A Damnable Slow Death

Welcome, readers, to my new blog and the e-zine within. The look is the same, but I hope the content will be relevant, and will offer insights into issues of aging and the rights of elders.

We have seniors in our lives, who end each day and greet the dawn, grateful for life. Others soldier on, managing in spite of ... in spite of the pain, in spite of poverty, in spite of the neglect of loved ones. Still others have stopped living; these are people counting time.

One neighbor of mine in a senior high rise apartment complex said, "My friends and I came here to die." When I asked her how long she had lived there, she said, "Oh, I've been here, since the place opened twenty years ago!" "That's a damnable, slow death," I replied.

Neither group, the thrilled to be alive, nor the treading water 'til death, vary according to income or privilege. My hope is to walk in beauty. Here is part of a Native American prayer:

Let me walk in beauty

and let my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset.

Make my hands respect the things you have made

and my ears sharp to hear your voice.

Make me wise, so that I may understand the things

you have taught my people.

Let me learn the lesson you have hidden

in every leaf and rock.