew the region well because she had spent time there researching her 1992 book, Disposable People? The Plight of Refugees, and she was there at the time on behalf of Refugees International. Suddenly, a plane carrying emergency food and supplies flew in off-target for an aerial drop and she was hit by 200 pounds of bagged grain. Her days of traveling to remote refugee camps were over. But, as she put it, “The bags of grain didn’t hit my head, they hit my leg, and it was my bad polio leg, thank heavens, that got knocked off instead of my good leg. And,” she added, with absolute sincerity, “a lot of good things came out of it.”

She served as an advisor on refugees to the Clinton administration. And Professor Taylor hired her to teach at Seattle University. They became good friends. When Taylor and his wife adopted their daughter Alina from Kazakhstan, they asked Mayotte to be her godmother. Mayotte left Seattle to teach at Marquette University, her alma mater, where she was awarded the Women’s Chair in Humanistic Studies. She went on to lead several international study programs, includingthe Desmond Tutu Peace Center and Leadership Academy in Capetown, South Africa, where she lived for seven years.

When she returned to the U.S., she vowed that she would never live in a “place like this with old people,” and instead bought a three-bedroom condo in Washington, D.C., thinking that the third bedroom could be for a caregiver, at some distant point in the future when she might need one. But she was astonished to see that several relatives and friends, many of whom had made the same kind of vow, were now thriving in retirement complexes. She began to think hard about the value of living in community. After all, it was something she had done before, much earlier in her life, when she spent 11 years as a nun: first with the Sisters of Charity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, then with the Maryknoll Sisters.

Her Seattle friends encouraged her to return to the Pacific Northwest. She had already fallen in love with its natural beauty, but even more importantly, she realized it would make sense to be in a living situation where she could quickly make new friends, and easily see friends she already knew, like the Taylors.

“I’ve never been a person who’s planned in my life. So, I can’t say I did a lot of research,” Mayotte says. “I didn’t know anything about a CCRC or anything like that. I didn’t know how good it actually is.” A CCRC, or Continuing Care Retirement Community (or Life Plan Community) is a long-term residential option for older people who want to stay in the same place through different phases of the aging process. Skyline is what is known as a Type A Life Care community, which allows residents to age in one community, with rates predetermined for future health care needs, for as long as care is needed.

Mayotte, who is widowed and has no children, appreciates knowing that if or when she needs to, she can move to Skyline’s assisted living or skilled nursing wings, either temporarily—while healing from surgery, for example—or permanently.

But until that time comes, she is swimming laps every morning, and enjoying Skyline’s full calendar of lectures, classes, concerts, good meals, and lively conversations around the dinner table. She has pitched in on several resident committees, and volunteered up the street at St. James’ meal program. There’s a spirit at Skyline, she says: “I don’t know exactly what it is, but you feel a sense of community. You feel a sense of cohesiveness.”

When I asked her whether there was any downside at all to her current living situation, she paused for several seconds, before commenting that the costs of CCRCs are high and that she feels fortunate to be able to live at Skyline. But she couldn’t think of any other negatives.

“I just like getting up in the morning and having a full day. I really don’t have a down side. For me. I just feel privileged to be here,” Mayotte says. “But I feel like my whole life has been privileged, too.”

Contrary to what she might have imagined a decade or two ago, it turns out that living in an urban retirement community like Skyline, with its many resources, fits Mayotte’s engaged and outwardly focused lifestyle remarkably well.

Her friend Taylor concurs. “She’s just a person who feels engaged with the world. She feels that she has a strong desire to do what she can still do, and she goes at it.”

Ann Hedreen is an author (Her Beautiful Brain), teacher of memoir writing, and filmmaker. Ann and her husband, Rustin Thompson, own White Noise Productions and have made more than 150 short films and several feature documentaries together, including Quick Brown Fox: An Alzheimer’s Story. She is currently at work on a book of essays and is a regular contributor to 3rd Act Magazine, writing about topics including conscious aging, retirement, mindfulness, and health.

This story was made possible by funding support from Skyline Seattle and Transforming Age—a nonprofit organization committed to improving the lives of older adults by integrating housing, community services, technology, philanthropy, and partnerships. Go to skylineseattle.org for options and information on residing at Skyline, Seattle’s only Type A Life Care Community.

Read More Interesting Profiles from Ann Hedreen:

Jennifer James on the Bittersweet Reality of Being 80

Madonna Hanna: The Seed of Speed

Rev. Rick Reynolds—A Loving Presence

The post Judith Mayotte on the Paradox of Finding Independence Through Community Living appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine.

For thousands of years, our ancestors created and used maps to show where they were, where they wanted to go, and how to get home again. They also began to develop the skill of planning to ensure the safety of the trip—who to trust, what to pack, and how to protect themselves from hazards along the way.

Today, we have reached the point where our cell phones can immediately show us where we are and even what road to take to avoid traffic. We are at a place technologically where mapping and planning are built into our everyday lives, except in the very important aspect of successfully navigating our own personal voyage.

Our third act in life requires knowing the territory we face so that we can adjust our plan. It involves bringing together those whom you trust to assist on your journey, and the development of your map.

Understanding the Changing Dynamics

As an early “Baby Boomer,” I have experienced firsthand the impact our cohort of close to 73 million has had. We were the youth culture, we affected change in almost every aspect of our society, from clothing and lifestyles to attitudes on sexual behavior and global politics.

And while we chronologically change, the same long-held beliefs we had about changing the world around us are still valid. We will be the generation that reshapes and reconfigures how the older population is viewed, treated, and valued.

Our understanding of the territory ahead of us is affected both by the demographics (numbers) and the attitudes our society holds.

First the demographics. In Washington, the number of people age 65+ increased by 63 percent from 828,000 in 2010 to 1.35 million in 2022. Life expectancy in our state has now increased to 80.2 years. A real shocker was the 2020 Census Report showing that by 2034, for the first time in history, there will be more Americans age 65+ than those under the age of 18. And, within six years, all remaining boomers will be over 65.

Now for the attitudes. I grew up in a family with stoic Scandinavian values where personal issues and feelings were rarely discussed. Dad worked and controlled all the finances. Mom stayed home and managed the household and I learned early not to ask questions about the home finances, the health of any relatives, or any truly personal questions. When Dad died suddenly at age 60, the family was thrown into chaos. Mom had no idea how to get into the bank accounts or safe deposit box to access the life insurance policy.

Many attitudes about financial and family issues have changed over the decades, but some of those old views have stuck with us. According to the Volunteers of America, more than half of the 45-65 year olds surveyed have not talked to their family about the care they want to receive as they age. They have not completed their will, or other legal documents needed to allow their family to make important medical or legal decisions.

An Important First Step—the 40-70 Rule

For all of us boomers, now is the right time to change family dynamics and stop looking at our aging as a solo journey. Instead, implement the 40-70 rule. This rule says that when the children hit the age of 40, or parents reach 70 years, it is imperative to begin the family discussions on aging options. Topics such as what do you want to do if you have a physical or cognitive impairment? Do you want to have support to live in your own home or to instead move to a care facility? Do this together, as a family, so the road map to the future is understood and supported by all.

Fred Nystrom’s media and publishing experience includes starting a tabloid on outdoor recreation and growing it to a national circulation; a decade with Sunset magazine; publishing the Special Places travel guides, plus local magazines and contributing editor for a local newspaper. He is now focused on the issues and challenges of aging.

More articles on how to successfully navigate your future: 

Aging with Intention—Planning for the Third Chapter

When Things Change

Longevity Planning—Forecast: Sunny with a Chance of Rain

Longevity Planning

The post Keys to Successfully Navigating Your Future appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine.

I got rid of the albums. Several thousand of them. You can add your name to the list of those who counseled me: Hold a garage sale! Put them on eBay! They’re worth a fortune!

Yep, I told these well-meaning types, if I had the time and energy to devote, I might earn a little folding money. Sadly, I’m as old as some presidents but without the staff. My wife and I are focused on moving. Somewhere. To a small apartment, an assisted living space, to a location that can accommodate folks in old age. The specifics have not yet been determined, but none of the options advertise extra square footage for vinyl discs. Instead of a financial windfall for my records, I ended up paying someone to cart them to the Goodwill.

They can take my albums, but they ain’t getting my books. Thus, I’m struggling with a bibliophile’s dilemma.

I’m still reading and writing. Still collecting. (Don’t tell my wife. There is supposedly a moratorium on new book purchases.) On occasion, I have let go of various tomes. Disappointers that turned out to be less than their reputation would have it. I’ve shed some excess—I once felt it was necessary to collect an author’s entire bibliography. Salinger had only four published books—that was easy. John Updike wrote 60—that is a lot of shelf space.

I defend my decision to hang on to the 12 floor-to-almost-ceiling bookcases, plus a few modest hutches for the overflow. The approximately 200 feet of shelving supports a concept called “my library.” Again and again, these books have sent me into the world fortified with insights and bursting with questions.

Certain novels, Sophie’s Choice, for example, were so difficult to read, so sad, so real, so unsettling that they took me ages to finish. I could only digest a page, a paragraph, a scene, at a time. Other fiction was impossible to put down. How could you read Slaughterhouse Five with anything other than a dedication bordering on obsession?

There are horribly written books in my library, but they are the best I’ve been able to find on particular subjects. I’m prone to zooming in on enthusiasms. My interest in exploited rock and jazz artists during the 1950s and ’60s got me looking for books about an assortment of unscrupulous record companies and singers like Jackie Wilson and Jimmie Rodgers, and musicians like Count Basie, all allegedly shortchanged by organized crime. I no longer own their records, but I hold onto the written accounts of the stories behind them.

Hold up any of my books and I can tell you what it’s about and how it found its way to my library. My set of Masterplots, purchased in the ’60s, came from the original Strand Book Store when it was a mere corner shop at East 12th Street and Broadway in New York City. It offered books stamped “reviewer edition, not for sale,” and when I was a young teen, buying one felt akin to a clandestine transaction.

Long before you could locate copies of almost any book online, I spent years putting together the complete works of the better-known New Yorker humorists—Robert Benchley, James Thurber, et. al. Coming across Crazy Like a Fox, which completed my S.J. Perelman oeuvre, I took a deep breath, patted myself on the back, and went to work on E.B. White acquisitions.

While living in the West, I made regular runs to Acres of Books in Long Beach, Calif., comprised of three dusty, poorly lit warehouses containing endless rows of makeshift bookcases. I asked one of the elderly clerks there if he thought there might be any Maxwell Bodenheim books. Sure, he said, providing detailed instructions to the third warehouse, second row about halfway down, right side, top shelf, to the left. That’s how I got Duke Herring, Bodenheim’s 1931 novel.

One last bookshop reminiscence, though I could go on. I’m in Seattle on a rainy fall afternoon browsing my way through a secondhand bookstore. What a wonderful music system, I’m thinking. Amazing fidelity. I look up and find that the proprietor is at his upright accompanying my perusal.

When I think of Dickens, I recall attending high school in Massachusetts, our class sitting by a lively country fireplace, snow falling on the Berkshire Mountains, and Mr. Allen reading from A Christmas Carol. My books conjure up sounds and friends and memories along with stories and ideas.

Aunt Lily gave me Mr. Clemens and Mark Twain for my high school graduation. Her present was so much more than 400-plus pages of information. It was an introduction to the author’s world, his life, his views. Boy did my aunt start a landslide. I’m one of Mr. Twain’s best customers. Often when I’m reading him, I hear my father. Dad read many books to me, including Tom Sawyer. I also hear the voice of Hal Holbrook, whose “Mark Twain Tonight” I attended during four decades of the actor’s stage transmogrifications into Samuel Langhorne Clemens’ alter ego. And Holbrook’s memoirs about becoming Twain—I have those as well as the letter I received from the actor in response to my note. Book collecting is expansive.

Certain works are masterpieces. The sentences, the ingenuity, the juxtaposition of words and thoughts so brilliantly executed that I’m calling people to quote what I’m reading, emailing copies, returning to specific pages and paragraphs, underlined, of course, from time to time, because an author rouses my spirit, comforts me, or simply makes me smile and smile and smile as the years go by.

Walking into our living room, with eight bookcases lining a far wall, I know the place is alive with ideas that took thousands, perhaps millions, of hours to conceive and communicate. Many of the authors have died, but their thoughts, intentions, explanations, explorations, confessions, passions, conjectures, and questions still influence conversations I have when friends drop by. They also instill circumspection as I sit alone, book in hand, communing with a small portion of the transmitted experience.

Sadly, the prospect that I’ll retain my entire collection may be delusional. There are backup plans and strategies for preserving the essence of what I’ve built during 65 years of book collecting. Keep absolute favorite authors and discard the rest? Norman Mailer and Susan Sontag—do they go? Hang on to William Manchester, toss Stephen Ambrose? Perhaps only Booker- and Pulitzer Prize winners? For a while, I considered liberating a few categories. How about the oddball humor books like Richard Armour, and Irvin S. Cobb? Max Shulman, and H. Allen Smith? Probably, I couldn’t give their books away. Should I?  What if they ended up in the trash bin behind Half Price Books? How many copies of Don’t Get Perconel With a Chicken are left in this world? And, yes, that is the actual title. Could it be that I end up discarding the very last one?

My best backup plan seems to be to hire a skilled photographer to snap pictures of each bookcase. Clear, sharp images of my collection, full color, with those little mementos—theater tickets, bookmarks—filling incidental shelf space. I retain a hundred books and donate the rest of my collection to the community by holding a series of come-and-get-it open houses designed to place my books in the hands of other collectors. I find a craftsperson, service, printer, or commercial artist who can turn the pictures into life-size wallpaper. Then, no matter where we end up, I can walk into our next residence and feel at home.

Based in Seattle, Charles E. Kraus is a writer, entertainer, and memory improvement teacher. Charles is the author of Baffled Again … and Again, a collection of essays. His most recent book, You’ll Never Work Again in Teaneck, NJ (a memoir) is available in local libraries and on Amazon.

This piece was previously published in the Boston Globe

More insightful essays by Charles E. Kraus:

Why I Decided to Turn 75

The Costume Makes Me Ageless (Almost)

How to Improve Your Recall by Reconnecting Memories

The post A Bibliophile’s Dilemma appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine.

At Quail Park of Lynnwood, residents age artfully by participating in events that they enjoy such as seated Yoga and Zumba classes, one-on-one training with our Certified Personal Coach, water aerobic classes, live musical events, trips to local casinos and theaters, educational speakers, card games, book club, church services, and so much more! “It’s fun!” is how one person described artful aging at Quail Park.

I also think of health when I think of aging artfully. If we’re not in good health, it affects us in a myriad of ways that hinder our ability to age well. Pain can cause us to be sad and grumpy. An inability to perform the tasks we did when we were younger can cause stress and fear. Lack of socialization can cause poor nutrition and depression.

In a senior living community, such as Quail Park, there are opportunities to alleviate those health issues that hinder artful aging. Medical staff is available to help with pain management and everyday tasks, great neighbors are there to socialize with and talk to about life. I can actually hear a couple of residents outside of my door right now talking about upcoming medical appointments, family dynamics, and what they’re planning on eating for lunch today. Pizza cooked in our in-house pizza oven sounds great!

If you’re looking for new ways to artfully age, visit Quail Park of Lynnwood and check out how we do it! We’d be happy to share some ideas and would love to have you join us for an activity, an event, and/or a meal in our dining room. Hope to see you soon!

Click here to read more articles on senior community living by Sue Rowell in 3rd Act Magazine.

The post Artful Aging Helps Us Live Brilliantly at Quail Park appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine.

A twin bed came with the apartment, and I sit on its edge to eat at a vintage typewriter table just big enough for a placemat.

A pair of windows bathe my corner unit in natural light and fresh air, my most prized amenities. I’m down to about two dozen books, my clothes take up less than three feet of space, and I have exactly two bowls and three plates (but I don’t really need that many). Although I hung onto my simple stick vacuum for now, I sometimes use a lint roller to do the job.

Oh, and I just turned 62. Some of my new neighbors are older like me, here because they’re in transition or this is the only place they can still afford in Seattle. Others, just getting started in their adult lives, see this as the means to an end—and a beginning. For me, it’s all these things: A few days after Christmas, I’ll pack a single carry-on suitcase and a tote bag, store what little I have left with friends and family, and wander the world for a few years. Meanwhile, I’m saving $600 a month in rent, most of it going into my travel fund.

This is the most portable life I’ve ever had, far more so than in my 20s, when I hauled a big stereo, crates of albums, and boxes of books from place to place. I’ll admit it was a little painful to give up some things in my final round of downsizing—the small hand-painted chest of drawers I bought half a lifetime ago is one example, a favorite but faded mid-century armchair another.

In the end, though, it’s all just stuff. Most of us own too much stuff—and it’s owning us, too, weighing us down physically, financially, even spiritually. Our homes are crammed with possessions, and about one in five Americans rents a storage unit, according to Yardi Matrix, a commercial real estate information clearinghouse.

Yet none of us will be here forever, and someday, someone is going to have to deal with our stuff if we don’t get around to it while we’re still around. If you’ve reached a time in your life where you’re ready to lighten up, here are a some ways to get started:

Have a goal or two. Do you yearn to travel? Do you seek to spare family from having to deal with a mound of material goods once you’re gone? Maybe you want to spend less time and money maintaining a big house.

Know that it’s OK to go slow. I’ve done my downsizing over multiple moves over many years. What’s important is to begin and keep at it. As Courtney Carver, author of Soulful Simplicity, writes, “One thing at a time. You didn’t clutter up your home overnight and you aren’t going to become clutter-free overnight.”

Start with the easy stuff. Obsolete electronics. Extra tools. Abandoned hobby supplies. You don’t need to toss these things in the trash (see the sidebar for ideas on where to take them.)

Living with less doesn’t mean nothing. What possessions hold the most meaning for you? These are your “keepers.” Curate a small collection of things that spark memories—and yes, joy. Hang onto things you will display, wear, use, and enjoy rather than stow in boxes.

Ask for help. I made plenty of Goodwill runs but I gratefully paid to have a last load of big and unwieldy items hauled away. If you envision a major downsizing project, it may pay to hire a professional organizer. Many senior communities offer expert assistance in this area, too.

Involve family and friends. When my husband died five years ago, I brought some of his many treasures to his memorial service and invited people to take something to remember him by. My sister in too-young widowhood, Katherine, asked her husband’s family to visit and help her sort through the decades of his active outdoor life. “With laughter and tears, we have remembered and have made new memories,” she reports.

If your adult children have stored things at your place, the upcoming holidays may be a good time for them to take what they still want. You may also want to offer a few things of yours for them to have now, while you’re still around and can tell the tales behind the objects, but don’t be offended if they say no.

Photos may be enough. Before my most recent move, I bid farewell to some cherished things great and small, from a beloved-but-chipped antique Christmas ornament to an awesome orange cell phone and blue iPod from the dawn of this century—but not before I took pictures to remember them by.

Move to a smaller place. It may be the surest opportunity and excuse you will get to whittle your possessions and live a simpler-yet-satisfying life. Tastes and needs vary, but you likely could be happy in a far smaller home than the one you have now.

Take time to understand what might work for you. Try some pint-size vacation rentals on for size. For me, about 500-square-feet with a balcony (and two sinks) feels like the sweet spot I’ll seek once my vagabond days are done, and one I’ll start filling … with just a bit of new stuff.

Julie Fanselow lives in Seattle—for now.

Sidebar:

Where to send your stuff when downsizing

There are places to consider beyond standard choices like Goodwill and the Salvation Army.

Seattle ReCreative (https://www.seattlerecreative.org) accepts supplies for arts, crafts, and classroom use. Habitat for Humanity ReStores (https://www.habitat.org/restores) take hardware, furniture, appliances, and more, with some free pickup of large items.

Search online for upcoming shredding events and tech recycling opportunities near you; many banks and real estate offices offer them several times a year. Ask local homeless shelters what they need such as travel-size toiletries, paper goods, blankets, and warm clothes that are often in demand.

I’ve stashed books in Little Free Libraries and shared items via a local Buy Nothing group (check listings on Facebook.) I’ve even used the sidewalk “free” method a time or two—but only for things that I’m pretty sure will be picked up quickly, without becoming neighborhood blight. You could use major online tools like eBay and Amazon to sell your stuff to private buyers, but with package theft on the rise, I’ve found it’s not worth the hassle.

More articles by Julie Fanselow.

The post Lessons on Downsizing—Lighten Up While You Still Can appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine.

Visiting senior living communities, such as Quail Park of Lynnwood, before you want or need to move puts you in the driver’s seat. You know what you like and what you enjoy doing. By visiting different communities you can narrow down, for yourself and your family, the communities that you would be comfortable living in. Then, if you do decide to move into a senior living community, or if life takes a turn and you can’t remain at home safely, you’ve intentionally made the decision as to which one(s) you want.

Another intentional choice is how involved you want to be. Many senior living communities have more activities and events than you can possibly enjoy. I hear from our residents quite often that they have to make a choice between this activity or that one because so many are available. What a wonderful problem to have!

Exercise and health are other intentional choices that we make on a daily basis. Will we eat well today, or splurge a bit and have that big piece of cake? At Quail Park of Lynnwood, the four pages of dining options (along with the two dining rooms and pub) give you multiple opportunities to be intentional with your food choices. The gym, indoor pool, and exercise classes also offer options for health and wellness (and to exercise off that piece of cake!).

Socialization is also an intentional decision and one that becomes more difficult as we age. In a study published on Feb. 20, 2019, in The Journals of Gerontology, it was reported that older adults who interact with people beyond their usual social circle (family and close friends) are more likely to have higher levels of physical activity, greater positive moods, and fewer negative feelings. Living in a senior living community provides so many opportunities to be with others and enjoy the benefits of increased socialization.

If you’re curious about senior living, and how you can live with intention in a community, call or visit Quail Park of Lynnwood today. We’d love to show you around!

See more by Sue Rowell

The post Living with Intention in Senior Living appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine.

Parks feels no obligation to persuade everyone she meets that cohousing is their own perfect lifestyle model. But she does, fervently, wish to connect with anyone who might love cohousing, if only they understood better what it was.

Cohousing communities are not communes. Parks defines cohousing as “a neighborhood design that combines the autonomy of private dwellings with the advantages of living in a supportive community.” People own their own homes, which range from single-family houses to townhomes to one or two-story condominiums. But they also “own” access to outdoor and indoor common spaces. In an urban community, the common outdoor spaces might be a roof garden and an inner courtyard. In an exurban or rural community, there might be a lawn or meadow, patios, and other gathering spots, a few acres of forest, and/or a large garden, with or without chickens. The indoor common space in most cohousing communities is a building that houses a large kitchen and dining area—where communal meals happen as frequently as several times a week or as seldom as once a month—and often, in addition, a living room, a game room, a children’s playroom, spare bedrooms for visiting guests, storage, shared laundry, and a shared tool library. “People say it’s the perfect balance between privacy and community,” Parks says.

Skagit Commons in Anacortes is one of the very newest cohousing communities in the Pacific Northwest. The community includes 15 flats in one light-filled, 3-story building, and 15 townhomes along a pedestrian pathway, with a common building in-between. Directly to the north is a protected wetland meadow. To the east and south is a residential Anacortes neighborhood. To the west, and also south, are those trail-filled parcels of the Anacortes Community Forest Lands.

As of January 2023, Skagit Commons is Shelly Parks’ home. She and her husband Charles downsized from a single-family house in Edmonds to a 600-square-foot, third-floor flat with a view of Mt. Baker from the front door.

For Parks—as for everyone who chooses cohousing—this was no overnight decision. She had a career she loved, in sales and marketing for retirement communities. But something was stirring in her. One night, about seven or eight years ago, as she tells it, “I was doing a Google search and I just stumbled on cohousing, and I remember thinking, ‘Oh, this is how we’re supposed to live. We’re supposed to live in community. Interdependent with each other.’”

“It just spoke to me,” she continues. “A lot of people will say, ‘It’s what I had in my head, and then I heard there was a name for it.’” A few months later, Parks attended a national conference on senior cohousing in Salt Lake City. Her career shift had begun.

“Communitas” is the word architect Grace Kim, who designed Skagit Commons, used in a 2017 TED talk that has been viewed by 2.5 million people called “Communitas: The Spirit of Community.” Kim, who also designed and is a founding resident of Capitol Hill Cohousing in Seattle, went on to speak—and this was three years before the COVID-19 pandemic began—about the “public health epidemic of isolation” and how “cohousing is an antidote. Cohousing can save your life.”

Kim may not be overstating things. In The Good Life: Lessons from the World’s Longest Scientific Study of Happiness, authors (and also directors of the study) Robert Waldinger and Mark Schulz said this about the key to a long and health life: “One thing continuously demonstrates its broad and enduring importance—good relationships.”

This all makes tons of sense to Parks. Though she has worked in sales all her life, she describes herself as an introvert. “More introverts are attracted to cohousing than extraverts,” she says. “People are always surprised by that. But it’s true. Left to my own devices, I would isolate myself. I know that about myself. Being in community allows me relationships that are easier. It allows me to be more vulnerable. More who I am. There is something about a group of people coming together to say, ‘We’re committed to each other,’ that allows you to. I don’t feel as judged, if that makes sense.”

To her surprise and delight, she also sees her recently retired husband—who is also an introvert, or so Parks had always thought— “thriving in a way I’d never imagined. Every day since we have lived here, he’s off helping somebody with some project. We’re the only people with a pickup truck.”

Kristine Forbes, who recently moved from a Seattle cohousing community to one in Olympia, understands this sense of thriving. Though cohousing requires commitment—intention, as Grace Kim would say—it is also, in Forbes’ words, “uncomplicated and stable.” And, always, “a growth experience.”

“Something happens when you know your neighbor,” writes architect Charles Durrett in A Solution to Homelessness in Your Town, a profile of an affordable cohousing community in Napa County, California, created for formerly homeless seniors, especially veterans. Durrett, who with his ex-wife Kathryn McCamant is viewed as a pioneer of co-housing in the United States, has authored 15 books about on the subject, including The Senior Cohousing Handbook. He led the architectural team for Quimper Village, a 55+ cohousing community in Port Townsend viewed as a model for senior cohousing projects.

For people in their third act, cohousing offers the kind of neighborly help we’re all likely to need from time to time: after a hip replacement, for example. Residents whose needs increase over time may not be able to stay forever. But the health and wellness benefits of cohousing may help older residents live longer on their own.

“I’ve never seen anybody pick themselves up by their own bootstraps, ever,” Durrett told me. “But I’ve seen a lot of people that have been virtually picked up by the bootstraps by a community. Metaphorically and really.”

“If you are going to look ahead at your life and say, ‘how am I going to age well?’ you’ve got to have in there that you’re going to be in community in some way,” says Parks. For some people, that might mean their faith community or a tight circle of nearby neighbors, friends, or family. But cohousing offers a different model. An intentional model. And the more you learn about it, the more you may find yourself, as Shelly Parks did, saying “This makes sense.”

Ann Hedreen is an author (Her Beautiful Brain), teacher of memoir writing, and filmmaker. Hedreen and her husband, Rustin Thompson, own White Noise Productions and have made more than 150 short films and several feature documentaries together, including Quick Brown Fox: An Alzheimer’s Story. She is currently at work on a book of essays. 

The post Shelly Parks Wants You to Get to Know Cohousing appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine.

The thought of moving from your home is daunting. In my 25+ years working in the senior living industry, I’ve never had someone walk though the front door yelling, “Yea! I made it to a senior living community!” However, after about three months or so, I do hear most of the people state, “I wish I’d done this sooner.”

Moving can feel like you’re giving up years of memories and good times. Your daughter took her first steps there in the living room. Your son fell and broke his arm riding his bike in the driveway. You’ve had the family around the dining room table to celebrate birthdays and holidays.

It’s natural to feel sad or nostalgic when leaving a home that holds so many memories. However, it’s important to focus on the positive aspects of the move and the many benefits that a senior living community can offer. These communities are designed to meet the unique needs of older adults and can provide a variety of services, such as assistance with daily tasks, access to healthcare professionals, and transportation to appointments. Many communities also offer a range of recreational activities and opportunities for lifelong learning, which can help keep you active and engaged. And you’ll make so many different, fun memories with your new neighbors and friends which will maintain, and even strengthen, social connections.

As we age, it can be difficult to let go of the familiar and move to a new living situation. However, for many, transitioning to a senior living community, such as Quail Park of Lynnwood, can be the best decision for their overall health, well-being, and quality of life.  It’s important to remember that these communities are designed to support and enhance the lives of their residents, not to diminish their autonomy. Many offer a wide range of activities, amenities, and services that allow residents to maintain their independence and live fulfilling lives.

In the end, the decision to move to a senior living community is a personal one and will depend on your individual circumstances and needs. While it can be a difficult decision to make, it’s important to remember that making the move can lead to an enhanced quality of life and peace of mind.

The post Moving? Let Go of the Space, Hold on to the Memories appeared first on 3rd Act Magazine.