“Do you consider yourself an 'old lady'?” Jane asked, a friend of mine for six decades. “Yes, I do,” I replied, sensing her surprise. Who really wants to identify as old?

Before I even hit 50, I started connecting with remarkable older women—my personal “old ladies.” Now, I find myself in that very category.

“Frederick just referred to me as his 'old lady,'” I told Jane, “and it felt wonderful.”

Once the initial surprise wore off, I embraced it.

This revelation struck during Frederick's 35th birthday party, where I was notably the oldest in attendance. His mostly younger friends teased him about hitting the big three-five.

“Fred has told us so much about you,” they remarked. “You’re that Melinda!” They were referring to the lively woman who once danced at Studio 54.

“Can you show them that photo of you?” Frederick asked. I knew the one he meant. Moments later, my phone was circulating among his friends, and I watched as they compared the youthful version in the picture to the woman I am today.

“Thanks for the great PR,” I remarked to Frederick, who was seated across from me.

“Of course! You’re amazing. You give me hope about aging!” he exclaimed.

With such kind words, who wouldn’t want to be labeled someone’s “old lady”—a term that signifies aging well?

The Charm of Older Women Jane and my other sorority friends enjoy hearing my stories about my “old ladies,” yet they resist identifying with the term themselves. I understand their hesitation; in a culture that often devalues age, few wish to see themselves as “old.”

To clarify, I don’t feel old, and I don’t behave as if I am. While it may take some imagination to see the young woman in the photo as the person I am today, my spirit remains youthful. Like my friend Marge, I still view the world with the curiosity of a 25-year-old.

But let’s be honest: at 78, I’m not exactly young.

Still, I feel fulfilled, perhaps more than ever. My writing continues to flourish, and I’ve gained confidence and self-acceptance. My relationships are stronger than they’ve ever been.

The guiding light of my old ladies inspires me. I observe their actions and how they navigate the terrain of aging that I hope to traverse someday. While it’s essential to connect with individuals across various ages, only those significantly older can offer insights into what lies ahead.

As the saying goes, forewarned is forearmed—Praemonitus, praemunitus.

“Knowledge of potential challenges allows for better preparation,” as stated by writingexplained.org.

My old ladies face the realities of life—wrinkles, aches, losses, and more. They don’t romanticize aging; instead, they persist and maintain their humor, living fully until their final days.

They motivate me to write about aging, not to lament it. This much I’ve learned: complaining about aging wouldn’t change anything.

If we’re fortunate, aging is a phase we all reach. As fellow writer Brian Dickens Barrabee reminded me, Jim Morrison famously said, “Nobody gets out of here alive!”

And if we’re very fortunate, we evolve into someone whom younger generations admire and wish to learn from.

Having a wise “old lady” or gentleman in your life increases your chances of aging gracefully.

How to Find Your Own “Old Lady” From my observations and the feedback I’ve received on my writings, I’ve noticed that many of you have wise older acquaintances—both women and men—who embody aging well. If you don’t yet have someone like this, I cannot stress enough how valuable it is.

Let me share how I…

• Seek out a “good” old lady
• Integrate her into my life
• Extract insights and wisdom from our relationship, despite age-related barriers
• Cope with the inevitable loss when she passes away

The Search: Identifying a “Good” Old Lady I met my first old lady, Henrietta, during a fiction-writing class at the New School. Initially, I didn’t intend to form a connection with someone older. In fact, I had ageist thoughts upon entering the classroom. Oh no, a room full of old people!

Then, I began to see them as individuals. Henrietta, 75, wearing thick glasses and using a cane, still managed to navigate New York City for her classes. Despite our age gap, writing provided a common bond. Her stories, rooted in her childhood experiences on the Lower East Side, resonated with me.

As time passed, I intentionally sought out older women. I developed a guideline: they should be 20 to 25 years my senior—a standard I’ve had to adjust as I’ve aged. In a decade, someone just a few years older than me might fit the bill.

However, it’s not solely about age. A woman in her late 80s or older is just entering the realm. Other qualities matter: she defies societal norms, embraces life fully, remains productive, possesses passion, and radiates wisdom without self-consciousness.

Keeping the image of a “good” old lady in mind, you’re likely to spot one during your everyday activities—at the grocery store, a doctor’s office, or even while traveling. Don’t hesitate to make the first move.

Also, don’t shy away from asking friends about any “good” older acquaintances they might know. I’ve been fortunate in this regard; my writing about these women has led to unexpected introductions. Recently, a stranger emailed me, urging, “You must talk to my mom.” I did, and she was right.

Connecting: Approaching an Old Lady Meeting someone new, regardless of age, follows the same principles. Reach out and find common ground—shared interests, the location where you meet, or something noteworthy about her. Share your story, and encourage her to share hers.

It’s not always straightforward. Personalities and cultural differences can clash. I almost didn’t connect with Lois, an energetic octogenarian, when we first met at a Smith alumnae gathering in Paris. Intrigued by her confidence, I knew I had to know more.

“Hi, I’m Melinda,” I introduced myself, launching into a whirlwind of information about myself. She looked confused by my fast-paced New York demeanor.

“I didn’t attend Smith…Christine invited me… I admire your apartment… I’m new to Paris… You seem fascinating. I’d love to grab coffee or lunch,” I said.

With Marge, the connection was easier; she’s a lifelong Manhattanite. Lois, an expatriate for over 50 years and originally from the Midwest, is more reserved than my typically outgoing American friends.

“I didn’t quite know what to make of you,” she later confessed.

Despite her initial hesitation, she shared her number, and that’s where our journey began. Still, it’s crucial to gauge your audience first!

Maintaining the Relationship Amid Limitations Your old lady may have physical challenges. Acknowledge them without hesitation. For instance, Marge uses a specialized hearing aid that requires professional maintenance. Knowing this, I ask questions such as, “When were the batteries last changed? Is this your better ear?” I adapt my communication accordingly—speaking louder and positioning myself on her better side.

Each of my old ladies has their favorite stories and jokes that I’ve heard multiple times. I suspect this repetition stems from a mix of memory lapses and comfort. Some may absorb less new information due to failing eyesight or hearing. Regardless, I strive to ask fresh questions each time, making our interactions more engaging for me while benefitting her mental and emotional well-being.

When an old lady experiences memory lapses, it can work to my advantage. She may not notice if I repeat myself! Such lapses can also diminish past misunderstandings. Recently, I reminisced with Lois about our first encounter. She smiled, and I was relieved to see she barely remembered my initial approach!

Many people avoid older individuals due to perceived limitations. As someone once asked me, “How can you spend time with an old lady? Isn’t it dull?”

Not at all! The secret is to choose the right person, cherish the joyful moments, and be present for the invaluable memories you create together.

In 2017, Marge, then 98, invited me to a production of Junk at Lincoln Center. Fiercely independent, she wasn’t shy about seeking assistance when necessary. I felt honored by her trust. I called an Uber for us, assisted her into the car, and provided her with an amplifying headset for the show. She held onto my arm as we navigated the venue.

Was the responsibility a bit nerve-wracking? Yes. But I felt privileged to share that experience with her. Years later, she recalled, “You know, that was the last show I ever attended.” I’m grateful I was there.

Coping with Loss I recognize that I will lose my old ladies; I already have. All relationships have an expiration date—whether due to fading interest or death. With someone in her nineties or beyond, time is always of the essence.

I understand this reality.

Yet, the final moments can often be identified only in hindsight. Thus, I cherish every interaction. I call, visit, and listen. Each time could potentially be our last.

My last lunch with Sylvia took place at a Miami Beach restaurant with an ocean view. She radiated excitement as she detailed her plans for Broadway shows and gallery openings upon her return to New York that spring. She passed away about a year later, just shy of her 98th birthday, still dreaming of her own birthday celebration.

The last time I spoke with Zelda, she began our conversation with, “Honey, I’ve got something for you. I think you’ll appreciate it.”

“Hold on, let me grab a pad and pen,” I replied, knowing it pleased her that I was taking notes.

“I realize,” she continued, her voice clear, “that there’s a time for making memories and a time for remembering.”

“I’m in the remembering phase now,” she said, without a hint of sadness, “and I’m grateful for all the wonderful memories I have.” She passed away a few months later.

Zelda was specific: she died at 104 and three-quarters. “At my age, you get to count quarters, dear.”

I miss Zelda, Sylvia, Henrietta, and the other old ladies I’ve lost, but they remain a part of me. I never truly “lose” them. It’s not just a cliché: loved ones, especially those who’ve touched your heart, remain alive in your memories.

As I write this piece, I can hear Zelda: “It’s not how old you are, but how you age.”

My old ladies guide me on how to embrace aging gracefully and remind me to be thankful that, at least for now, I’m still creating memories.

Perhaps yours will do the same for you! And then you can pay it forward and become someone else’s cherished “old lady.”

Contact me if you know a friend in her 90s or 100s who is aging gracefully and willing to share her story.

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