A few weeks ago, I knocked on the door of an 86 year old woman at the Mansion who I had never seen or met in more than a year of working there as a volunteer. An aide suggested that she might like to see Red, she spends most of her time in her room reading. I think she might be lonely, said the aide.

She was lonely, and depressed too, I think. And for good reason. Her husband still lived in her home and would not move to assisted care with her, she saw her grandchildren once or twice a month – they came for short visits, and were always eager to leave. She missed her church and her friends. Well, she said, I miss my life. She told me she was well treated at the Mansion, far better than she expected.

But still…”I  feel lonely here. I miss my cats, my neighbors, my own kitchen. I don’t control my life any longer.”

Psychologists say being a passive recipient of care in itself fosters loneliness and depression And she wasn’t yet even willing to venture out of her room, she often ate in her room. I told her I knew life in elderly care could be lonely, but I did see that people who joined in activities, drew on peer support, went on outings, did find pleasure and connection, I witnessed it.

I could see she was depressed. She had left everything she loved behind, and was adjusting to the loss of freedom and autonomy.

Researchers and doctors and aides all tell us that loneliness and depression are two of the greatest concerns in residential care for the elderly, from nursing homes to assisted and retirement living.

Typically, the treatment in elder care for depression or loneliness is medication, and what specialists call “light” social events, such as games, trips and social gatherings, all planed and supervised by staff or volunteers. I’ve seen that these activities do provide enjoyment for many of the residents – I remember the Boat Trip in the Fall, still being talked about, we’ll do it again in the Spring.

But much of the loneliness and depression in elder care facilities is beyond the reach of the staff or other residents. It has, I think, more to do with having lost so much of the meaning in their lives. Puzzles and trips can’t remedy that. It is, in fact, often depressing, to be at the edge of life, unable to stay in your own home with your own friends, neighbors and family, your own dogs and cats.

In our culture, the loneliness and sadness of the institutionalized elderly are noticed by staff, and sometimes by family, but the outside world doesn’t seem to want to know too much about life inside of elder care facilities. Doctors come and go, and write prescriptions, family comes occasionally but you will almost never read about the isolation people feel when they are shut away, out of sight and mind of the rest of society. We can prolong life, but we don’t seem to care  how it is lived.

I think the world treats the elderly in a paternalistic way, much as they treat small or helpless children. We change our voices, slow our speech, exaggerated our language. “People talk to me like I talk to my grandchildren when they were young,” one resident told me, “they don’t think we are very bright.”

I read one research paper that argues that “programs fostering engagement and peer support provide opportunities for residents to be socially productive, emotionally stimulated and to develop valuable social identity. I think the idea of peer support is interesting for me, but I also see that it’s easy to publish research papers, hard to carry out new programs in facilities that don’t have lots of money to spend.

Medicaid facilities like the Mansion don’t have lots of money to spend, although they tie themselves in knots looking for outings, interaction with the community and a wide range of activities. Activities are find, but they can’t offer meaning to people in assisted care.

I remember how important it was to Connie when she began making caps for new-born babies and people with kidney disease on dialysis. She was proud, engaged, alert and enthusiastic.

I see  how thrilled the residents are to rehearse for our skits. They simply light up, and feel useful.

Connue  had meaning in her life, thanks to the Army Of Good. in my volunteer work, i always listen for requests for tools for meaningful work. This week, i distributed two crochet kids, a score of notecards for eager letter writers, stamps for people who with to send messages to wildlife preservation or animal rescue organizations. And four mysteries and two books of poetry for enthusiastic readers.

Art has found new meaning in the intellectual stimulation he finds in playing chess with Tim. I’m getting him a chess set with Biblical figures. I think my job is to support the search for meaning.

The blog readers send hundreds of messages to Mansion residents each week, and I believe this has  greatly diminished some of their loneliness and a sense of isolation for many. They often tell me the stories in the letters they get, and see letter  writers as valued friends.

More than anything, they thank me for coming back again and again. Every time they see me, many assume they will never see me again.

You can help ease some of the isolation and loneliness that comes with aging by writing the residents c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue. Every day, Julie Smith, the Activities Director, walks through the halls delivering letters, it is an exciting time of the day now.

Here are the names of the residents who wish to receive your letters: Winnie, Jean A., Ellen, Mary, Gerry, Sylvie, John, Diane, Alice, Jean G., Madeline, Joan, Allan, Bill, John K., Helen, Bob, Alanna, Barbara, Peggie, Dottie, Tim, Debbie, Ben,  Art, Guerda, Brenda, Wayne, Kenneth, Ruth.

I’m thinking ahead to Easter and if you are so inclined, decorations, banners, gifts and messages would be wonderful.