The word "ghetto" conjures up lots of negative pictures, doesn't it? The primary definition in the dictionary refers to the Jews being forced to live in a segregated area, in some cases, a walled area of a city. In America, we may think of the ghetto as a slum, sometimes referring to blacks trapped in poverty.
The elderly, no matter what their color, need to be aware that we, too, can ghettoize ourselves. It's a choice for us. It's been said that aging is about loss. Loss of youth, beauty, and energy to start with. Then, our hearing and vision starts to go. Depending on how careful we were with oral hygiene, we may start to lose our teeth. If you've been as addicted to food as I have, you certainly lose your figure-if you had one to start with, which I never believed I did. Health starts to deteriorate. Mental acuity slips, making the crossword puzzle a little more difficult and the computer impossible. Reflexes slow. Driving becomes more hazardous and insurance rates skyrocket. Those dreams of owning land outside the city where you could garden and get lots of fresh air are dashed because it's too far from the doctor, the church, and the grocery store. Staying closer to facilities seems the best thing to do.
Then, too, the news is so frightening for some elderly people. I remember my mother's fears of break-ins and assaults because that seemed to be about the only thing she noticed when she watched the daily news broadcasts. I didn't understand it then, but I do now. She didn't have drive-bys to contend with, or cop shootings, or riots, things that have become commonplace in America today.
Politics gets scarier by the day. The ruling class of politicians and their assistants, the media, make decisions about our every day lives we know nothing about. And so, we stick a little closer to home, hoping to stay below the radar.
Differences in religious beliefs have been around for thousands of years, but lately, it seems as though the differences are no longer discussed. If discussed, it may end in screaming at one another. Or it may end in violence. Stick to the church you've always gone to. Unless there, too, someone gets testy and makes you uncomfortable. Then, it's watching the TV evangelists minus the personal interaction with other believers.
Once the children are gone from the home, moving to any place makes it really hard to make friends. At least, that's what I found when our sons no longer brought kids home that enabled family interaction. Young people don't even think about possible consequences of approaching someone they don't know and making a friend. We lose that innocence with age and we stick with long time friends and relatives. They're safe.
The house gets too big, the winters get too cold, the taxes get too high, so we downsize. To a condo, a 55 and over community, a place where people are the same age and like the same things. Ghettoized by choice. It was one of the reasons I was hesitant to move back to Shiloh. Everything is here that is needed for daily life. At Shiloh, we are in spiritual agreement. There is meaningful work for us to do among people who appreciate our efforts. There is frequent socialization with people who think like we do. Facilities, such as the doctor, hospital, drugstores, and grocery stores are .5 miles to 5 miles away.
Change becomes anathema to us. We like our routine and the world is rushing right by us, not even bothering to check us out. Even worse, friends and family we hold dear are leaving. I've recently lost one friend to cancer, may lose one or two the near future. The condo where we used to live has lost many and the church has lost ten since last Christmas. Chilling isn't it?
Saturday, I stepped out of my comfort zone and chipped away at that wall I've built around my life. Those building blocks go up so easily and come down with difficulty. The United Methodist Church has a monthly flea market for several months during snowbird season. The first one was last Saturday. What a pleasure it was to meet new people who were happy and had new things to discuss. Making new friends, reducing the stress of every day humdrum activities, being affirmed by people I'd not met until last Saturday was encouraging. It gave me the opportunity to reach out and be a blessing to others. I like that.
There may come a point when it won't be financially worth my while because people who go to these markets won't buy the same book every month. They'll buy jewelry each month, or food, or knickknacks, but not the book. However, just getting to be around people I'll only see 5 or 6 times a year will still be worth it. Yeah, I'm going to do it again next month. I want to stay out of the ghetto.
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