Shingles is a very painful condition that usual targets the elderly.  The good news is that once you get it, in most cases you won’t get it again.  Also good news, recovery for most is swift.  But for my grandmother, her recent bout with Shingles is the last straw.

 At 96, Gaga (as we affectionately call her) lives on her own in Philadelphia.  She lives in a great apartment building for seniors.  The property is secure and has many conveniences,  an activity room, a library, computer center, fitness center, endless activities and the residents take regular field trips… including shopping trips to the grocery store.  The only thing that is not here is some type of assisted living program.

 My grandmother is amazingly active… even cooking and cleaning for herself.  But lately, I must admit, she is showing signs of aging that has me concerned about her living on her own.  Gaga, being very much in her right mind, is concerned also.  That’s why she says she wants to move to an assisted living facility.

 I must admit, at first I had reservations.  We’ve all heard the horror stories associated with these facilities.  And, of course, I can’t help thinking when I get that age, I don’t want to live in a rest home.  Isn’t that what family is for?  To take care of our elders until they go to that final resting place? 

 It is a difficult choice for so many families, especially when that elderly loved one needs constant care or medical attention.  Providing that care can be emotionally and physically taxing, as well as time consuming for family members… which can bring a tremendous strain to the household.   And hiring good help can be expensive.

 Being in her right mind,  Gaga says very often and very firmly (she is a feisty one)  that she does not want to move to Georgia (where my mother lives)  because her friends are here in Philly.  She adds that it also doesn’t make sense because she believes she will die soon and there will be the added cost to transport her body back the Philly, where her funeral and burial have already been paid for.  She also says she refuses to be a burden. 

 I still can’t help but feel guilty, but today I am here in Philly and we are going to look at assisted-living/rest homes.  The good news is that my grandmother can afford to live in a kind of upscale facility.  She and my grandfather, who died two years ago, were big savers.

 All of this has me thinking about living out those final years.  Especially about those who could not save enough to afford proper care they may require in their senior years.  It breaks my heart to think about the countless number of elderly who probably lived very rich and fulfilling lives but will now spend those final years poor, alone and most likely, neglected.  They deserve better.

I have to talk about a recent incident that got me thinking about when to insert myself into a situation that does not directly involve me. I was walking down my block in Brooklyn, on my way to the cleaners.  I live directly across the street from a middle school, so often I see students coming and going from class. 

 On this particular day,  as I was walking down the street, about a quarter of a block in front of me were four middle school girls, walking ahead of me. But they were about my size, just a tad shorter.    The girls were singing and shouting at the top of their lungs, as well as laughing, all typical activity for young girls.  But then something happened that left me shocked and appalled.

  A woman turned the corner and was walking towards us.  I was still about a quarter of a block behind the girls.  So the woman would pass them first.  She passed the first two girls who barley noticed her.  But the last girl, who was lagging behind a bit did something unforgivable. As this woman passed closely by the girl, the girl reached over and touched one of the woman’s breast and quickly flipped it up  (just for the sake of reference I will note that the woman was a generous A cup, so it seemed like she didn’t have a bra on, but she had on two layered t-shirts). The woman, who was clearly shocked, stopped and looked at the girl.  The girl kept walking, but was laughing hysterically at what she had done and began telling her friends what just happened.  The woman was clearly mortified but kept walking. 

  Then as the woman got further up the street, she yelled out the f-word, and that was all she said. I kept walking but the girls stopped and I wondered as I got closer to them if we would have any kind of negative interaction.  Interestingly enough, one of the girls innocently asked me for a quarter (not the one that flipped the breast).  I said that  I didn’t have one, but I have to admit my heart raced a bit.  Here’s why.   I hear countless stories about girls in gangs, especially in New York. In fact a 16 year old girl was recently arrested in the city on two separate murder charges.  These girls seemed a bit detached from morality. And while I wanted to say something to these girls about their behavior, something inside of me told me to mind my business and walk on by, so I did. 

 I can’t stop thinking about that woman, who didn’t seem to speak much English. She was a very thin, young, Asian woman.  She must have felt so violated.  I know I would have.  But had she retaliated, I believe without question she would have had a fight on her hands.  And that breaks my heart.  What influenced these girls to be so disrespectful of other people and themselves?   I mean these girls didn’t even know this woman. And the girl, with her friends approval, felt she had every right to touch that woman in that way. 

 Quite frankly, I am also surprised at myself.  I was disgusted at what I saw.  And usually when I see kids acting up, I have something to say.  In adult to child kind of way.  Especially since the girls were Black like me.  But these girls, as I said before, seemed unable to feel remorse. And I felt like stepping in, even to let them know what they did was wrong, would have proved harmful for me.  But I can’t help but feel guilty about not standing up for that woman.