The Real Story of Aging: As Experienced and as Ministry To the Other

The following letter was sent earlier this week to all members of the American Association of Homes and Services for the Aging (AAHSA) by Larry Minnix, our AAHSA President, who is also a Methodist minister. Larry can talk the statistical, bottom line, give a surpass-the-competition kind of talk with a valid and assured competence. Larry also “gets it” about the real mission of serving our elders, and always communicates that mission in messages such as these to the membership.
In this letter, Larry writes about a woman who, incidentally, lived and died at a Continuing Care Retirement Center here in San Francisco: The Sequoias, a Presbyterian-sponsored ministry.

The letter is worthy of broad distribution for these reasons:
Larry dismisses the myths of aging often portrayed in the public media; he also rejects the botox-using, aging-denying efforts all too prevalent in our American society.

He shows how Jean Wright and those of her ilk, lived her life to the fullest. She embraced her aging as part of the “fulfilling process of the life cycle.”
Larry observed that Jean “lived fully until she died. She trusted in the grace of it all. She reminded us that our mission together is about the people we serve.”
I share this letter with the hope that it will stir reflections among each of us about honoring our own aging and those among us, that it will draw us to a deeper consciousness of the sacredness of this “Third Act” -- our own and those we love -- and the profound implications therein.

Jean Wright: The Real Story of Aging
By Larry Minnix
May is dedicated to older Americans. Maybe it's because I'm becoming one. Maybe it's because a great one, Jean Wright of The Sequoias, recently passed. But lately I have been giving a lot of thought to the real story of aging in our society.

Older Americans Month is a great opportunity to reflect on aging and role models of successful aging. Throughout May (Yes, I'm starting early), I plan to present role models I have known.

The media often portrays aging as either comedic characters who can get away with edgy comments because of age or, more recently, the once beautiful or handsome movie star who has been retreaded with botox and cosmetic surgical work to become the “70 year old who’s the new 40” kind of image.

Don’t get me wrong, I like edgy "senior" comedy. There is an outrageous quality about some of it that I find fun, and I think Raquel Welch was gorgeous at 29 and looks good at 69. No value judgment about either.

It’s just that, well, those role models are not the real story of aging. But Jean Wright is. And I do not believe our society and culture will ever fully embrace aging as a part of the fulfilling process of the life cycle until we understand and appreciate people like Jean.
On Feb. 7, 2010, at the age of 86, Jean died at The Sequoias, a storied AAHSA member, where she lived with her husband for 28 years. Jean’s daughter, Deborah, said Jean was “…surrounded in death by her husband and children.” Reminds me of Abraham and Sarah’s passing in the Old Testament. They died “a good old age.”

Jean was a “powerful lady,” says Ramona Davies, a friend of Jean and a Northern California Presbyterian Homes and Services leader. Jean was elected to the Aging Services of California board, the AAHSA House of Delegates, and was the first resident to serve on AAHSA’s Board of Directors.

Ramona stated it well: In every session Jean attended, she would remind providers and residents alike who we are supposed to be serving. She could make us uncomfortable in doing so, but you always knew that Jean was one of our biggest fans.

I admired her tenacity as her body steadily betrayed her. She rarely missed our AAHSA board meeting, traveling across country to attend. On two occasions, we had to call 911 because she had fallen at a hotel event. She didn’t like the fuss and didn’t miss the meetings.

There were special intangibles about Jean. She exuded integrity, hope, disciplined thought, and principles. She inspired confidence and trust. One time, my wife and I hosted an informal dinner for the AAHSA board at our home. We had a skittish border collie mix named Bear. Bear really only loved his family and barked at other people. Jean came into our home, sat on our couch, and Bear immediately bonded with her. Jean faithfully asked about Bear when we’d correspond.

Deborah, Jean's daughter, referred to Jean’s Sequoias/ASC/AAHSA years as “Act Three” of Jean’s life. What a concept! In the latter days of Act Three, Jean taught us one of the most valuable lessons that can be taught: How to recognize the near end of life and how to accept the inevitability of it.

After steady deterioration of body, Jean asked to be part of “Comfort Care” status. She had “…long been an advocate of compassionate choices related to end-of-life care,” wrote Deborah. Jean “graciously accepts the path she has chosen.”

O, death, where is thy sting?

Deborah asked Jean what message she wanted us to receive from her. Teacher and purveyor of wisdom to the very end, Jean replied, “Tell them that I’ve had a good, good life and that I am grateful for the role each of them has played in that life. No regrets!”
Jean Wright‘s life, dying, and death are the real story of aging in a healthy way. She lived fully until she died. She trusted in the grace of it all.

She reminded us that our mission together is about the people we serve, and that, like the Sequoias obviously knows, you and I are in the “No regrets” business during the “Act Three” of people’s lives.

People like Jean give all of us confidence about the life cycle. We trusted her. We can trust beyond ourselves. Even Bear, my mistrusting dog, sensed it. Jean, we already miss you!

Let’s celebrate people like Jean in May.