Ida's New Neighbors
Three Converging Journeys
Your hear-and-read option:
Listen to Ida’s story as you read it (below).
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, not her usual cup of tea, filled the air in the communal lounge on the third floor of Willow Creek Condominiums. Ida settled herself into her floral armchair – the only piece of furniture that truly felt like her in this new place.
Rosie, a very put-together woman in a tailored pantsuit, was tapping away on her tablet.
Susan, younger than Ida by a good few years and dressed in those stretchy clothes they wear to the gym, had her nose in a book.
They were an odd trio, brought together by the welcome basket the condo association had left.
"92 years," Ida mused aloud, mostly to herself, but she wanted them to hear it. A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "Imagine all the changes I've seen. When Charlie and I first married, we only had one car, and he needed it for his route at the gas company. If I wanted to go anywhere, it was the bus or my own two feet. Though, with four little ones underfoot, my feet got plenty of exercise!"
Rosie looked up from her tablet, a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's funny how different things were," she said. "By the time Rick and I had the girls, we had two cars, a necessity with my job at Dayton's. I started right out of high school, no fancy degrees, just grit and a knack for numbers. Worked my way up, one negotiation at a time, until I was leading the whole buying department."
Susan, marking her page with a slender finger, offered a wry smile. "A different kind of marathon indeed. By the time Mark and I were starting our careers, the expectation was a college degree, often several. Law school felt like another full-time job, and then the corporate world … We made a conscious decision not to have children; our focus was on our careers."
Ida couldn't help but chuckle. "Careers," she said, drawing out the word. "That word meant something so different for Charlie and me. His career was providing for us. My 'career' was keeping the home fires burning and stretching a dollar until it hollered."
Rosie nodded, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "I remember those days, Ida. My mother was a homemaker, too. But by the time I was starting out, the world was shifting. There was this sense that women could do more outside the home. It wasn't always easy balancing work and family, the guilt of missing a school play or staying late for a crucial meeting. But I wanted to prove myself in a world that wasn't always ready for women in power."
"That push for equality was certainly gaining momentum by my generation," Susan added. "For Mark and me, it was a given that we would both have careers, that we would be equal partners in that respect. The idea of sacrificing one's professional ambitions for family felt … antiquated, at least in our circle."
Ida raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Antiquated! Oh, my dears, the world turns so fast. For us, the biggest debate was whether to splurge on a second television!"
"We had our own set of challenges," Susan conceded. "The pressure to constantly perform, the juggling act of demanding schedules, the feeling that you always had to be 'on.' We saw many of our colleagues struggle to find a balance. So, we chose a different path regarding family."
Rosie leaned forward, her gaze softening. "But there were also incredible rewards. The satisfaction of achieving something professionally, of being financially independent, of contributing to the world in a tangible way. It wasn't always easy, but I wouldn't trade those years at Dayton's for anything. It shaped me, gave me a confidence I never thought I had."
"Confidence came in different forms for us," Ida reflected. "Mine was in knowing I could raise four healthy, happy children on a tight budget, in creating a home that was a haven for my family. When Charlie came home tired from his route, smelling of gasoline, that home was his sanctuary."
Susan smiled gently. "It's fascinating to hear your perspectives. The choices available to us, the paths open to us, were so different."
"And yet," Rosie interjected, a warm smile gracing her lips, "here we are, all neighbors, sharing coffee and stories. Different paths, different choices -- but a shared space in this moment."
Ida nodded. her eyes twinkling. "That's the beauty of life, isn't it? All these different journeys converging."
Susan and Rosie exchanged amused glances. Despite their vastly different life experiences, Ida felt a sense of camaraderie was beginning to bloom among them. It was nice, this feeling of connection. The aroma of coffee mingled with the murmur of their voices, a gentle symphony of three distinct lives finding harmony in their new shared space.
Ida thought she was going to like it at Willow Creek.
Also hear and read Ida’s “parent story” from 2024
Go to “Pat’s Roundtable about ‘Dad as a Mentor’“
Age: Our Greatest Asset!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Graying”
Weekly Stories About Aging Well
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Pam, my wife, and I moved into a senior living community from a condo five years ago when we were both 77.
At the time, I didn’t consider myself as part of the older portion of our population. But, during our two years of research before choosing a location (we visited seven different communities in two Midwestern states), I began to realize adults beyond 65 were just as diverse as individuals 45 and younger – individuals I thought I understood because I routinely hired college student interns for summer jobs while I was working.
But, at 77, I began to hear riveting life stories from fellow community members (55 to well beyond 90). I finally began to understand and appreciate shades of aging and experience that are a part of today’s older adult tapestry.
By the way, today’s stories (about Ida and Pat) are based on bits of true stories I’ve heard over the dinner table during the last five years.
* When have you recognized the rich diversity today's older adults bring to your world?