Mrs Holt – upset, cranky and frustrated with what has become of her world. She's ended up in a nursing home and hates it. With only one small window to the world, and busy staff to keep her company, all Mrs Holt wants is to get back to 1966, when her life held meaning and she ruled the roost. 
 
Of course, she is not actually alone – her work-obsessed granddaughter visits every day, hoping that this will bring meaning to her life. Perhaps she will find what she is looking for in Mrs Holt’s new male nurse? Certainly Mrs Holt can't – she cannot understand why this attentive young man isn't her doctor. 
Mrs Holt – longing for the past, lonely in the present.

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I suspect like many people, I am uneasy about the prospect of growing old.  
 
This is partly because of the high probability of health deterioration. Ironically, the better our medical treatments get, the longer we live, and the more health complications each of us is likely to face. And I am fearful of having to spend my last weeks, months, or even years, in pain. 
 
But another disenchanting prospect is that as one gets older, it becomes harder to adapt to our ever changing world. And I don't mean the rapidly changing technologies, but the social structure that makes up the fabric of our existence. What is expected, what is valued, what is understood. One can become out of touch with the modern world, and feel alienated. 
 
I am sure that if I reach eighty years of age, I will look disdainfully on the younger generations with a "what is the world coming to" attitude. I will ask where decency has gone, and reminisce about the good old days. And I will be shocked, saddened, and disappointed at how things have changed. 
 
Of course, some things will be better. Much better. But not all 'progress' is good. Some change is actually regressive, and some, although it may bring benefits, comes with a hefty price-tag. 
 
And I will argue with my grandchildren about why it was better "when I was a lad." 
 
Welcome to one of those arguments.

 

James Scott