Aging Equals Opportunity for Forward Thinking Entrepreneurs

Every day for the next twenty years, an average of 10,000 people will turn 65. No matter how many times I hear or see that number, it’s hard to wrap my head around it. With 75 million baby boomers in our country today — defined as those born between the ages of 1946 and 1964 — a huge swath of our population is going through the aging process. And with that comes an unprecedented opportunity for entrepreneurs. I just attended the 2017 What’s Next Boomer Business Summit in Chicago, an annual gathering of entrepreneurs focused on the aging industry. The Summit is organized by Mary Furlong, an entrepreneur who is viewed as a mentor and godmother to aging-related start-up founders. According to AARP, the longevity market, as it’s called, accounts for $7.6 billion in economic activity. Realizing the gold mine of story ideas that can be found in this burgeoning aging beat, I’ve been attending the Boomer Summit for the past few years. Each year, the number of attendees has grown exponentially; there’s clearly an appetite for businesses related to aging. There are so many problems to be solved and innovators springing up to solve them.

What’s always been remarkable to me is the personal experiences that motivate positive change. Whether it’s someone who launched a ride service for seniors after his mother became isolated and housebound or a service to cook meals for seniors that took root after a founder’s grandmother could no longer prepare her own healthy meals, the businesses are often born out of a commitment to solving vexing problems related to aging. I’m not naive enough to believe these entrepreneurs aren’t also after profit, but at least the businesses seem to be founded on the principle of helping a vulnerable part of the population. I’ve latched on to this area as a journalist because it’s so clear that there are fascinating innovations happening in this space every day. And it’s not just in the traditional fields of health care. Technology developments have been a huge force. According to Aging in Place Technology Watch, there’s plenty of opportunity in this sector: the marketplace for technology to assist the many adults wanting to age in place is expected to grow from $2 billion currently to more than $30-billion over the next few years.

Jody Holtzman, AARP’s senior vice president of market innovation, speaking at the Boomer Summit said, “Addressing the needs of over 100 million people is called an opportunity.” I’ve written several articles about the plethora of new businesses being established to serve the crucial needs of Americans as they age, including this one and this one, both for CNBC. I look forward to continuing to track these extremely newsworthy developments over the next few years, as even more boomers (myself included!) continue to age.

 

 

“Here’s To the Ones Who Dream”

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My father, 19 years ago, with his youngest grandchild

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My three dreamers, on a recent vacation.

Each December, during the week between Christmas and New Year’s, my husband and I make a traditional trek to the movie theater, often several times. My goal is to see all the movies likely to be nominated for Academy Awards and the strongest contenders often are released during this time. Among the movies we saw this year was “La La Land,” an old fashioned love story and beautifully executed homage to old Hollywood starring Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling. As someone who grew up in a family of devoted fans of classic movies — especially musicals —  I found emotions rushing through me as I recalled those who have since passed away while I watched the film. The first person was my father, who died five years and would have so delighted in seeing this film. He and my mother shared a passion for movies that they passed on to my siblings and me. Their coffee table was adorned with a giant book about old Hollywood, with photos of significant movies of the century. As a young girl, I spent many hours thumbing through the pages, riveted by the photos of the glamorous movie stars. The second was my Aunt Anita, my father’s sister, a walking treasure trove of movie trivia. Just name a movie from any era and she could easily recite the main characters, plot and memorable lines. This talent was second only to her ability to identify the filling in the center of individual chocolates in a box of candy. My aunt so worshiped the movies that for one of her birthdays, my parents gave her the ultimate present: tickets to the Academy Awards. They relied on my mother’s brother, then an entertainment lawyer in Los Angeles, who passed away two-and-a-half years ago. He went to great lengths to secure the tickets for her, pulling every string he could. It’s no understatement to say that this experience was one of the highlights of her life. This feisty, 4 foot 10, woman traveled from her home in the suburbs of Detroit to Los Angeles, purchased a beautiful gown and ogled the stars as they walked down the Red Carpet. It was a dream that she could never have imagined coming true. My family members grew up cherishing the movies because, as storytellers themselves, they appreciated a well developed narrative. And musicals in particular provided an escape that allowed them — if even momentarily — to dream. I inherited that passion, so much that I performed in numerous amateur musicals, from high school through adulthood. And when I’m watching a great musical, I feel the presence of my father and aunt, infusing my spirit with optimism, amidst my sadness in missing them. “La La Land” was a temporary antidote to the pervasive skepticism I’ve felt these past few months. We see the optimistic spirit of two characters who pursue their dreams and succeed, despite all the obstacles in their way. My own adult children haven’t inherited my love for musicals, so I didn’t succeed in getting them to join me in seeing “La La Land”on our vacation together. They’re all nervous about what’s to come in the world. Even so, I see an optimistic spirit similar to that possessed by Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling’s characters. My children, too, dream of a happy future. They don’t hesitate to take risks to pursue their passions, even knowing things may not always go their way. In my mind, the lyrics of a song that Emma Stone sings in the song, “Audition,” towards the end of the movie was a tribute to them, and to my deceased father and aunt:

Here’s to the ones who dream; foolish as they may seem; here’s to the hearts that ache, here’s to the mess we make.

Here’s to a new year filled with optimism and the hope that we never stop dreaming.

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My Aunt Anita in 1991

My Message For Millennials: Turn Fears Into Action

The perils of working from home: I’ve been spending way too many hours on Facebook lately. Journalists like me are drawn to observing trends and behavior. And I can’t seem to pull myself away from the hypnotic morass of division and vitriol that has followed the Presidential election and that is playing out in Facebook posts. Never have I witnessed this level of emotion and discord, as well as fear. While Hillary Clinton may not have been the most inspirational candidate, for some of those voting for her, the alternative was frightening. And now, there’s speculation on whether those fears will be justified.

On a personal level, I’m concerned. My oldest daughter came out when she was 16. She was the subject of this article I wrote for Newsweek at the time. I was shocked by the hateful comments the article received from conservative bloggers, some of whom chastised me for not subjecting her to conversion therapy. But those pale in comparison to the hate that seems to have been unleashed throughout the election. Though Donald Trump says he is supportive of LGBTQ rights, he is a Republican. And conversion therapy is part of the Republican platform.

It’s been seven years since the article was published and my daughter graduated college three-and-a-half years ago. She’s now a community activist who fears not just for the LGBTQ community, but for many of the disadvantaged. I’ve been telling her, and her 19-year-old sister — who called me, sobbing the day after the election — that their generation can alter the course of history for the better. Though all my adult children voted, a factor in Clinton’s election loss was that millennials turned out for her in far fewer numbers than for President Obama in 2012. They may have been disgruntled because she didn’t inspire them the way Bernie Sanders did. Or they may have felt that she was likely to win, so their vote didn’t matter. That, of course, did not prove to be true. Under eight years of a Democratic President, complacency may have played a role.

I hope the surprise election results have had one positive outcome: instilling a renewed passion in the fight for human rights. The majority of young people who did vote cast their ballot for Clinton, according to this map. And millennials in coming years will make up a significant voting block. So to all the millennials out there, if you care about the state of the country, invest in it. Get to work now. Find your young, passionate, idealistic candidate who shares your ideals. Turn those fears into action. The future is clearly in your hands. For the sake of all of us, I hope your generation is already starting to chart a clear path to a better one.

Launched

Summer is ending and everyone is heading back to their respective lives, so I’m getting nostalgic about what it was like when my now adult children lived under our roof. Here is a blog I just wrote for The Huffington Post about missing my daughter and her friends. And these are my thoughts, below, about sending my son off into the world.

Thirty two years ago, the summer after I graduated from the University of Michigan, I eagerly stuffed my used Ford Escort with my scant possessions and drove 10 hours to Washington, D.C. to start my first job as a paralegal. The position was intended as a one year stint while I decided whether to pursue journalism or law school. Within a few months, I landed a job with a publishing company and ended up spending six years in our nation’s capital, where I fell in love with the vibrant city and began my life as a journalist.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I packed our 13-year-old van full of our son’s possessions and drove him to the identical destination the summer after he graduated from our alma mater. He’ll be starting a position with a federal program assistant teaching in a Washington, D.C. school. Though history is repeating itself in our family, it didn’t quite strike me until the long drive, where I had plenty of time to contemplate how the years since leaving D.C. had quickly flown by. My husband and I were newlyweds there. As we traversed the hills of Pennsylvania, I was awash with memories: the first friends we made who we’re still close with today; jogging in the sticky summers after work; lingering over dinners where we regularly split a bottle of wine; and riding the crowded metro to the mall for July 4th fireworks.

When my son was deciding where he should apply for jobs, I immediately suggested Washington, D.C. We hadn’t visited much since we left, so he knew little of it, but agreed it was worth trying. Once we headed there, staying with our long-time friends, he realized it was the right decision. He was immediately put at ease meeting his six new roommates, others in the same federal program. On the same metro we once rode, I pointed out all the young people surrounding us. We headed out to a hip restaurant in a revitalized area near the baseball stadium that was buzzing with excitement. I saw his eyes light up the way mine had when I first moved here so many years ago. Though I ventured here solo, not knowing anyone except one friend from college, he was able to have his parents accompany him, and see this city through our eyes.

This is our second launch. Our oldest child packed up her belongings three years ago and headed to the East Coast to start her new life. She attended college two hours away and spent the summers there, so the transition was slightly easier; we were more accustomed to life without her. Our son’s school is located near our house. Though he lived on campus with roommates, we saw him often. We could hear the door opening late at night when he stopped by spontaneously, desiring a cuddle with our cat or dinner leftovers. We could count on him to join us for birthdays and holiday dinners, or stop by whenever he needed the car. With our youngest heading back to her college in North Carolina in the fall we will truly be empty nesters without the occasional companionship of our only son.

When you drop your child at college, it’s difficult and heart wrenching to let them go. Still, there’s some consolation in knowing they’ll return home for holiday stretches and long summer breaks. College doesn’t substitute for the home where they were raised. But launching them after that is so much harder. We’ve already booked our son airline tickets to join us for Thanksgiving, and since the school will likely be closed for a winter break, I presumed he’d be back in December. My husband doubted it. “Washington, D.C. is his home now,” he said. Indeed, I realized that, though I wasn’t quite ready for it to be so. After parenting children for 25 years, I still like to think of our time apart as merely temporary.

I understand this phase is healthy, that letting go of your child is necessary and a part of life. But the separation is bittersweet. Those post-college years truly represent the end of childhood, when your parenting work is mostly done, your influence on their lives limited.

Two days after we returned from leaving our son, we received a text. “I love it here,” he said. It was gratifying to know that though we will miss him, his transition is going well. And just a few weeks later, I had a just as satisfying experience, when I ran into a friend at the bank, as I was transferring my son’s last month of rent money for his college apartment to his account. “You’re witnessing history!” I said to her and the bank teller, reflecting on what hopefully will be the end of our 22-year financial commitment to our son.

My husband and I are trying to take comfort in developments like that and in the meantime will cherish the remaining three years we have with our youngest on her breaks from college. As I watched her pack this week, she talked about the next time she’d be returning “home.” I smiled, grateful that she still views the place she was raised to be that home. I’ll take that, for now.

 

The Anguish of Reporting About Teen Suicide

In all the years I have been a journalist, the hardest interview I had to conduct was with a mother who had just lost her 16-year-old daughter to suicide less than a week before we spoke. As the mother of young adults, I could feel her pain as she sobbed into the phone, having to relive the horrific tragedy as she shared the intimate details of her daughter’s struggles. When tragedy strikes, journalists are often first on the scene. And it’s difficult to understand how we choose to pry into people’s private lives. But Cathy Housh, the mother of the teen, didn’t hesitate to speak with me. She realized that we shouldn’t be afraid to talk about suicide and that getting this subject out into the open will ultimately help to save lives. In fact, she’s made it her mission to push for legislation that will create programs to prevent it. I knew that reporting about teen suicide would be a tough sell for a woman’s magazine. And I applaud Good Housekeeping for running my article,  in the April, 2016 issue. But it was a long journey, one that started when I turned in the first draft one-and-a-half years ago. Advertisers, the major source of revenue for magazines, typically don’t like to wrap their ads around an article focused on such a dark issue. Instead of the article being highlighted in the editor’s column as I hoped it would be, it was buried at the end of the magazine, surrounded by an ad for Clump and Seal cat litter and a promotion for heart medication. It would be ideal if the women’s magazines would give these kinds of meaty topics a higher profile. Still, it’s a start. And I feel gratified that my piece ran in a publication with a circulation of 24-million. It may be enough to get the word out about a tragedy that is becoming far too common among our teens.

Resiliency In the Face of a 13-Year-Old

With the onslaught of articles on the perils of helicopter parenting, including this piece, and concerns that this will leave our children unable to forge on in the face of adversity, I was inspired to witness such strength and courage this past summer at the Bat Mitvah of a dear friend’s daughter. The world is a difficult place now. It seems there’s tragedy and unrest everywhere we turn, so to see this burst of sunlight, a young woman who gave me such perspective, was truly a privilege. I discussed the experience in this article that I wrote for The Huffington Post. As we go through our days, trying to maintain our sense of optimism and positive outlook, I think we could all do well to take a little of Mia’s spirit with us. I hope you enjoy the piece!

Male Boomers Realize Friendships Are Key to a Happy Life

As a journalist, I’m constantly observing the world around me, curious about what makes people tick. A never-ending source of fascination for me, as I’m sure it is for many people, is the factors driving longevity. People are living longer than ever. But what’s the recipe for a long life that’s filled with happiness? Research has shown that a big driver is social connections. Those who have meaningful relationships as they age tend to live longer, healthier lives. I was able to see this first-hand as I reported this Wall Street Journal piece on men finding friends after 50. This is an age when male friendships tend to wither while women’s continue to grow stronger. But boomers, never hesitant to act proactively for the sake of their own contentment, are actively joining groups to seek out male companionship. The results are particularly satisfying. It’s clear, based on those I interviewed, that these relationships have enhanced their qualify of life while promoting both physical and intellectual engagement.