ProAging Podcast

What do you actually do with a lifetime of belongings — the collections nobody else wants, the boxes of photos, the furniture too big for a new place? In this live recording from the North Laurel Community Center, Steve Gurney of the Positive Aging Community sits down with a room of about 50 attendees for an open, often funny, sometimes emotional conversation about downsizing and decluttering.

Steve shares the concept of Swedish Death Cleaning (döstädning) — deciding now, together, who gets what — along with practical tools like small-scale decluttering ("just tackle one drawer"), turning collections into keepsake photo books, and getting a reluctant spouse on board one small win at a time. Attendees jump in throughout with their own hard-won tips: where to donate books and jewelry locally, what happens to your stuff when settling an estate, and how one family turns New Year's Day into a decluttering tradition.

Whether you're facing your own move or helping a parent through one, this conversation offers real strategies — and a reminder that it's never really about the stuff.

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Posted by Positive Aging Community on 08/12/2026

Beyond Safe: Rethinking Dementia Care for Real Living

proaging memory care

A new vision for supporting those with dementia focuses on enabling a full life within safe boundaries—not just custodial control

This article accompanies the recorded presentation "Beyond Safe: Rethinking Dementia Care for Real Living," featuring Barbara J. Huelat and Ruth Shea from the Taming the Chaos of Dementia Institute. For the full video presentation, slides, and additional resources, visit tamingthechaosofdementia.org.

For decades, the dementia care model has centered on a single imperative: manage the disease, reduce behavioral problems, keep them safe. But a growing movement in senior care is asking a radically different question: How can we help those with dementia continue to live fully?

This shift—from management to empowerment—represents a fundamental reimagining of what dementia care can be. Rather than isolating residents in controlled environments, this approach recognizes that people living with dementia retain feelings, preferences, and desires that deserve respect and nourishment. With proper environmental design, compassionate communication, and targeted interventions, caregivers and care facilities can create spaces where people don't merely survive, but genuinely thrive.

Barbara J. Huelat, an architect and designer of healthcare facilities with deep personal experience in dementia caregiving, and Ruth Shea, a geriatric social worker and sandwich caregiver, have spent years researching and documenting what actually works. Their presentation at the Positive Aging Community event drew on their collective expertise to outline a practical framework for transformation—one that's now being implemented in memory care communities across the country and around the world.

The Current Model Falls Short

The numbers are staggering. By 2050, an estimated 12.5 million Americans will have Alzheimer's disease. Yet despite decades of research, most care environments still rely on an institutional model built around safety and custodial care—often at the cost of autonomy, choice, and personal identity.

The problem isn't hard to identify. Institutional environments typically prioritize:

This approach creates what experts call "disempowerment"—stripping away the very things that make life worth living.

A Different Way: The Village Model

More than 20 years ago, a revolutionary model emerged in a small community in the Netherlands. Rather than a traditional nursing home or facility, it was reimagined as a village—complete with shops, cafés, gardens, and meaningful spaces. Every aspect was designed around one core principle: normalcy. In her presentation, Huelat traces how this model has evolved and spread globally, always maintaining its core focus on helping people live, not just be managed.

This model fundamentally reframes the environment to support independence and belonging. Instead of residents, there are neighbors. Instead of rigid schedules, there are routines that reflect individual preferences. Instead of clinical sterility, there are familiar spaces with purpose and meaning.

The difference is not cosmetic. Research and real-world observation reveal that thoughtful environmental design actually changes how the brain functions—even as dementia progresses. Huelat's architectural background brings particular insight into how design decisions—from color selection to wayfinding strategies—work invisibly but powerfully to either support or undermine independence.

How Design Shapes Behavior

Architectural and environmental design works in the background, often invisibly, but with profound impact. Every color choice reinforces either independence or dependency. Visual cues guide the brain without requiring conscious effort.

When a toilet is color-coded to stand out, someone with dementia can find it without asking for directions. When hallway layouts avoid dead ends and create clear, familiar destinations, wandering becomes safe exploration rather than dangerous confusion. When spaces reduce cognitive overload—by eliminating confusing visual clues and simplifying choices—the brain can focus on what really matters: connection, meaning, and belonging.

Key environmental design principles include:

Understanding Behavior as Communication

One of the most transformative insights in dementia care is recognizing that behavior is language. When someone with dementia can no longer express needs and feelings in words, they communicate through their body, tone, and actions. This insight, developed through Ruth Shea's years as a geriatric social worker and her personal caregiving experience, is central to the Taming the Chaos of Dementia framework.

A person who resists bathing isn't being difficult—they're expressing fear, confusion, or sensory discomfort. Someone who repeatedly asks for a deceased loved one may be seeking the feeling of safety and love that person provided. Escalating agitation often signals pain, hunger, fatigue, or overstimulation that the person cannot articulate.

When caregivers understand behavior as meaningful communication, everything changes. The response shifts from correction to understanding. Instead of "You're wrong" or "Stop that," the approach becomes "What are you trying to tell me?" Shea emphasizes that the goal is not to control behavior, but to understand what need or feeling it's expressing—and then address that underlying cause.

Common Behavioral Triggers

Understanding what triggers escalating behavior is essential for prevention and intervention. Caregivers and facilities should look for triggers in four categories:

Environmental triggers: Temperature extremes, excessive noise, poor lighting, clutter

Physical triggers: Inappropriate clothing, hunger, fatigue, pain, unmet toileting needs

Emotional triggers: Anxiety, sadness, grief, anger, frustration—and for many, the repeated grief of re-learning about death

Social triggers: Isolation, lack of engagement, insufficient physical touch, or conversely, overstimulation from too many people or too much activity

The critical insight is recognizing the escalation cycle. What begins as confusion or anxiety can escalate to resistance, then to dramatic reactions if not addressed compassionately. At any point in that cycle, the right intervention—especially positive distraction—can redirect the brain and prevent full escalation.

The Power of Positive Distraction

Among the most practical and effective tools caregivers have is positive distraction—redirecting attention to something emotionally meaningful. This works because the emotional centers of the brain remain relatively intact even as cognitive function declines.

Distractions work best when they connect to emotional attachment. Consider what moved the person in their life: music from their youth, photographs of loved ones, food they cherished, contact with a pet, or a favorite activity.

An example: A father struggling with daily care became agitated and resistant during personal care routines. When his adult child recognized that mention of ice cream reliably shifted his mood, ice cream became a powerful tool for redirection—not manipulation, but compassionate acknowledgment of what brought him joy.

The mechanism is simple but powerful: short-term memory—the weakest cognitive function in dementia—means the immediate distressing situation fades quickly when attention is redirected. The person often forgets what upset them and can move forward peacefully.

Practical Interventions Caregivers Can Implement Today

Huelat and Shea have developed a framework of interconnected intervention pillars that work together to create empowerment. These tools are effective both in family home settings and in professional care facilities. As they emphasize in their presentation, transformation doesn't come from one place or one tool—it comes from the integration of multiple approaches applied with genuine understanding of the person and their needs.

1. Know the Person

This is perhaps the most powerful tool family caregivers possess. You know what brings joy. You know what causes fear. You understand the person's life story, values, and preferences in ways no care facility staff member can.

Share this knowledge generously and repeatedly. Create a life story document that travels with your loved one if they move to a care facility. Include details about their career, hobbies, family relationships, food preferences, and what gave them meaning. When care staff understands who the person was and still is, they can provide far more personalized and effective care.

2. Preserve Normalcy

Maintain normal routines as much as possible. Eat dinner together as you did before. Keep familiar objects around—the worn recliner, the old teapot, favorite photographs. Don't replace everything with institutional newness. These items aren't nostalgia; they're anchors that preserve identity and reduce confusion.

When suggesting care routines, approach them as normal life activities, not clinical tasks. A shower becomes "getting ready for dinner" or "freshening up," discussed within the context of a normal day.

3. Communicate with Presence

How you communicate matters as much as what you say. Use body language, touch, and tone to convey that you care. Make eye contact. Touch an arm or shoulder. Speak slowly and face the person so they can see your lips. Adjust lighting so they can see you clearly.

Critically, validate more than you correct. When someone with dementia insists something happened that didn't, or states something inaccurate, arguing is futile and counterproductive. Instead, acknowledge their feeling: "I can see this is important to you" or "Tell me more about that." Then use positive distraction to move forward.

4. Create Meaningful Engagement

Not all activities are equal. Finger painting means nothing to someone who spent their career as an executive and never colored in their life. But sorting through a lifetime of unsorted photographs? That's genuine engagement.

Match activities to the person's history and what engages them emotionally. This requires knowing the person deeply—yet another reason that family involvement and information-sharing is so critical.

5. Modify the Environment

Even at home, small environmental changes can have outsized impacts:

6. Change One Word, One Approach

Small changes compound. Rather than a statement—"It's time for your shower"—ask a gentle question with choice: "Would you like to freshen up before dinner?" Rather than "You're going to the doctor," try "Let's drive over to see Dr. Jones today."

Change your tone. Remove exasperation or urgency. Approach care with patience and presence even when stressed.

For Solo Caregivers: Building Your Support System

Many family caregivers face this journey alone, exhausted and overwhelmed. The guilt, stress, and frustration are real—and they directly impact the quality of care you can provide. Caregiver stress itself becomes a trigger that escalates behavioral challenges.

Taking care of yourself isn't selfish; it's essential. Even 15 minutes of respite—a walk, meditation, time with a book, or connection with other caregivers—can restore your capacity for patience and presence.

Consider reaching out to:

Evaluating Care Facilities: What to Look For

For those selecting a memory care facility, look beyond marketing materials. Ask yourself: Would I want to live here?

When visiting a facility, observe:

Visit at different times of day and on weekends. Observe how staff respond to behavioral challenges and how residents interact with their environment.

The Transformation: From Managing to Living

When all these elements work together—environmental design, understanding behavior as communication, knowing the person deeply, and using targeted interventions—something shifts. The person with dementia isn't managed; they're empowered. They're not isolated; they belong. They're not merely safe; they're living.

The impact extends beyond the person with dementia. Family caregivers report less stress, less guilt, and greater meaning when they can shift from fighting the disease to facilitating a dignified life. Care facility staff experience less burnout when their work is relationship-centered rather than task-driven.

This isn't Pollyannaish optimism. It's a tested, evidence-based approach that's transforming how dementia care is delivered around the world. The model exists. The tools are available. What's required is a fundamental shift in how we think about dementia—from asking "How do we manage this?" to asking "How do we enable this person to live fully?"

That shift transforms not just the experience of the person with dementia, but the entire meaning of caregiving itself.

Learn More from the Presenters

Taming the Chaos of Dementia Institute
tamingthechaosofdementia.org

Barbara J. Huelat and Ruth Shea have published extensively on dementia care, design, and caregiving strategies. Visit their website for:

Additional Resources for Further Learning

Environmental Design & Care Models

Caregiver Support & Education

Finding & Evaluating Care

Practical Tools

Disease Education

When we think about discrimination in America, we often focus on racism, sexism, and other "-isms" that dominate public discourse. Yet one form of bias remains remarkably invisible—so normalized that most of us don't recognize it even when we perpetrate it: ageism.

During a recent livestream conversation hosted by the Positive Aging Community, gerontologist and Aging Life Care manager Rebecca Lippel challenged an audience to examine how ageism infiltrates nearly every corner of our daily lives—from the language we use to the products we buy to the way we treat older adults in our families and workplaces. What emerged was both eye-opening and unsettling: ageism isn't something we hide. We advertise it, we laugh at it, and we pass it down to our children without a second thought.

"I think after seeing so many blatant, incorrect perceptions of the aging process, it just fired me up," Lippel explained. "Unlike the other isms, sexism, racism, what have you, a lot of times the ageism issues are just, 'I didn't realize that. I didn't realize that those words were being discriminatory.'"

The Scope of the Problem

The context for this conversation is significant. By 2030, every Baby Boomer in America will be 65 or older. By 2040, there will be more than twice as many Americans 65 and older as there were in the year 2000. We are experiencing what researchers call a "silver tsunami"—a massive demographic shift that our society is largely unprepared for.

Meanwhile, the face of aging itself is transforming. Life expectancy in 2024 stands at approximately 79 years overall, with women averaging 84 and men 75. More dramatically, we're seeing unprecedented growth in the population of centenarians. People are living longer, more active, and more engaged lives than at any point in human history. Yet our cultural narratives about aging haven't caught up with this reality.

Language as a Gateway to Discrimination

The problem begins with language—one of the most insidious vectors for ageism. Lippel pointed to seemingly innocent words that carry weight. When we call older adults "cute" or "adorable," we're infantilizing them. "Puppies and babies are cute and adorable," she noted. "Older adults are dignified individuals who have lived their lives and do not need to be called these pet names."

Yet these terms are ubiquitous. Caregivers call residents "sweetie" and "baby." Family members smile approvingly when grandmother says something unfiltered, finding it hilarious that an older person would speak her mind—the same unfiltered honesty we accept from young children but would consider rude from someone in her forties.

The language question extends to terminology itself. Is someone "old," "elderly," "seasoned," or "mature"? The word "elderly" carries particular baggage, conjuring images of frailty and helplessness. "Geriatric" has become almost universally recognized as outdated and offensive. There's no consensus on acceptable terminology, yet the struggle to find it reveals something important: we're uncomfortable with aging, and our language reflects that discomfort.

More subtly, we pepper our speech with ageist qualifiers. When someone says, "My dad is 75 and he still goes swimming every day," the word "still" implies surprise that someone of his age retains normal capabilities. "Just say, 'My dad loves swimming,'" Lippel suggested. The word "still" shouldn't be necessary.

Stereotypes in Entertainment and Products

The pervasiveness of ageist stereotypes in entertainment and consumer products is startling once you start looking for it. In the beloved children's show Bluey, one episode features "Grouchy Granny," where viewers are meant to laugh at an elderly woman's poor driving skills. It's presented as harmless fun, yet young children internalize the message: older people aren't competent drivers.

The Golden Girls, often cited as a progressive show from the 1980s, inadvertently reveals how our perceptions of aging lag behind reality. Sophia was portrayed as 80 years old but was actually 62. Dorothy, played by Bea Arthur, was 63 playing someone considerably younger. The actresses looked "old" for their ages because our cultural expectations—then and now—encode youth and aging in ways disconnected from actual years.

More troubling are products explicitly marketed to celebrate ageist stereotypes. Amazon sells costumes for the "hundredth day of school" that reduce older age to caricature: purple hair, oversized glasses, high socks, drooping face. There's "Greedy Granny," a children's game where the protagonist is portrayed in a reclining chair wearing big blue glasses, and the "gameplay" involves filling her with cookies until she shoots forward with dentures flying out.

These products aren't anomalies. They're bestsellers—physical manifestations of stereotypes we accept so thoroughly that they've become merchandise. We've monetized our collective contempt for aging.

The Invisible Discrimination of "Benevolent" Ageism

One of Lippel's most insightful concepts was "benevolent ageism"—the patronizing form of prejudice where older adults are stereotyped as warm and kind but fundamentally incapable, frail, or needy. The crucial insight is that benevolent ageism is driven by positive intentions. We want to help.

This manifests as overprotectiveness. Adult children make major life decisions for aging parents without fully involving them in the conversation. A family tours a beautiful new assisted living community, marvels at the amenities, and says, "Mom, why are you miserable? It's gorgeous here." But did Mom get to participate in the decision-making? Or was it made for her, regardless of her preferences?

In medical settings, benevolent ageism takes the form of doctors speaking over patients to talk to their adult children or caregiver. A doctor asks the family member, "How is she feeling? Is he taking his medication?" rather than asking the patient directly. The older adult becomes invisible in their own healthcare conversation.

At family functions, older relatives are invited but not truly engaged. The assumption is that they can't hear well, won't follow the conversation, or might get confused. "Think about that," Lippel challenged. "You're excluding them from connection to avoid a potential problem that you're assuming exists."

The harm of benevolent ageism is that it erodes autonomy and dignity while masquerading as care. The motive is pure, but the result is diminishment.

Common Myths That Persist

Throughout the conversation, Lippel tackled persistent myths about aging that influence how we treat older adults. Depression and loneliness, we're told, are "normal" parts of aging. They're not. Alzheimer's disease and cognitive decline are inevitable outcomes of getting older. They're not. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. Definitively false.

Yet these myths shape policy, healthcare decisions, and how we allocate resources. A 70-year-old woman who decided to become a model was breaking a myth that doesn't actually exist—the myth that opportunity and vitality end at a certain age. Yet her accomplishment provoked surprise, suggesting the myth is deeply embedded in our collective consciousness.

Why Ageism Persists

Lippel identified several reasons ageism remains so pervasive. First, most people are undereducated about the aging process. Second, we fear aging—not just the experience of it, but what it represents. "We don't want to get old," she acknowledged. "We're getting closer to the dying process."

Third, our society reveres youth. Walk through the cosmetics aisle of any drugstore, and you'll see an explosion of products promising to erase wrinkles, lift skin, restore youthful appearance. These aren't neutral beauty products; they're anti-aging products. The language itself encodes a message: aging is something to fight, to resist, to overcome.

Fourth, we inherit stereotypes from previous generations. Parents teach children to fear and mock aging. Grandparents disparage their own appearance. This intergenerational transmission of ageism ensures that each generation inherits biases from the one before.

Finally, our own experiences color our perceptions. We may have had a difficult interaction with an older person and generalized from that single encounter. We may have internalized negative messages about aging from media and advertising. Our stereotypes, once formed, become self-perpetuating through confirmation bias.

The Power of Awareness

What makes this conversation hopeful is that ageism, unlike some other forms of discrimination, responds readily to awareness. Professionals who attend Lippel's presentations often report a moment of recognition: "That's me. I do that. I didn't realize I did that."

This awareness creates space for change. When someone hands you a card mocking aging, you can use that moment to start a conversation. When a doctor speaks over a patient, the patient or family member can gently redirect: "Doctor, I'd like to hear from my parent first." When you catch yourself saying someone "looks good for their age," you can pause and ask: what am I implying about what 70 should look like?

Lippel offered strategies for responding to ageist comments with humor and grace. When someone says, "You don't look your age," she suggests simply responding, "Well, neither do you." When someone assumes you need help crossing the street, a warm smile paired with "I've got it, thanks for looking out," acknowledges their kindness without accepting their assumption.

The key is recognizing that most ageism is unintentional. People aren't trying to be cruel. But they're operating from stereotypes they haven't examined, using language they haven't questioned, participating in systems that marginalize older adults without realizing it.

A Different Vision of Aging

What would change if we recognized that the true images of aging look nothing like our stereotypes? Dick Van Dyke, now over 100 and still working. Jennifer Lopez at 50, physically powerful and unapologetically herself—a far cry from the "Blanche" stereotype from a 1985 television show portraying what 50 looked like in that era.

The demographic wave is already here. The question is whether we'll meet it with outdated stereotypes or with recognition of the actual diversity, vitality, and complexity of older adults. Every 65th birthday, Lippel suggested, should come with an introduction to the Aging Life Care Association and the resources available. Aging is a universal process, not a subcategory of humanity to be mocked or diminished.

One participant in the discussion captured the spirit of what change requires: "I find myself giving into the comments, even contributing to them because it's where we are in society. This reminds me to push back and stand taller and prouder."

That's where it starts—with recognition, with pushback, with standing taller. With conversations like this one, conducted openly and honestly, where we examine not just how we talk about aging but how we think about it, how we market it, how we live it.

Until we do, ageism will remain the one "ism" we openly laugh about, the one we advertise in products, the one we pass down to our children. But it doesn't have to be that way. The first step is simply paying attention—to the language we use, the stereotypes we absorb, the assumptions we make.

We don't have to be stereotyped. And we don't have to perpetuate stereotypes. All it takes is the willingness to pause and think differently about aging. That's not just a gift to older adults. It's a gift to ourselves.

For information about finding an Aging Life Care professional in your area, visit aginglifecare.org. 

For many people, the thought of leaving a longtime family home can feel overwhelming. The memories embedded in its walls, the routines built around its spaces, the very identity tied to homeownership—these things run deep. But for Kathy Finigan, a retired Pentagon employee in her mid-70s, making the leap to independent senior living wasn't a reluctant concession to aging. It was a choice made with intention, research, and the kind of open-mindedness that's transformed her life in ways she never anticipated.

The Catalyst: A Mother's Needs

Kathy's journey toward this transition began not with her own needs, but with her mother's. A couple of years ago, when Kathy and her three sisters grew concerned about their aging mother still living alone in the family home in New Jersey—complete with stairs and the isolation of a house that no longer fit her lifestyle—the sisters decided to explore senior living options for her.

"It was very difficult to find something," Kathy recalls. "A lot of places are full, you had to get on waiting lists, that kind of thing."

That experience proved illuminating. If finding appropriate housing for an aging parent was this challenging, what would the landscape look like when Kathy and her husband needed to make their own decision? Rather than wait until necessity forced the issue, Kathy and her husband adopted a more proactive approach.

"I told my husband that we really need to be thinking about that now before we need to move," she explains. "That gives us more time to think about what's available."

The Search Begins

With a large house in the Northern Virginia area, multiple sets of stairs, and aging knees that were beginning to protest every climb, Kathy and her husband started exploring alternatives. They considered downsizing to a condominium. They even looked at golf communities in North Carolina. But their roots in the DC area ran deep: they had a son nearby, involvement with their church, volunteer work with the Smithsonian, and a life built around their local community.

As they researched independent senior living options, one detail caught Kathy's attention: The Trillium in Tysons Corner offered month-to-month leasing rather than the buy-in model common at many other communities.

"My husband, who is a financial management guy, said, 'I'd rather manage my own money,'" Kathy recalls. The rental model gave them flexibility and reduced financial risk—something particularly appealing when they weren't entirely sure what senior living in a high-rise urban setting would feel like after spending their lives on a quiet cul-de-sac.

They visited The Trillium in August 2024. "It's absolutely a stunning building," Kathy says. "And we decided why wait. We signed the contract and moved in in October."

The Downsizing Reality

One of the biggest potential hurdles—downsizing from a large, multi-story home—turned out to be far less daunting than Kathy expected. The key was hiring professionals who understood the emotional and practical dimensions of such a transition.

Working with Graceful Transitions, a senior move management company recommended by The Trillium, Kathy and her husband discovered that the process could actually be liberating.

"It was not as hard as I anticipated," Kathy says. "They help you move, they help you figure out what to bring with you. They even helped us put online auctions for a lot of our stuff that we weren't bringing with us."

But perhaps more surprising was the psychological shift. "My husband and I both found as we were starting to downsize that getting rid of stuff felt good," she notes. "It takes kind of a weight off of you. You don't have all these things."

A practical decision—not selling their original home for five months after moving—gave them additional flexibility to return and gather items they later realized they needed. By the time they sold the house, the downsizing was essentially complete, and they'd avoided the stress of managing both a moving timeline and a home sale simultaneously.

Expectations Versus Reality

Walking in on Day One, Kathy's primary expectations were straightforward: single-level living and access to activities. What she actually found exceeded her imagination.

"I really had no perspective on what to expect," she admits. The amenities at The Trillium astonished her. There are lectures, theater excursions, and a dining program that's transformed daily meals into something special. The community's executive chef was the executive chef at Blue Duck Tavern in DC when it was awarded a Michelin star, and the included meal plan—20 meals per month per resident—has made fine dining an everyday experience rather than a rare occasion.

"The food is amazing," Kathy says. "We hardly go out dining somewhere else anymore because we're fine dining every day."

But the most unexpected pleasure has been the sense of community itself. With roughly 200 residents, The Trillium is small enough to foster genuine connections—yet large enough to offer robust programs and amenities.

"We were touched and surprised by how welcoming the other residents are," Kathy shares. "We've become very good friends. We do things together a lot. And we just recently came home from a trip to walk into the dining room the first night after you get home and people come over to you and say, 'You're back. We're so glad to see you.' You don't get that when you're in your house."

The "Cruise Ship on Land"

This sense of belonging, combined with the array of services, activities, dining options, and amenities, prompted Kathy to coin a phrase for her new home: "a cruise ship on land."

"All the amenities that you get on a cruise ship is what we're getting here," she explains, "but it's our home."

And unlike a cruise ship, the destination never changes. Which, for a woman and her husband who love to travel, has turned out to be one of the biggest upsides of the move.

Freedom to Live

The absence of home maintenance responsibilities has opened up possibilities that were previously constrained. When they owned their large house, they had a 90-gallon saltwater fish tank requiring daily feeding, a lawn needing regular care, and countless projects demanding attention. Travel meant returning to a long to-do list.

Now, they lock their door, notify the concierge they'll be gone for three weeks, and when they return, the apartment is cleaned and their mail is waiting.

"It's easy living," Kathy says. "It's a wonderful way to be retired and do the things you want to do."

Peace of Mind for the Future

One factor that weighed heavily in Kathy and her husband's decision was The Trillium's multi-level care model. The community offers independent living, assisted living, and memory care—meaning as their needs evolve, they may be able to age in place without upheaval.

While a month-to-month rental doesn't come with the guarantee of lifetime care that some buy-in communities offer, Kathy has observed residents transitioning between levels of care smoothly during her two years there.

"We felt that was a good thing for us," she says. "Our family wouldn't have to worry about us. We wouldn't have to worry about each other. We would know that there would be some availability to take care of ourselves."

Advice for Others

For those wrestling with the idea of moving to a senior living community, Kathy's message is clear: don't procrastinate.

"One of the most important things is what I learned myself: Don't wait," she emphasizes. "If you're thinking about moving, start doing your research now and find a place. They're hard to find. A lot of people have to put deposits down and wait for a year or two years or three."

She also stresses the value of working with professionals. "You don't need to do this alone," she notes. "This profession, senior and specialty move managers, is absolutely amazing."

And perhaps most importantly, approach the transition with the same openness that Kathy brought to it. She didn't assume she'd hate urban living or that she'd miss cooking every night or that she'd feel isolated in a community of strangers. Instead, she gave herself permission to be surprised.

Two years later, she's thriving in ways she never predicted—and living proof that sometimes, the best decisions are the ones we make while we still have the luxury of time.

After 41 years in their Centreville home, Phil and Maggie Massey made a decision that many of us put off until we have to: they chose to move to independent living—on their own terms, with professional support, and with a plan.

In this episode, Steve Gurney sits down with Phil and Maggie to explore what prompted their transition, how they downsized from 3,000 to 1,400 square feet, and what surprised them most about life in community. But the story doesn't end there.

After retiring from the daily show in 2021, Kojo Nnamdi thought he would finally write his memoir in peace. Instead, station management offered him a part-time role hosting the weekly Politics Hour. That semi-retired structure turned out to be a gift. “I now describe myself as semi-retired,” he said. “It gave me a place to go every day… and that helps a lot.” He contrasted his experience with his father’s retirement in Guyana, which led to inactivity, a stroke, and an early death. “I learned a significant lesson… about what not to do in retirement.”

Listeners meet:

• Mary Kay Fleming (interviewed before her passing), who described aging as a “crisis” of shrinking social circles and changing bodies — then showed how contributing to the world and finding what makes you feel alive can transform it.

Nnamdi emphasized a common thread: vulnerability. None of the guests positioned themselves as instant experts. “They were all very vulnerable in the mistakes that they made and how they accidentally stumbled into something that gave them purpose, passion, and connected them to community,” Gurney noted.

The conversation repeatedly returned to three big ideas that resonate deeply with anyone navigating life after 50 or 60:

He also praised WAMU’s old "In Your Community” events, where listeners from vastly different neighborhoods discovered they faced the same concerns. “They brought out commonalities that people have.”

Young at Heart is available on WAMU.org, NPR, and major podcast platforms. New episodes are in the works.

Want to share your own reinvention story? Visit the official form at wamu.org/young-at-heart As Nnamdi and Kaufman prove, the best stories often come from ordinary people who simply decided to try something new.

In closing, Nnamdi quoted the old saying with a smile: “It ain’t over till it’s over.” Whether you’re sketching shoes on the side, ushering at hockey games, swimming under bridges, or simply showing up curious every day, the message is clear: retirement isn’t an ending — it’s an invitation to a new beginning.

Tune in. Submit your story. And remember — your next chapter might just be the best one yet.

Listen now: wamu.org/show/young-at-heart Share your story: wamu.org/young-at-heart-share

Ever feel overwhelmed by bills, paperwork, and financial records? In this eye-opening discussion, host Steve Gurney of Positive Aging sits down with three experienced Daily Money Managers (DMMs) — Sharon Zissman, Paul Orsinger, and Ed Jackson — to explain exactly what this profession is, who it serves, and why it's becoming an essential part of smart aging planning.In this conversation, you'll learn:What Daily Money Managers do (bill paying, budgeting, medical claims, fraud prevention, and more)How DMMs differ from financial advisors, CPAs, and elder law attorneysWho typically hires a DMM — seniors, busy professionals, sandwich generation families, and solo agersHow DMMs help protect clients from scams and financial fraudWhat to look for when hiring a DMM, and how to find one near youHow the American Association of Daily Money Managers (AADMM) certifies and vets its membersTypical hourly rates ($75–$150/hr) and how the engagement worksWhether you're planning ahead, supporting an aging parent from a distance, or simply ready to hand off the paperwork chaos — this conversation is a must-watch.🔗 Find a certified Daily Money Manager near you: aadmm.com🌐 More resources at: proaging.comPresented in partnership with the Senior Service Alliance.

In a candid and deeply moving webinar hosted by the Positive Aging Community, Daniel Zimberoff shared the intimate story behind his memoir Wingman. A former U.S. Navy Top Gun pilot, Zimberoff never expected to write a book—until his father, facing the relentless progression of Parkinson’s disease, turned to him on the eve of his medically assisted death in Switzerland and said, “Danny, tell the story. You’re in charge of the story. Give others the opportunity I had.” Wingman: Escorting My Father To A Death With Dignity

That request became the catalyst for a memoir that is equal parts love letter, travelogue, and urgent call for open conversations about end-of-life choice.

A Decade-Long Battle with Parkinson’s

Zimberoff’s father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s approximately 12 years before his death at age 87. A lifelong athlete and avid tennis player, he first noticed the loss of dexterity and dismissed it as “just old age.” As symptoms worsened—tremors, sleep disruption, cognitive changes, and eventually reliance on a walker—the disease eroded the vibrant life he had known.

He had long expressed a core fear: “I don’t fear death. I fear dying.” He did not want to burden his three children with watching him suffer, nor did he want to endure a life stripped of joy and independence. Roughly 10 years after diagnosis, when the disease began to profoundly affect both body and personality, he quietly began the rigorous process of arranging a medically assisted death through a Swiss organization called Pegasus.

“He had already done all the legwork,” Zimberoff recalled. “He was a very independent person—an attorney and accountant—and when he made a decision, it was made.”

The Emotional Rollercoaster of Family Support

The family’s journey was far from linear. Zimberoff and his sisters experienced waves of acceptance, resistance, grief, and love. There were moments Zimberoff wanted simply to be a “loving, dutiful son,” and others when he wished his father would “fight more.” Two days before the end, his father shakily wrote, “I love life,” acknowledging grandchildren and family while affirming that his suffering had become unbearable.

The title Wingman draws directly from Zimberoff’s military experience. In aviation, the wingman is the pilot who flies alongside the flight lead into unknown and sometimes hostile territory, from takeoff to touchdown. Zimberoff became that wingman—accompanying his father from Chicago to Switzerland, staying through the final evaluations, and holding him in the final moments.

The Final Journey to Switzerland

Once the date was set, everything accelerated. With only seven days’ notice at the height of Europe’s summer travel season, Zimberoff coordinated flights, wheelchair assistance, hotel arrangements, and last-minute logistics while his sister flew in from Italy. In Switzerland, two days of medical and psychiatric evaluations preceded the chosen day.

The process itself was described as seamless and profoundly peaceful. The method used an intravenous medication similar to what is administered before surgery—only in a higher dose. “You just go to sleep, and then it stops your heart in a couple of minutes,” Zimberoff explained. His father died in the arms of his son, daughter, and son-in-law.

“It was incredibly peaceful,” he said. “He died in peace and love.”

Broader Conversation: Options, Autonomy, and Breaking the Taboo

Michelle Witte, Executive Director of Final Exit Network, joined the discussion and provided important context. In the United States, medical aid in dying (MAID) is legal in 14 jurisdictions (including the District of Columbia), but strict criteria apply—typically a terminal prognosis of six months or less and self-administration of the medication. Only about 12,000–13,000 people have used it over 30 years, roughly one per day.

In this inspiring episode of the Positive Aging Community podcast, co-hosts Steve Gurney and Margaret Foster, editor of The Beacon Newspapers, sit down with author Marilyn Raichle to discuss her book "Don't Walk Away: A Care Partner's Journey". They dive into Marilyn's heartfelt story of transforming from a reluctant caregiver to a joyful care partner for her mother, Jean, who lived with dementia until age 96.

Key Highlights:The Journey Begins (0:00-5:00): Marilyn shares her Seattle roots and her mother's stark advice: "When we get Alzheimer's, walk away." But after her father's passing, a moment of humor sparked a deeper connection, shifting Marilyn from "caregiver" to "care partner"—focusing on building a shared, fulfilling life rather than just providing help.The Power of Art and Community (5:00-15:00): Discover how a simple painting class at Jean's continuing care facility unlocked astonishing creativity. Marilyn founded "The Art of Alzheimer's" to showcase her mom's vibrant works, challenging stereotypes: "Alzheimer's is scary, art isn't." She integrated into the community, gaining "six new moms" and finding relaxation and joy in visits filled with laughter and Scrabble games.Lessons in Humanity and Growth (15:00-25:00): Marilyn offers wisdom for caregivers: Start with 5 minutes of shared joy, listen without needing to "win," and recognize that people with dementia are still fully human—needing purpose, friends, and love. Her experience made her a "happier person," teaching emotional openness despite her Scottish Calvinist upbringing.Looking Ahead (25:00-End): Marilyn now works with Maude's Awards, granting $100,000 annually for Alzheimer's innovations (applications open March 13th—organizations, individuals, for-profits, or nonprofits welcome!). She hopes her book shifts societal views, showing dementia as a life worth living.This episode flips the script on caregiving burdens, emphasizing hope, humor, and humanity. As Marilyn says, "If they're 'gone,' who's there? It's somebody well worth getting to know."Get Involved:Buy the Book: Grab Don't Walk Away on Amazon or visit the official site. https://dontwalkaway.net/Maude's Awards: Learn more and apply at maudesawards.org.#PositiveAging #CaregivingJourney #DementiaCare

In a world where nearly 28% of older adults in the U.S. identify as solo agers—those aging independently by choice or circumstance—a groundbreaking program is helping participants redefine their futures. Hosted by Steve Gurney of the Positive Aging Community, a recent online panel featured Claire Solomon Nisen, a social worker and program manager at DOROT, and Pat Estess, a facilitator and solo ager herself. The discussion spotlighted "Aging Alone Together," a free, six-week initiative designed to equip older adults with tools for intentional aging, while fostering connections that combat loneliness.

DOROT, a New York-based organization founded in 1976 by social work students to support isolated seniors, draws its name from the Hebrew word for "generations." As Nisen explained, intergenerational connection is at its core, though the nonprofit serves a diverse community beyond Jewish traditions. "We promote social connection, friendship, and community," she said, noting that all programs are offered at no cost, thanks to donors and partners.

The term "solo aging," coined by Sara Zeff Geber, refers to those who expect to make decisions about their future independently—whether due to no children, estranged family, divorce, or other reasons. According to census data shared by Nisen, 22.1 million Americans over 65 fall into this category, a number growing amid declining birth rates and rising divorces. Solo agers face unique challenges, from healthcare planning to a lack of caregivers, but Nisen emphasized empowerment: "Our constituents are the experts of their own experiences."

Launched in June 2021 as "Aging Solo" in collaboration with Iona Senior Services in Washington, D.C., the program quickly drew over 80 participants weekly, revealing a deep need. Renamed "Aging Alone Together" and revamped in August 2024 with input from gerontology experts and over 200 alumni, it has now served more than 1,500 people across 36 cohorts. Partnerships include LGBTQ+ organizations, faith-based groups, and the National Village to Village Network.

The curriculum unfolds over six sessions, blending presentations, videos, polls, and small-group discussions. Topics include:

Three mantras guide participants: "Solo aging doesn't mean aging alone," "Choose to start now," and "Take small steps." As Estess, who facilitates sessions, noted, "Pat yourself on the back—perhaps have some ice cream—for beginning this work." Sessions last 90 minutes online or two hours in person, with trained leaders facilitating breakout groups of six to eight. A national resource guide and workbook provide tools, from nonprofits to government agencies, without endorsing specific practitioners.