Before you put down this page and get into the book, think a bit about what I’ve just said and take it seriously. I’m a seventy-three-year-old gerontologist who’s moving, by inches, into old age. I wrote a textbook in gerontology, but I learned more from personal example than I ever did from books. I had the great good fortune, with my wife, to spend seven years caring for our dear friend Larry Morris, who moved into our home and later died in our midst at the age of ninety-seven. As Larry approached his nineties, he had outlived two wives and had no children. He was a Solo Ager and his example remains an inspiration to me.
In the classic novel Goodbye, Mr. Chips, the hero is a man who has spent his life as a humble teacher at a boys’ school. He’s lying on his deathbed when he overhears friends talking about his life, saying it was a pity he never had any children. Mr. Chips pipes up to say “But you’re wrong. I have! Thousands of ’em, thousands of ’em … and all … boys.”
Mr. Chips has spent his life as what we might call an investor in social capital: in the “ties that bind” us together and that make our lives meaningful in the end. Successful Solo Agers are those who have done best at cultivating those ties. That’s the lesson I learned from Larry Morris, who spent so many years of his life giving to others and cultivating friends, including younger friends, like me and my wife.
The Beatles had it down when they sang, “I get by with a little help from my friends.” Those lyrics sound like a cliché, but they aren’t. Epidemiologists are now discovering that isolation and loneliness constitute “the new smoking.” The lack of social ties has a devastating impact on mortality and life expectancy. In short, “going it alone” can kill you. Successful Solo Agers are those who are solo only in certain respects. They are the successful investors in social capital, and this book will show you how to learn from what they already know.
So, whether married or single, childless or with children, we all have to ask the question: Can we learn to be an “investor in social capital?” Yes, we can. Sociological theorists like Robert Putnam (Bowling Alone) can tell you how to do it. As with physical health, when it comes to strengthening social ties, it’s never too late to make up for lost time—and in our overly busy world we all have to struggle against that threat of lost time. Prof. Putnam has warned us about the dangers, as a society, of depleting our social capital. It’s up to us to take that warning seriously.
My wife of forty-eight years and I have two grown children, a son and daughter in their thirties, so perhaps we don’t technically qualify as a “Solo Agers.” But maybe I should say “not yet.” The truth is, as I said earlier, eventually, one member of a couple dies before the other. On a statistical basis, bereavement affects women more than men, but I have more than one close male friend who’s a widower.
Take seriously the idea that you, like me, may one day be a Solo Ager. Never think, as the friends of Mr. Chips did, that it’s a pity you never had any children. Instead, read what this book has to offer and don’t delay a single day in applying its lessons.
—Harry R. Moody, PhD,
Visiting Professor, Fielding Graduate School,
Retired Vice President for Academic Affairs, AARP
Harry “Rick” Moody is the author of over 100 scholarly articles, as well as numerous books on aging. Dr. Moody previously served as Executive Director of the Brookdale Center on Aging at Hunter College and was Chairman of the Board of Elderhostel (now Road Scholar).
His new book, Gerontology: The Basics, will be published by Routledge in 2017. In 2011, he received the Lifetime Achievement Award from the American Society on Aging; in 2010, Masterpiece Living honored him with the Robert Kahn Award for Successful Aging; and in 2008 he was named by Utne Reader Magazine as one of “50 Visionaries Who Are Changing Your World.”
About six years ago, I started noticing that many of my friends were spending a lot of time tending to aging parents. Those who lived nearby were needed for driving, relocation, managing medications, bringing them to doctor’s appointments. Those whose parent(s) lived further away did their caregiving long distance—by managing local caregivers or by spending a lot of time on airplanes. None of my friends had thought about this ahead of time, and neither had their parents. But suddenly mom fell or a doctor called to say that dad shouldn’t drive anymore or mom’s behavior had become worrisome.
These friends of mine, these adult children were called in to help, no matter their history of closeness or off-again on-again estrangement. They showed up. Who else would do it? If there were other siblings, they usually shared the responsibility and the tasks, those living closest carrying the lion’s share, with expenses divvied up among them as best they could be.
One day, my friend Monica told me about her recent visit with her ninety-two-year-old father-in-law. She had been flying from California to upstate New York several times a year for the past three years, staying for three to four weeks at a time. During her visits she made sure he was keeping his house in order, preparing nutritious meals for himself, and paying his bills. She talked to the neighbors, went to church with him, and restocked the pantry to reassure herself and her husband that he was healthy and safe.
However, now she was concerned. On her most recent visit, Edward was displaying some troubling behaviors. He was not keeping up with his personal hygiene, and he had started wandering through the house in the middle of the night. A couple of times, thinking it was morning, he prepared breakfast for the two of them at three in the morning. Monica and her husband decided it was time to look for a residential facility and start the difficult task of preparing him for the move. Since her husband had a full-time job, they decided Monica would stay in New York for an additional month, keeping an eye on her father-in-law and managing the “project.”
When I hung up the phone and thought about what she had just told me, I asked myself, “Who will do that for us?” The answer “No one” made me gasp.
My husband and I are in our sixties and have no children. We are professionals with a lot of education and serious careers, like many of our friends—people who used to be called “DINKs” (double income, no kids). As I dug deeper, I discovered a 2005 Pew Research study which reported that 19.4 percent of the boomer generation did not have kids (almost double the percentage of child-free women in all previous generations).1 Wow!
Who will do for us what we did for our parents?
With the natural infertility rate among women around 10 percent, it seemed odd that the baby boomer rate was so high. Then it dawned on me that there were a couple of logical reasons. Number one, the baby boomers were the first generation to arrive at adolescence after the introduction of the birth control pill. The second reason is that baby boomer women were the first truly liberated women in United States history. Higher education was available, the US legal system made it a crime to discriminate on the basis of gender, and by 1980, women had begun challenging every male stronghold. A boomer woman no longer needed a man to support her. She could remain single for life or put off marriage until her thirties or forties.
Sometime in my thirties, I made a conscious choice to NOT have children. Have I ever regretted that choice? Occasionally, but only in recent years as I listen to my friends talk about their special relationships with their grandkids. On the other hand, it’s pretty hard to conjure up a relationship with grandkids when I never had kids!
If I had it to do over again, I would make the same choices. I continue to enjoy a life enriched by a challenging and ever-changing career, wonderful
