What are you supposed to call old people? It is a question both serious and laughable. I recently watched a 78-year-old wince at being called elderly and later break into a wide grin when handing the cashier his senior-discount coupon.
There’s an inherent danger in talking about old age. Words have the power to shove people into pigeonholes they don’t want to be in, ruffling their feathers and bending them out of shape.
My fear is that we are so uncertain about how to talk about old age that we just don’t talk about it much at all. But if the church is going to embrace the challenges and blessings of a graying population, we must find ways to dialogue without the fear of offending others. Words have limitations, but we’ve got to start somewhere.
First, there’s senior. It suggests a step up from junior, evoking thoughts of high school graduation and corporate executives with corner offices. But it is also a too-broad term that includes anyone whose age roughly falls between the half-century and century mark or beyond.
In the real world, “senior” is inconsistent. AARP membership begins at 50, but 65 is the magic age for senior discounts on many airlines. Some major hotel chains give seniors a discount at 62, while fast-food restaurants give a price break at age 55. No wonder we are confused.
Old seems a no-nonsense, straightforward word choice, inferring “not young.” But in our youth-oriented culture, “old” can be a tough pill to swallow. It conjures up stereotypical images of tacky over-the-hill birthday cards and potbellied geezers.
A hybrid term, older adults, is the preferred choice for many involved in eldercare ministries. It has a pleasant sound, but begs the question, “Older than what?”
The “older adult” category includes a variety of gray, bald and dyed heads. Some run marathons and take tango lessons while others grip walkers and creep along with unsteady steps.
Occasionally you’ll read oldest old, a term that always makes me smile. It’s sort of like winning a contest for outliving a lot of family and friends.
Aged brings to mind prime beef, cheese and fine wine. I suppose it’s a good idea to include people among things that are supposed to get better with years. Some people prefer to be called mature, another amiable term. But then, who among us wants to be recognized for being immature?
Elderly is often associated with frailty or infirmity. It’s a word that makes folks squirm, though, perhaps because it speaks unvarnished truths about limited mobility and declining health. In the blink of an eye, a crisis can change a person from an active older adult to frail elderly.
When I recently posed the question “What would you prefer to be called?” to a table of eight seniors, ranging in age from 74 to 98, I was amused by their candid reactions.
“We’re older than dirt! What do we care if people call us old?” said one woman, prompting a roar of laughter from her peers.
Most seniors I know wear their age as a badge of honor, especially when a milestone birthday approaches.
And I realized how they use humor to soften the rough edges of growing old. It seemed the older they are, the less they care about labels.
The takeaway message, I believe, is that we need to talk about older-adult issues, even when our language gets in the way.
Words do matter. But let’s not get so obsessed with words that we forget to talk.
Ms. Buchanan, a member of FUMC, Rockwall, Texas, is the author of Living With Purpose in a Worn Out Body (Upper Room Books), due out in 2008.
Missy Buchanan
