From Conversation to Culture Change: How Intergenerational Work Transforms Communities

It started, as many good things do, with a simple invitation.

The city was preparing to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the May Day Festival, a tradition rooted deeply in our town’s identity. Generations had grown up with it, children weaving ribbons around the Maypole, parents lining the streets, grandparents telling stories of how it used to be “back when.” This time, the organizers wanted something more than a reenactment. They wanted the celebration to mean something.

Someone asked a question that doesn’t get asked often enough: What if seniors were part of this, not just watching, but helping shape it?

When the idea was brought to the seniors’ board, there was a pause. Not because of hesitation, but because people understood the weight of the invitation. This wasn’t about nostalgia. This was about partnership. About trust. About standing shoulder to shoulder with a younger generation and saying, “Let’s build this together.”

The plan that emerged was bold in its simplicity. Twenty-four seniors would join Grade 5 students from three local schools to dance the Maypole together. Not perform for each other. Perform with each other. Organizers in their twenties, thirties, and forties would coordinate logistics alongside volunteers in their seventies and eighties. Everyone would have a role. No one would be a token.

What followed was something quietly powerful.

In school gyms and community halls, seniors learned steps alongside children young enough to be their great-grandchildren. There were missteps and laughter, ribbons tangled and untangled, stories exchanged between practice runs. A senior showed a child how to recover gracefully from a missed step. A child showed a senior a shortcut for remembering the pattern. No one was “helping” anyone. They were learning together.

This is where ageism begins to lose its grip.

So much discrimination thrives on distance, on the idea that “older” and “younger” are separate worlds with little to offer each other. Intergenerational work collapses that distance. It replaces assumptions with familiarity. It turns abstract respect into shared experience.

On the day of the festival, the four Maypoles stood tall in the centre of the arena, ribbons bright against the spring sky. As the music began, seniors and students moved together, weaving colour and rhythm into something unmistakably joyful. The crowd didn’t see “old” and “young.” They saw a community in motion.

And then something unexpected happened.

The seniors were invited back the following year, not as a novelty, but as tradition. They were asked to help kick off the next hundred years of May Day celebrations.

That’s culture change.

Intergenerational work doesn’t just soften attitudes; it reshapes systems. When young organizers see older adults as collaborators, it changes who gets invited to the table. When children grow up working alongside seniors, it rewrites what aging looks like in their minds. When seniors are trusted with visible, meaningful roles, it challenges the quiet narrative that usefulness has an expiry date.

Importantly, this work succeeds only when it’s grounded in equality. Not mentorship that flows one way. Not “keeping seniors busy.” True intergenerational projects are built on mutual respect and shared power. Each generation brings something essential: energy, perspective, memory, creativity, and steadiness. When one is missing, the whole structure weakens.

The beauty is that action doesn’t have to be grand to be transformative.

A community garden planned by teens and tended by retirees. A storytelling project where students record elders’ histories, and elders learn new technology in return. A neighbourhood safety initiative where older residents’ lived knowledge complements younger residents’ organizing skills. These are not expensive solutions. They are human ones.

Ageism thrives in isolation. It withers in connection.

The May Day dance mattered not because it was perfect, but because it was shared. It reminded everyone watching and participating that communities are strongest when all ages are visible, valued, and involved in shaping the future.

Conversation is where change begins. Culture shifts when we move from talking about each other to working with each other.

Sometimes, all it takes is an invitation and the courage to say yes.

Seeing the Longevity Dividend: From Burden to Shared Asset

Every conversation about aging eventually seems to circle back to the same question: Can we afford it?

An aging population is often framed as a looming burden on healthcare, on housing, on public services. The language is heavy with concern and cost. What rarely makes it into the conversation is a different way of seeing things: not as a problem to manage, but as a resource to value.

This is where the idea of the Longevity Dividend comes in. It invites us to ask a better question: What becomes possible when people live longer, fuller lives, and are included rather than sidelined?

I saw a living answer to that question at the Tri-City Seniors’ annual Christmas gathering.

The room was warm, crowded, and alive with conversation. People gathered around tables, cups of coffee in hand, sharing stories that moved easily between past and present. Someone talked about Christmas mornings growing up. Another remembered the sound of boots on frozen sidewalks and the sting of cold air on bare cheeks.

One story kept resurfacing, spoken with a particular kind of fondness, the wooden crates of Japanese oranges.

For many, those oranges were the unmistakable sign that Christmas had arrived. They were rare, precious, and shared carefully. A small luxury that marked the season and stayed in memory long after the holidays passed.

As the stories flowed, something else became clear. These weren’t just recollections. They were threads of lived history, of immigration, resilience, community, and change. Knowledge carried, not in textbooks, but in voices, laughter, and shared recognition.

Then the conversation shifted.

Today, one of the signs of the Christmas season isn’t oranges in wooden crates. It’s the growing need at the food bank.

Without fanfare, the group had acted. The seniors collected 134 pounds of food and over $300 in cash donations for the local food bank. It wasn’t a symbolic gesture. It was practical, immediate care.

Many of these same people remembered walking to school every day, regardless of snow or rain, in towns across British Columbia and Canada. They remembered winters that were cold but predictable. And almost all of them shared the same reflection: no matter the weather, they didn’t worry about whether there would be food on the table.

That memory matters.

It connects past stability with present concern. It fuels a sense of responsibility, not out of guilt, but out of gratitude. These seniors weren’t acting because they were asked to. They were acting because they care deeply about the community they helped build and the future being shaped by the next generation.

This is the Longevity Dividend in action.

When older adults are fully included, they bring more than time or availability. They bring perspective. They bring continuity. They bring a long view that connects what was, what is, and what could be.

Too often, we frame seniors as recipients of care, of services, of support. And yes, support matters. But that frame is incomplete. It misses the daily acts of leadership, creativity, volunteering, caregiving, and quiet generosity that sustain communities.

The Longevity Dividend isn’t just economic. It’s social. It shows up in mentorship, in civic engagement, in the passing on of traditions, and in the willingness to notice when something isn’t right and do something about it.

What made that Christmas gathering powerful wasn’t nostalgia. It was relevance. These seniors weren’t living in the past. They were using the past to inform present action.

When generations come together around shared values, care, fairness, responsibility, the benefits flow both ways. Younger people gain context and grounding. Older people remain connected and purposeful. Communities become more resilient because knowledge and care aren’t siloed by age.

Reframing aging doesn’t mean ignoring challenges. It means refusing to define people solely by what they might need. It means recognizing what they already give, and what becomes possible when we invite them fully into the story.

At that Christmas gathering, the Longevity Dividend didn’t appear as a policy or a statistic. It showed up as food on a scale, cash in an envelope, and hope quietly passed from one generation to the next.

And that kind of dividend keeps paying forward.

Home, Safety, and Dignity: Ageism Where We Live

When her husband died after 35 years of marriage, the house went quiet in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

At first, there were visits. Condolences. Offers of help that felt sincere but short-lived. Then, gradually, the visits stopped. His children came around less and less. One son began speaking to her differently, questioning her decisions, criticizing how she handled things, and demanding items he believed should belong to him.

The grandchildren followed his lead. Calls went unanswered. Invitations stopped coming. Without a formal break or confrontation, she found herself erased from a family she had been part of for decades.

Grief has a way of hollowing out space, but this was something else. This was loss layered on loss.

The house she and her husband had just bought,  meant to be the next chapter, became filled with echoes. His chair. Their routines. The plans they never got to live. She stayed for as long as she could, but eventually she said something that stuck with me: “If I stay here, I’ll stop moving forward.”

So, she made the decision to leave.

What should have been a practical step became an obstacle course.

She was a widow on a low income, looking for a place that was safe, affordable, and close enough to services to allow her to remain independent. The listings were scarce. The waiting lists are long. Some landlords didn’t return her calls. Others asked questions that felt less like screening and more like doubt.

How old are you?
Do you live alone?
What’s your income source?

None of these questions is illegal on its own. Together, they form a quiet gatekeeping system that filters out people deemed “risky,” “temporary,” or “too complicated.”

This is how ageism shows up in housing, not as outright refusal, but as narrowing options until people are left choosing between unsafe, unaffordable, or isolating alternatives.

For older adults, housing isn’t just about shelter. It’s about safety, dignity, and connection. When those are compromised, everything else becomes harder. Managing health. Staying socially engaged. Asking for help without feeling like a burden.

For this woman, ageism didn’t arrive alone. It arrived hand in hand with income insecurity, grief, and isolation. Each amplified the other. Systems that might have offered protection felt distant and fragmented. Abuse within the family was subtle enough to be dismissed, but sharp enough to wound deeply.

Elder abuse doesn’t always leave visible marks. Sometimes it looks like pressure. Entitlement. Disrespect masked as concern. When ageism is present, reports of mistreatment are more easily minimized. “Family conflict.” “Misunderstandings.” “She’s emotional, she’s grieving.”

And so, vulnerability becomes invisible.

Housing instability among seniors is rising, and homelessness is no longer confined to younger populations. Older adults are showing up in shelters, couch-surfing with friends, or staying in unsafe situations because the alternative feels worse. Many never appear in statistics because they disappear quietly.

What makes this especially painful is that these are not failures of individuals. They are failures of design.

Our housing systems were not built with aging in mind. They assume stable income, family support, and physical resilience. When any of those slip away, the system offers very little grace.

And yet, even in these gaps, there are moments of resilience.

Eventually, she found a place. Not perfect. Smaller than she had imagined. But hers. A place where she could breathe again. Where she could rebuild routines without walking through memories that pulled her backward.

What she lost can’t be replaced. But what she regained was agency.

Stories like hers remind us that ageism isn’t only about attitudes. It’s about access. Who gets believed? Who gets protected? Who gets options?

When we talk about aging in place, we have to ask: place for whom? When we talk about safety, we must include emotional and financial safety, not just physical walls and locks.

Ageism becomes most dangerous when it intersects with loss, poverty, and isolation, when people slip between systems that were never designed to see them clearly.

Dignity in later life should not depend on luck, resilience, or silence. It should be built into the way we design housing, respond to abuse, and support those navigating life’s hardest transitions alone.

If we want communities where people can age without fear, we have to look closely at where people like her almost disappear, and decide, collectively, that disappearing is no longer acceptable.

“Not a Good Fit”: Ageism at Work and the Myth of the Ideal Employee

 It often starts with a phrase that sounds harmless enough.

“Not a good fit.”
“Looking for new energy.”
“Time to bring in fresh ideas.”

These words rarely appear in policy manuals, but they echo through workplaces every day. They’re heard in job postings, performance reviews, and hallway conversations. And for many older workers, they signal the beginning of a slow, quiet exit.

In today’s workplaces, ageism rarely announces itself openly. Instead, it shows up through practices sometimes called quiet firing or silent layoffs, strategies which nudge older employees toward resignation without the organization having to say the uncomfortable part out loud.

Sam knows this pattern well.

For years, Sam had been a model employee. Strong evaluations. Reliable performance. Deep knowledge of the organization and its people. Then, in his late fifties, something shifted. His annual review was mostly positive, but this time it included several pointed criticisms about “choices” he was making. Nothing dramatic. Nothing specific enough to respond to easily.

The message wasn’t written down, but it was clear: do better, or else.

After years of positive feedback, the possibility of being placed on a Performance Improvement Plan suddenly hovered in the background. These plans are often framed as supportive, but many older workers recognize them for what they can become: unrealistic expectations, vague goals, and insufficient support, designed less to improve performance and more to create a paper trail.

Sam hadn’t changed. The workplace had.

Then there’s Terry.

Terry works in a competitive industry that prides itself on innovation and continuous learning. On paper, the company does everything right. Training opportunities are encouraged. Professional development is funded. Staying current is valued.

But Terry noticed something over time. She was being overlooked.

Younger colleagues with less experience were offered training, mentorship, and advancement opportunities. Terry, despite her track record and institutional knowledge, was quietly bypassed. No one told her she wasn’t eligible. She simply wasn’t considered.

This kind of exclusion is subtle, but its impact is profound. When development opportunities flow toward youth by default, experience is treated as a finished product rather than an evolving asset.

I saw echoes of this when I was still working. I heard younger managers talk about the need for “new blood” and “fresh ideas.” I was asked more than once about my retirement plans, often framed as casual curiosity rather than pressure.

I didn’t ignore those comments. I responded.

I pointed out the contributions older workers were making every day. I reminded them that when experienced employees leave, they don’t just take a job opening with them; they take relationships, context, and collective memory. They take lessons learned the hard way. They take the ability to see patterns others haven’t lived long enough to recognize.

This is where the concept of crystallized intelligence matters.

Crystallized intelligence refers to the knowledge, skills, and judgment accumulated over time. It includes emotional regulation, problem-solving in complex situations, and the ability to navigate organizational dynamics with nuance. It’s not a consolation prize for declining speed. It’s a competitive advantage.

Yet many organizations undervalue it because it doesn’t fit the myth of the ideal employee, fast, endlessly adaptable, and unburdened by history. In chasing that myth, workplaces lose balance. Teams become reactive rather than thoughtful. Mistakes repeat. Mentorship disappears.

Ageism at work harms individuals, but it also damages organizations. Quiet firing erodes trust. Overlooking experienced workers weakens succession planning. And pushing people out prematurely creates instability that no amount of “fresh ideas” can fix.

The tragedy is that most of this happens without open conversation. Older workers are left to interpret signals, manage anxiety, and decide whether to fight or leave. Many choose to go quietly, convinced it’s better than being labeled resistant or obsolete.

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

Workplaces that thrive across generations recognize that learning flows both directions. They invest in development at every stage of a career. They value experience not as a relic, but as a resource. They ask older workers what they want next instead of assuming they’re winding down.

Ageism at work isn’t always about forcing people out. Often, it’s about failing to imagine them staying in meaningful ways.

And when organizations do that, everyone loses, not just the people shown the door, but the culture left behind when experience walks out with it.

Missed Signals and Missed Care: Ageism Inside the Health System

In Canada, it has become almost routine to begin any conversation about healthcare with the same phrase: the system is in crisis. Emergency rooms are crowded. Family doctors are hard to find. Nurses and physicians are stretched thin. Everyone knows someone who has waited too long or felt rushed through an appointment.

That reality is undeniable. But it has also created a dangerous permission slip, one that allows poor treatment of seniors, minorities, and other vulnerable people to be excused rather than questioned. Being overwhelmed should never mean being dismissive. Yet for many older adults, that is exactly how care feels.

I experienced this firsthand after having my knee replaced.

The surgery itself went well, but shortly afterward, I fell and was given medication for pain. I had a bad reaction to the drug. Concerned, I was moved to another hospital where staff could keep a closer eye on me. Warnings were passed along. My wife was clear about what had happened and for what to watch.

Still, while I was in a drug-induced delirium, I fell again.

The warning signs were there. The information had been shared. But it wasn’t fully heard. Whether it was time pressure, assumptions about aging, or a belief that confusion was simply “normal at my age,” the result was the same. Dismissal led to harm.

This is how ageism operates inside systems, not through cruelty, but through assumptions. Older patients are often seen as fragile, confused, or inevitably declining. Symptoms are brushed off as part of aging rather than signals requiring attention. Pain is normalized. Confusion is expected. Complexity is simplified away.

Sometimes this leads to under-treatment. Symptoms are minimized. Diagnostic testing is delayed or never ordered. Opportunities for early intervention are missed.

Other times it leads to over-treatment. Psychotropic medications are prescribed too quickly. Sedation becomes a shortcut. Behaviour is managed chemically rather than understood contextually. Especially in long-term care, this can strip people of clarity, mobility, and independence.

A friend of mine has lived with chronic pain for more than seven years. She has seen multiple doctors, told her story countless times, and left more than one appointment feeling unheard. Eventually, she found a physician who did something remarkably simple: listened.

This doctor took her pain seriously. Ordered tests. Asked follow-up questions. Acknowledged uncertainty rather than dismissing it. For the first time in years, my friend feels there may be a path forward.

She told me something that has stayed with me. “Some of them didn’t hear my story,” she said. “They only saw a woman of a certain age.”

That sentence captures the quiet harm of medical ageism perfectly.

When clinicians see age before a person, they stop listening fully. When they assume decline, they stop investigating. And when people sense they aren’t being heard, they begin to doubt themselves. They downplay symptoms. They stop advocating. They accept discomfort as inevitable.

This doesn’t only affect health outcomes. It affects trust.

And yet, this is not a story about villains and victims. Many healthcare professionals are deeply committed, compassionate, and frustrated by the same system their patients struggle with. I’ve seen nurses who insist on slowing down, doctors who ask one more question, therapists who treat older patients as partners rather than problems to manage.

These are the bright spots, and they matter.

What distinguishes them isn’t extra time or special resources. It’s a mindset. A refusal to let age become a diagnostic shortcut. A willingness to stay curious. A belief that older adults are reliable narrators of their own experience.

Systems can reinforce ageism, but they can also interrupt it. When hospitals build processes that encourage shared decision-making, when staff are trained to recognize unconscious bias, and when older patients and caregivers are treated as credible sources of information, care improves. Not just emotionally, but clinically.

The healthcare system may be under strain, but that strain does not absolve us of responsibility. Especially when the cost of assumption is injury, prolonged pain, or loss of dignity.

If there is hope in this moment, it lies in noticing where listening breaks down, and where it holds.

Every time an older adult is heard fully, a different story unfolds. One where age does not obscure symptoms, and experience is not mistaken for confusion. One where care is shaped by evidence, empathy, and respect.

The healthcare crisis is real. But so is the opportunity to decide who gets seen clearly within it.

Words That Wound: Language, Labels, and the Power of “Elder Speak”

The doctor’s office was quiet in that familiar way, paper rustling, keyboards tapping, a muffled cough from behind a closed door. I was mid-sentence, trying to explain something that mattered to me, when I paused. I could feel the right words hovering just out of reach.

Before I could gather them, the person across from me stepped in and finished my thought.

They meant to help. I know that. And I didn’t correct them. I nodded, let the moment pass, and moved on. But something about it stayed with me, because it wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last.

As I’ve gotten older, I sometimes take a little longer to find the exact words I want. Writing is easier for me; I can rearrange, rethink, and refine. Speaking is different. It happens in real time. There are pauses. Small searches. Moments of silence that feel longer than they are.

Those pauses often invite interruption.

What’s interesting is that when I was younger, I did the same thing. I finished people’s sentences. I jumped in when someone hesitated. At the time, it felt efficient, even supportive. I didn’t see it as a problem until life offered me a lesson I never forgot.

When my wife suffered a brain aneurysm and was in recovery, I spent long days by her side. One day, as she struggled to express herself, I did what I’d always done. I finished her sentence.

The nurse stopped me gently but firmly.

She explained how important it was that I wait. That my wife needed the time and space to find her own words. That interrupting, even with love, could take away her agency, her confidence, and her voice.

I still remember standing there, feeling slightly embarrassed, but mostly grateful. That moment changed how I listen.

Now, when I talk with other seniors, and someone pauses mid-thought, I wait. I resist the urge to help by supplying the word I think they’re reaching for. I let the silence do its work. And more often than not, the words come, stronger for having arrived on their own.

This is where conversations about elder speak begin, not with bad intentions, but with habits we rarely examine.

Elder speak is a way of communicating with older adults that sounds caring on the surface but carries an undercurrent of condescension. It often includes speaking more slowly or loudly than necessary, using simplified language, exaggerated praise, collective pronouns like “we” instead of “you,” or addressing adults with terms like “dear” or “sweetie.” It can also show up in finishing sentences, redirecting answers, or talking around someone instead of with them.

In healthcare settings, elder speak is especially common. Time pressures are real. Providers want to be kind, efficient, and reassuring. And yet, the impact can be damaging.

When an older person is spoken to this way, the message, intentional or not, is clear: You are less capable. You are not fully in charge here. Over time, that message erodes confidence. People may speak less, ask fewer questions, or stop correcting misunderstandings. Important information gets lost, not because it wasn’t there, but because the space to share it disappeared.

What makes elder speak tricky is that it often feels polite. Friendly, even. Many older adults don’t challenge it because they don’t want to seem difficult or ungrateful. Others internalize it, assuming the problem lies with them rather than the communication style.

And this doesn’t only happen in medical offices or care homes. It happens in grocery stores, family gatherings, community meetings, and casual conversations. Anywhere a pause is interpreted as a deficit rather than a moment of thought.

The difference between respectful communication and subtle condescension isn’t always in the words themselves. It’s in the pacing. The tone. The willingness to wait.

Respect sounds like allowing someone to finish, even if it takes longer. It sounds like asking questions without answering them yourself. It sounds like speaking to an adult as an adult, regardless of age, health, or setting.

None of this requires special training or scripts. It starts with awareness.

The next time someone pauses while speaking, notice what happens inside you. The urge to help. The discomfort with silence. The assumption that speed equals competence. Pauses aren’t signs of decline; they’re often signs of care, choosing the right words instead of the quickest ones.

Language shapes experience. The way we speak to one another either expands or narrows the space people feel they’re allowed to occupy. When we slow down just enough to let others speak for themselves, we don’t lose time. We gain understanding.

And sometimes, all it takes to protect someone’s dignity is the courage to wait.

When the Message Gets Inside: How Self-Directed Ageism Shrinks Possibility

When I was younger, I made a simple promise to myself. Every year, I would try one new thing.

It didn’t have to be dramatic. Sometimes it was a new skill, sometimes a new role, sometimes just walking into a room where I didn’t know anyone. What mattered was that it was unfamiliar. Each time, I noticed the same thing happen. I learned something, or I grew a little, or I discovered I was more capable than I had assumed.

That habit followed me into later life.

Now, when I present at workshops or strike up conversations with people I’ve just met, I often hear the same response: “I could never do what you’re doing.” It’s usually said kindly, sometimes admiringly. But underneath it, I hear something else. Not humility. Not realism. Self-doubt.

Somewhere along the way, many capable, curious older adults have absorbed the message that certain doors are no longer meant for them. Not because of physical limits or lack of interest, but because of an internal voice that says, people our age don’t do that.

One of the unexpected joys of being a senior is realizing that I don’t have to care as much about what others think. That freedom can be light, almost playful. And yet, I see friends who don’t feel it. Friends who won’t tackle anything new because they’re afraid to fail, or worse, afraid to look foolish.

I don’t feel sorry for them. I feel sad.

Not because their lives lack meaning, but because they’re missing moments that might surprise them. Activities that could be fun. Opportunities that might open new doors. Conversations that could lead to friendships they didn’t know they needed. Self-directed ageism doesn’t take away what we already have. It quietly limits what we’re willing to reach.

A friend of mine offers a powerful example of how strong and how fragile this internal barrier can be.

He lost his wife five years ago. Grief reshaped his world, as it does. Two years ago, he attended his high school reunion. It was emotional, nostalgic, and grounding all at once. About a year after that, he was looking through the list of people who had attended and saw a name he hadn’t thought about in decades. His first girlfriend, back in grades eight and nine.

He paused.

Part of him wanted to get in touch. Another part shut the idea down immediately. What would I say? What if she doesn’t remember me? What if it’s awkward? He told himself it was too late, too complicated, too far away. She lived in the Interior of British Columbia. He lived on the coast. Distance became a convenient reason to stop thinking about it.

Self-doubt won.

Months passed. Then, one day, he found himself thinking about her again. The memory hadn’t faded. This time, instead of pushing it away, he did something that made him deeply uncomfortable. He sent an email.

It was short. Simple. Almost painfully cautious. “Are you Linda, and do you remember me?”

Then he left on a two-week camping trip with his children and grandchildren, convinced he’d either hear nothing back or return to an awkward silence.

She responded within a day.

And then she waited.

When he came back and finally replied, the restart was rocky. They had both lived full lives. They were careful, unsure, and very aware of what could go wrong. But they kept talking. Slowly, honestly, without pretending to be younger versions of themselves.

Today, they are a couple. And they are both very happy.

This story isn’t about romance. It’s about permission. The permission to risk embarrassment. The permission to try. The permission to believe that curiosity doesn’t expire.

Self-directed ageism shows up when we stop sending the email, stop signing up, stop raising our hand, stop imagining ourselves in new situations. It affects confidence, yes. But it also affects health choices, social engagement, and our willingness to stay connected to life beyond our routines.

The discomfort of trying something new doesn’t disappear with age. If anything, it can feel sharper, because the cultural message tells us we should be narrowing our world, not expanding it.

But the truth is, possibility doesn’t shrink on its own. It shrinks when we quietly agree that it should.

Recognizing self-directed ageism can be unsettling. It asks us to notice where we’ve absorbed limits that were never ours to begin with. And while that realization can sting, it also opens a door.

Because once we see the message for what it is, we can choose, sometimes nervously, sometimes boldly, not to let it have the final word.

Everyday Ageism: The Quiet Moments That Shape How We Age

The band had taken a break, the music fading into the low hum of conversation and clinking cups. On the dance floor, a group of women stood together, catching their breath, laughing the way teenagers do when the night still feels young. They had been rocking it out, confident, joyful, fully present in their bodies.

I was one of the few men on the floor that evening, and I recognized a couple of the women in the group. Curious, I wandered over and asked one of them what was so funny.

She smiled and said, “We were all commenting on how good we look for our ages.”

The women ranged from about 70 to 85. They were dressed beautifully, faces flushed from dancing, eyes bright. One of her friends chimed in, laughing, “We’re every man’s dream.”

Another woman shot back just as quickly, “You mean nightmare,” and the group erupted again.

I didn’t say much. I simply told them they were all beautiful, which felt true and uncomplicated. But as I stepped back, something lingered with me. A quiet question tugged at the moment.

Why, at this stage of life, were they measuring themselves through the imagined gaze of men? Why was “for our ages” the unspoken qualifier attached to their joy?

That question opens the door to what we often call everyday ageism, the small, normalized moments that rarely make headlines but quietly shape how we see ourselves and each other.

Everyday ageism lives in jokes at family dinners, in offhand comments at work, in compliments that come with conditions. “You look great for your age.” “You’re still so sharp.” “I hope I’m doing as well as you when I’m old.” These remarks are usually well-intentioned. They’re meant to flatter, not diminish. And yet, they carry a message underneath: aging is something to apologize for, to overcome, or to explain away.

Recent data from late 2024 and early 2025 suggest that nearly 70 percent of Canadians aged 50 and older experienced some form of everyday ageism in the past year. Most of it wasn’t overt discrimination. It was subtle. Casual. Easy to dismiss.

And that’s precisely why it matters.

Over time, repeated small messages begin to settle. They don’t land all at once. They accumulate. Slowly, they shape expectations about attractiveness, relevance, competence, and worth. This is where self-directed ageism begins, not because people believe the stereotypes outright, but because they absorb them through a thousand quiet moments.

The women on the dance floor weren’t dramatically expressing self-doubt. They were laughing, enjoying themselves, claiming space. And yet, the humour leaned on an old script: our value is tied to how we look, and age complicates that value. Even the joke about being a “nightmare” carried a familiar edge, the kind that cushions discomfort with laughter.

Self-directed ageism often shows up like this. Not as despair, but as a gentle shrinking of possibility. We lower expectations. We pre-emptively joke at our own expense. We decide not to try something new because “people our age don’t do that.” We measure ourselves against standards that were never designed to grow with us.

What makes everyday ageism so persistent is that it rarely feels malicious. In fact, it often feels like bonding. Shared laughter. Shared understanding. A way to acknowledge reality without making a fuss. But normalization is powerful. When ageist ideas become part of casual conversation, they slip past our defences.

This isn’t about blaming anyone, not the women at the dance, not the people who offer well-meaning compliments, not us when we laugh along. We’re all swimming in the same cultural water. Awareness begins not with accusation, but with noticing.

That night at the dance, the most alive moments weren’t about how anyone looked. They were about movement, music, friendship, and the sheer pleasure of being there. The laughter was real. The joy was real. The bodies on the floor weren’t “good for their age.” They were good, full stop.

Every day ageism doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it whispers during a break in the music, disguised as humour, modesty, or realism. When we begin to hear it, gently and without judgment, we give ourselves and others permission to rewrite the script.

And that’s where change quietly begins, not on a grand stage, but in moments just like this one. 

What Really Makes Intergenerational Connection Work

 The room was full, but something was missing.

At first glance, the intergenerational lunch at the community centre appeared to be a success. Long tables were arranged, the smell of soup filled the hall, and a pleasant hum of activity was present. On one side of the room sat older adults, familiar faces who had spent years volunteering, organizing, and attending community events. On the other side were young people, lively, courteous, and somewhat unsure of where they belonged in this space.

During the first lunch, the young people served the seniors. Plates were carried carefully, smiles exchanged, thank-yous offered. It was kind. It was respectful. Yet, something felt flat. The two groups occupied the same room, acknowledged each other, and then quietly returned to their own spaces circles.

At the second lunch, the roles were reversed. Seniors served the young people. There was laughter this time, a few jokes about portion sizes and who was working harder. But still, once the plates were cleared, people drifted back to their corners. Helpful. Courteous. Separate.

The shift didn’t happen until a few seniors did something simple and unexpected. They picked up their cups, walked over, and sat down with the young people. Not to supervise. Not to instruct. Just to talk.

That’s when the room changed.

Stories began to move across the table. A young person talked about school pressure and uncertainty about the future. A senior shared what it felt like to leave a long-held job and start again in later life. Someone laughed about music tastes. Someone else admitted they’d been nervous walking into the room. The noise level rose, but so did the warmth. What had been two polite groups became a shared space.

That moment captures an important truth about bringing generations together: simply putting people of different ages in the same room isn’t enough.

If we want intergenerational connection to work, really work, three conditions need to be present. Without them, we get good intentions and missed opportunities. With them, something human and transformative begins to take shape.

The first condition is equal status.

At that lunch, serving roles unintentionally reinforced a familiar pattern: one group giving, the other receiving. Even when done kindly, it creates distance. Real connection began only when seniors and young people met as equals, sitting at the same table, sharing stories, listening without an agenda. Equal status doesn’t mean identical roles or experiences. It means mutual respect and recognition that everyone brings value into the room.

The second condition is a shared purpose.

Connection deepens when people aren’t just present together, but doing something together. Eating the same meal helped, but the real shared purpose emerged through conversation—trying to understand one another’s lives, worries, hopes, and assumptions. Whether it’s solving a community problem, planning an event, or simply exploring each other’s stories, shared purpose gives people a reason to lean in rather than stand back.

The third condition is institutional support.

That lunch didn’t happen by accident. It was created, hosted, and encouraged by a community centre that believed intergenerational connection mattered. Institutional support sends a powerful message: this isn’t a novelty or a one-off event; it’s something we value. When organizations make space, provide structure, and model respect, people feel safer stepping beyond their comfort zones.

When one or more of these conditions are missing, intergenerational efforts often stall. We see it in schools where seniors are invited in only as “helpers,” or in programs where young people are treated as entertainment rather than contributors. We see it in workplaces and communities where age groups are siloed, well-meaning but disconnected.

And we see it in everyday life, where generations pass each other politely in grocery stores, waiting rooms, and community halls, rarely stopping long enough to really meet.

What made the lunch come alive wasn’t a program change or a policy shift. It was a decision, small, human, and brave, to cross an invisible line and sit down together.

That decision challenges one of the quiet forces that keeps ageism alive: the assumption that generations don’t have much to offer one another. When we accept that assumption, we design spaces that separate rather than connect. When we question it, we begin to notice how often our communities unintentionally block the very relationships we say we want.

As you think about your own circles, your workplace, volunteer group, neighbourhood, or family gatherings, ask yourself a few gentle questions. Where do generations share space but not status? Where are roles fixed in ways that prevent mutual exchange? Where could a shared purpose replace polite distance?

Intergenerational connection doesn’t require grand gestures. Sometimes it starts with a chair pulled closer, a question asked without assumptions, or the willingness to sit down and listen.

When generations truly meet, the room doesn’t just fill with noise. It fills with possibility.

Ageism

 Ageism—discrimination based on age—affects many people, especially seniors. It shows up in everyday conversations, workplace policies, and even how older adults are represented in the media. Understanding and reducing ageism isn’t just a societal need; it’s something we can all contribute to, whether we’re navigating retirement ourselves or supporting someone who is. Thankfully, there are ways to tackle ageism that have been carefully studied and proven to work. Let’s explore these strategies in an easy-to-follow and engaging way.

One of the most powerful tools in reducing ageism is education. When people learn about the realities of aging, they often realize how much of what they believe about older adults simply isn’t true. For instance, there’s a common stereotype that seniors are less capable of learning new things. In reality, older adults are constantly adapting, whether by mastering new technology, learning new hobbies, or even pursuing second careers. When these examples are shared through education programs, they help dismantle outdated ideas about aging.

But education alone isn’t enough. Pairing it with opportunities for younger and older generations to interact can make a real difference. Picture this: a group of high school students and retirees collaborating on a community garden. The students bring energy and fresh ideas, while the retirees offer wisdom, practical know-how, and patience. Through projects like this, both groups discover strengths they didn’t know the other had, and perceptions naturally shift. It’s not just about breaking down barriers; it’s about building mutual respect.

Let’s make this personal. Think about a time when you felt underestimated because of your age, whether you were "too young" or "too old" for something. That frustration you felt is what many older adults experience regularly. By fostering understanding and meaningful connections, we can create a world where age doesn’t define someone’s value or capabilities.

It’s also worth noting that small, everyday actions can help reduce ageism. Advocating for fair treatment, challenging stereotypes when you hear them, and sharing your own stories as an older adult are all ways to make a difference. Imagine telling a younger colleague about a skill you recently learned, or sharing how you’ve stayed active and engaged in retirement. These personal anecdotes can open minds and hearts in ways that statistics never could.

The good news is, attitudes about aging are changing, but the shift needs all of us. Whether it’s joining a program that connects generations or simply sharing your experiences to challenge stereotypes, every effort counts. Together, we can create a society that values people of all ages for who they are and what they contribute.

If you’re retired or helping someone who’s thinking about retirement, remember that you have the power to help reshape how society views aging. It starts with learning, connecting, and showing the world what aging with purpose and dignity really looks like.

10 Tips to Combat Ageism Within an Organization

Nearly 60 years after workplace age discrimination was outlawed, two out of three workers aged 45 to 74 say they have experienced age discrimination at work, according to AARP. A study published in JAMA (the Journal of the American Medical Association) found more than 90% of people between 50 and 80 experienced some level of ageism in their lives.

Discovering and addressing our internal biases and stereotypes is crucial. Ageism in the workplace is prevalent, but the good news is that awareness empowers us. Recognizing ageism in the workplace is just the beginning. Taking proactive steps to prevent it is key.

Raise Awareness

Foster a culture where individuals are mindful of ageist behaviors. Offer training sessions to educate employees on ageism and how to identify it. Schedule quarterly workshops where employees can learn about ageism through interactive activities, guest speakers, and group discussions.

Review HR Processes

Assess your hiring procedures to ensure age bias is not infiltrating your organization. Identify areas where improvements can be made. Conduct blind resume reviews where age-related information is removed to focus on candidates' skills and experiences.

Encourage open communication.

Create a safe and confidential reporting system for employees to share their experiences of ageism. This can be done through an anonymous reporting platform or a designated HR representative. For example, the organization can have a "Speak Up" hotline where employees can report any incidents of ageism.

Celebrate age diversity,

Organize events and activities that celebrate the diversity of ages within the organization. This can include intergenerational mentorship programs, age-themed celebrations, or even a "Wisdom Exchange" program where older employees share their expertise with younger colleagues.

Educate Managers

Managers play a vital role in leading by example. Equip them with the knowledge and skills to recognize and address ageist behaviors within their teams. Implement mandatory manager training sessions on diversity and inclusion, specifically focusing on age-related issues and how to support an age-diverse team.

Embrace Reverse Mentoring

Launch a reverse mentorship program to create a mutually beneficial learning experience between older and younger employees. Encourage them to learn from each other and challenge age biases. Pair senior employees with younger employees to share their expertise in areas like leadership and industry knowledge, while younger employees can provide insights into new technologies and social media trends.

Establish a Go-To Person

Clearly communicate to all employees who they can approach if they encounter ageism and are uncomfortable discussing it with their immediate manager. Designate a diversity and inclusion officer who is trained to handle ageism complaints and promote a safe and confidential reporting process.

Implement Flexible Work Arrangements

Offer flexible work options to accommodate the diverse needs of older employees, such as part-time roles, job-sharing, or remote work opportunities. Create a policy that allows employees to request flexible working arrangements and ensure that requests are fairly assessed based on business needs and employee circumstances.

Highlight Success Stories

Celebrate and promote the achievements of older employees within the organization to showcase their value and counteract ageist stereotypes. Feature success stories of older employees in company newsletters, on the intranet, and during team meetings to highlight their contributions and inspire others.

Promote Lifelong Learning

Encourage continuous learning and development for employees of all ages by providing access to training programs, workshops, and educational resources. Offer professional development stipends or access to online courses for all employees, emphasizing that learning and growth are continuous processes that benefit everyone.

Create Age-Inclusive Policies

Develop and enforce policies that explicitly prohibit age discrimination and promote age diversity within the workplace. Revise the company's code of conduct to include clear guidelines against age discrimination and ensure that all employees are aware of these policies through regular communication and training.

Foster Intergenerational Collaboration

Encourage projects and initiatives that bring together employees from different age groups to work collaboratively, leveraging their diverse perspectives and skills. Organize cross-generational teams for strategic projects or problem-solving workshops, ensuring a mix of ages and experiences to promote innovation and inclusivity.

Monitor and track progress.

Regularly monitor and track the organization's progress in reducing ageism. This can be done through surveys, focus groups, or anonymous feedback mechanisms. The organization can also set goals and metrics to measure the success of its ageism-reduction initiatives. For example, the organization can conduct an annual survey to gauge employee perceptions of ageism and track changes over time.

By implementing these additional strategies, organizations can create a more inclusive and supportive environment that values employees of all ages, ultimately helping to reduce and eliminate ageism in the workplace.

Creating an Age-Inclusive Society

To combat ageism and promote an age-inclusive society, it is essential to challenge stereotypes and raise awareness about the valuable contributions of seniors. Fostering intergenerational relationships and encouraging advocacy and empowerment initiatives can also help break down age-related barriers. Furthermore, implementing age-friendly policies and legislation that protect the rights and well-being of older adults is crucial in creating a society that values and respects individuals of all ages.

Many countries have laws in place that aim to protect against age discrimination in various settings, such as employment, housing, and public services. These laws prohibit unfair treatment based on age and provide avenues for legal recourse for those who experience ageism. It's essential to know your rights and understand the protections available to you or your loved ones.

In recent years, there has been a growing movement towards age-friendly policies that prioritize the needs and well-being of older adults. These policies aim to create environments that promote active aging, social participation, and inclusion. Examples include age-friendly cities and communities, accessible public transportation, and age-inclusive healthcare services. By implementing such policies, societies can work towards becoming more inclusive and supportive of their aging populations.

While legislation and policies are important steps toward combating ageism, it's necessary to evaluate their effectiveness. Regular assessments and reviews can help identify gaps or areas for improvement in existing legal measures. By continually refining and updating these laws, we can ensure that they remain relevant and effective in addressing ageism and protecting the rights of seniors.

In conclusion, ageism has far-reaching consequences for seniors, impacting their health, well-being, and overall quality of life. It's up to all of us to challenge these prejudices and foster a more age-inclusive society. By raising awareness, promoting intergenerational relationships, and advocating for policy changes, we can dismantle ageist barriers and create a world where people of all ages are valued and respected. Remember, we're never too old to make a difference!

It is our collective responsibility to combat ageism and create a future that embraces the wisdom, experience, and contributions of older adults. Together, let us strive to ensure that every individual, regardless of age, is treated with dignity, respect, and fairness.

 

Should We Reframe How We Talk About Aging?

In an earlier post, I suggested that ageism is a problem because the research on the subject is inconclusive. One way to bring more awareness to the issue is to improve the public’s understanding of aging. Reframing Aging, a United States research group in its research found that there are stark differences between what professionals in the field of aging believe about older people and the process of aging and what the public believes. We need to find better ways to talk about aging so that the public learns the whole story about aging, not just the incomplete version that focuses on dependence and disability. Some of these gaps include:

Key Drivers of Aging Outcomes

While professionals working in the field of aging recognize the role of contextual, social, and systemic factors in shaping the process and experience of aging, the public sees individuals and their will and personal decisions as determining the shape and outcomes of the life course. 

Attitude Toward Aging

Professionals working in the field of aging believe that aging brings new opportunities and capacities for growth, contribution, and self-expression, while the public sees few positive aspects of aging and views age as an opponent to fight.

Outcomes of Increased Longevity

Advocates and professionals in the field of aging recognize that increased longevity brings both challenges and opportunities. It may mean more years living on a fixed income, living with chronic conditions that require treatment and support, and living beyond our ability to drive our own cars. At the same time, it may mean more opportunities to contribute to families and communities and experience new things for the first time. We know that there are many ways to meet these challenges and maximize these opportunities through programs, policies, education, and new attitudes. The public, on the other hand, sees only the challenges and is not confident that much can be done to ensure well-being in older age.

Policy Solutions

While professionals working in the field of aging explain that successful adaptation to an aging society requires adjustments across the full spectrum of our national infrastructure, the public has largely not considered public policy as a solution.

Ageism

Professionals working in the field of aging are attuned to the myriad ways that older people face discrimination in our society, however, the public is largely not aware of ageism or the need to address it.

To address the lack of knowledge about ageism and its impacts, advocates need to define ageism, explain the problem and its consequences, and suggest systemic solutions in messages about ageism.

Thoughts on Ageism

Ageism, a form of discrimination based on age, is a pervasive issue that affects individuals in numerous aspects of their lives. Ageism encompasses various forms of prejudice, stereotypes, and discrimination that target older adults, leading to detrimental consequences for their psychological well-being, social inclusion, and economic stability.

Ageism has been around longer than the debate of pineapple on pizza. Throughout history, societies have often valued youth and beauty while disregarding the wisdom and experience that comes with age. From limiting employment opportunities to shaping societal norms, ageism has embedded itself deep within our cultural framework.

Ageism is like that annoying relative who thinks they know everything about you based on one family gathering. Older adults are often subjected to stereotypes like being technologically inept, forgetful, or even resistant to change. It's as if the moment you hit a certain age, people assume you can no longer grasp the intricacies of modern life. But hey, what do they know? They're probably still using flip phones.

Institutional ageism is like that annoying automated voice you encounter when trying to reach customer service—impersonal, frustrating, and just plain unfair. This type of ageism is embedded in policies, practices, and systems that limit access to resources and services for older individuals. From healthcare to finance, institutional ageism can make navigating the world a whole lot more challenging for seniors.

Discrimination against seniors can be as subtle as a backhanded compliment or as blatant as denying them opportunities solely based on their age. Society often forgets to include older adults in important conversations and decision-making processes. It's like they think they're outdated and have nothing valuable to contribute. Newsflash: we are the original influencers, and our wisdom is priceless.

Ageism can do a number on an individual's self-esteem. Constantly being bombarded with messages that depreciate our value based on age can make some older adults question their worth and identity. It's like society expects us to stop growing and contributing just because we've celebrated a few more birthdays. But guess what? We are still rocking our  leather jackets and dancing like nobody's watching.

Promoting Positive Ageing

Embracing a positive mindset towards aging is a key strategy to enhance subjective age. By challenging negative beliefs about getting older, we can reshape our perspective and adopt a more optimistic view. Engage in activities that promote personal growth, celebrate achievements, and maintain a sense of purpose. Surround yourself with positive role models who embody active and fulfilling lives at any age. Remember, age is just a number, and it doesn't define our potential for happiness and fulfillment.

To combat ageism, we need to start by raising awareness and challenging the stereotypes that perpetuate it. We can all play a part by speaking out against ageist language and jokes, and by promoting positive images and stories of older adults. Let's celebrate the wisdom, experience, and contributions that come with age, rather than reducing someone's worth to a number.

Building strong connections between different generations is another powerful way to combat ageism. By fostering intergenerational relationships, we can break down barriers and bridge the gap between young and old. Whether it's through volunteering, mentorship programs, or community initiatives, these connections help challenge ageist assumptions and promote understanding and empathy across all age groups.

In addition to mindset, certain lifestyle factors can contribute to how young or old we feel. Taking care of our physical health through regular exercise, a balanced diet, and proper sleep can have a positive impact on our subjective age. Engaging in meaningful social connections and maintaining an active social life can also promote feelings of youthfulness and belonging. Finding purpose and meaning in our daily lives, whether through work, hobbies, or volunteering, can provide a sense of fulfillment and vitality at any age.

Advocacy and empowerment initiatives are crucial in the fight against ageism. By joining forces with organizations and activists working to combat age-based discrimination, we can amplify our voices and push for change. Together, we can advocate for policies and programs that promote inclusivity, equal rights, and opportunities for people of all ages. Remember, age is just a number, not a measure of a person's worth

Chronological vs Subjective ageind Examining Stereotypes and Prejudice

Ageism, much like the high-waisted jeans trend, is a concept that has unfortunately stood the test of time. It refers to prejudice, stereotyping, and discrimination against individuals based on their age, particularly when it pertains to older adults. You know, like assuming they can't work their smartphone and offering to show them how to send a text like it's a mystical art form.

Unfortunately, ageism is still prevalent in society, and it affects individuals of all ages. Ageism refers to stereotypes, prejudice, and discrimination based on age. Older adults often face negative stereotypes, such as being viewed as frail, technologically inept, or mentally unstable. These stereotypes can lead to exclusion, limited opportunities, and unequal treatment. Conversely, younger individuals may also experience ageism, with their abilities and perspectives being disregarded due to their perceived lack of life experience.

The impact of ageism on mental health should not be underestimated. Feeling marginalized and overlooked can lead to increased rates of depression, anxiety, and even cognitive decline. It's like society is saying, "Hey, you're old, so you might as well just sit in a rocking chair and count down your days." But seniors are resilient, and they deserve better than society's ageist assumption

Interestingly, subjective age plays a role in the experience of ageism. Individuals who feel younger than their chronological age may be more resilient to age-related stereotypes and discrimination. They are less likely to conform to societal expectations and are more likely to challenge ageist attitudes. On the other hand, those who feel older than their age may internalize negative age-related beliefs, leading to reduced self-confidence and a greater susceptibility to ageist treatment. Recognizing the impact of subjective age in the context of ageism is essential for fostering a more inclusive and age-diverse society.

It is possible to change our subjective age. Although subjective age is influenced by a variety of factors, including genetic predispositions and societal norms, research suggests that interventions and lifestyle modifications can impact how we perceive our age. By adopting a healthy lifestyle, engaging in activities that promote a sense of purpose and fulfillment, and cultivating a positive mindset towards aging, individuals can experience a shift in their subjective age and embrace a more positive and youthful outlook on life.

 

Subjective vs Chronological Age 1

Do you feel as old as you are, and if so, what does this mean to your ability to enjoy growing older. Subjective vs Chronological age are distinct concepts and can have different impacts on various aspects of the well-being and health of those of us who are older.

I don’t think about my age and have not done so, since I turned legal drinking age about 56 years ago. I know that there were milestones celebrated with friends and family, (turning 40, turning 50, becoming 65, etc.) but I did not think about what being those ages meant. Nor do I think about what being my age today means. I think about what I can and cannot do, rather than what I can or cannot do because of my age. Subjective age refers to how individuals perceive and experience their own age, which may or may not align with their chronological age. I have read that some people may feel younger or older than their actual age, and this perception can influence their attitudes, behaviours, and overall well-being. Since I don’t know how one should feel at a particular age, this fascinates me.

Research has shown that younger subjective age is associated with various positive outcomes, including better cognitive functioning, higher levels of physical activity, improved mental health, and a reduced risk of mortality. Older adults who feel younger tend to engage in more adaptive health behaviours and report higher life satisfaction.

Aging is a complex process, and our perception of age plays a significant role in how we experience it. Subjective age and chronological age are two key concepts that shape our understanding of aging.

Chronological age is the most straightforward concept—it's simply the number of years we have been alive since birth. It is the most commonly used method to determine age and is often used in legal, medical, and social contexts. Chronological age is fixed and does not change, unlike subjective age which can fluctuate based on individual experiences and perceptions. It serves as an objective measurement of our age and is widely used in legal, medical, and social contexts. However, as we'll discover, it doesn't tell the whole story of how we feel or experience aging.

Subjective age, on the other hand, is more about how old or young we perceive ourselves to be. It's a subjective experience that considers personal beliefs, attitudes, and various factors that influence our feelings and behaviors. It is important to understand that subjective perceptions can vary greatly from person to person. Some individuals may feel younger than their chronological age, while others may feel older. It's important to note that subjective age may not necessarily correspond to physical or biological markers of aging. This means that two individuals of the same chronological age may have completely different subjective ages based on their unique perspectives and experiences.

Subjective age and chronological age are two distinct concepts that shape our perception and experience of aging. While chronological age refers to the number of years, we have been alive, subjective age relates to how old or young we feel and perceive ourselves to be.

By understanding the interplay between these two dimensions, we can gain insights into the complexity of aging and its impact on various aspects of our lives.

A walk down memory lane with a purpose

 We need to find ways to make our voices heard, here are some more ideas.

Stay informed about proposed legislation related to senior rights and ageism. Support bills and initiatives that aim to address these issues and urge your elected officials to support them as well. Share information about relevant legislation with your networks to raise awareness and build broader support. Pick up the phone and write to your mayors, MLAs, and MPs. Let them know about the challenges we face in our communities and the support we require. In the community I live, the number of individuals over 50 accounts for 38% of the population, with 16% being over 65. Shockingly, there are 40,000 seniors over 65, outnumbering the 32,000 students attending school. We can be ignored only if our politicians don’t want to be re-elected.

Engage with younger generations to foster understanding and solidarity. Encourage open discussions about ageism, its impact on seniors, and the importance of respecting and valuing older adults. By promoting intergenerational dialogue, we can challenge stereotypes and work towards a more inclusive society.

Seniors over 65 in BC who are not in long-term care or assisted living are required to pay for the NACI-recommended Fluzone High Dose Influenza Vaccine, costing approximately $75 to $90. Meanwhile, provinces like Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, Ontario, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Yukon Territory provide this vaccine for free. The federal government covers the cost for those in long-term care and assisted living. Why are seniors in BC not receiving the recommended Fluzone High Dose Influenza Vaccine? Instead, they are offered a trivalent Fluad vaccine not recommended by NACI. We must prioritize the health of seniors, keeping them out of hospitals by taking proactive measures.

The high cost of vaccines poses another challenge. Many vulnerable seniors cannot afford the Shingles vaccine (priced at $300) or the Pneumococcal vaccine Prevnar 20 (costing approximately $150) to prevent pneumonia. Given that 74% of seniors already have pre-existing chronic conditions that lower their immunity, preventive action by the Ministry of Health would significantly reduce hospital admissions.

Remember when we discussed getting "badass" again? Well, now is the time to act. Reach out to your MLAs and contact your mayors, expressing your concerns and needs. Use this link to identify your MLA: ((leg.bc.ca)). If we don't raise our voices and address our concerns, no one else will. An election is approaching in BC, scheduled on or before October 19, 2024. Parties and candidates will be formulating their platforms and seeking our votes. As seniors, we possess the power to drive change. This is our call to action!

Consider utilizing media platforms to share your perspectives and advocate against ageism. Write op-eds, create blog posts, or contribute articles to local newspapers or online publications. Use storytelling as a powerful tool to raise awareness and challenge negative narratives surrounding aging.

By taking these actions, seniors can make a significant impact in raising awareness about ageism, improving their treatment during and after the COVID-19 pandemic, and influencing policy decisions. Together, we can work towards a society that values and respects people of all ages, ensuring that seniors receive the support and dignity they deserve.

Let's make a difference and demand the attention, support, and resources we deserve. Together, we can create a better future for all seniors in our communities.

Ah, ageism, the fine art of stereotyping

 Ah, ageism, the fine art of stereotyping an entire group of people because, well, who needs individuality when you can make sweeping generalizations? Lately, the media has been having a field day discussing how affluent seniors have become. Some in the media have even dubbed us "Old. Rich. Spoiled." Quite the compliment, I must say.

Let's take a moment to appreciate the riveting statistics Canada has to offer. According to Stats Canada, in 2020, the total median income of Canadian senior citizens aged 65 years and over amounted to $32,020 Canadian dollars. and 25% of seniors earn an income of less than $21,000. Hold on to your pearls, because 50% of Canadian seniors are living on less than that, with the majority of them braving the solitude of living alone. Meanwhile, those youthful whippersnappers are enjoying a median income of, $51,170 for the prime working-age population, often in the luxurious embrace of a two-person household, where costs are conveniently split. How utterly unfair!

Now, don't you dare forget about the impoverished souls in British Columbia. Our Senior Advocate, claims that over 52,000 seniors in that province are barely surviving on a measly $16,300 per year. How they manage to scrape by is truly a mystery. Sure, some may argue that low-income seniors live in homes without mortgages, but let's not overlook those property taxes, insurance, and maintenance costs that just love to devour their fixed income. And let's not forget the joy of being a part of the 20% of senior households that are rented, facing annual increases on their stagnant income. It's a real party.

But wait, there's more! Seniors also get to revel in the delightful realm of healthcare costs. Need drugs? Mobility aids? Dental care? Eyeglasses or hearing aids? Well, tough luck, my friend. Seniors bear the full brunt of those expenses, with no workplace benefits to soften the blow.

Sure, seniors might have some wealth squirrelled away, but let's not forget they're required to actually generate an income from it. Unlike those lucky ducks who receive their income from employment and can watch their wealth compound effortlessly. Life just isn't fair, is it?

But hey, it's not all doom and gloom. Seniors also happen to make some pretty impressive contributions to society. They volunteer like there's no tomorrow, bless their generous souls. And let's not forget the millions of hours of care they provide to their spouses and sometimes even their parents. Can you imagine the horror if they didn't step up? The cost to the government would be downright staggering! In fact, unpaid caregivers over 65 save the Canadian healthcare system an estimated four billion dollars. Cha-ching!

And guess what? Seniors don't just stop at unpaid labour, they're also quite generous with their wallets. In B.C., seniors are oh-so-kindly required to part with 80% of their income for the privilege of residential care, up to a maximum of $3092.66. But that's not all! They also graciously offer up 70% of their income for government-subsidized assisted living, with the maximum amount varying based on local market conditions. And as if that weren't enough, they even get to co-pay the costs of their home support on a sliding scale, all based on their income. Isn't that just delightful?

So, you see, dear friends, seniors are a truly unique bunch. Some have money, some don't. Some are in good health, while others aren't so fortunate. Some give back to their communities, while others... well, let's just say they're not as dedicated. But what matters most is that we value their uniqueness, just like we do with those not yet burdened by the grand old age of 65. Let's make sure no one gets left behind and create a society that embraces one and all. Cheers to that!

Official Launch of the Canadian Coalition Against Ageism

The official launch of the newly-formed Canadian Coalition Against Ageism took place in Toronto in late November. The BC Seniors Advocate is one of the founding members of the Coalition, along with other organizations and experts that are committed to ending ageism. Organizations supporting the initiative include ILC Canada, CNPEA, Help Age Canada, CanAge, the International Federation on Ageing, RTOERO, and the National Pensioners Federation.

The coalition’s goal is to combat ageism, focus on strengthening, protecting and promoting the human rights of older adults and “encourage the Canadian government and the United Nations to support recommendations from the World Health Organization’s Global Report on Ageism”. The event was also an opportunity to connect with the senior's advocates in Newfoundland and New Brunswick to discuss common issues impacting older Canadians.

To read the UN Global Report on Ageism, visit: https://www.who.int/publications/i/item/9789240016866