High Rise Living

I was skeptical, when I made the move from the home where I’d raised my family to a high-rise senior community, that I would adapt easily to living up-in-the-air.  I'm not afraid of

heights—but I’d never lived anywhere above the third floor in a dorm or apartment—or a one-story home. The idea of not having the earth beneath my feet down a quick flight of steps felt alien, literally ungrounded.  And now I was living on the 23^rd floor!

A year later though, I’ve come to understand that in the right circumstances, elevators are an invaluable social crossroad. Initially, the elevator was just a conduit to life essentials, like the endless availability of coffee during the day to keep seniors alert—and access to helpful information, the post box, the outdoors, and beyond. But it quickly became clear that elevators are an optimal way to meet the interesting contingent of life-tested humans living here who make coming and going up-and-down useful for getting to know your colleagues in aging in gradual intervals.

It is rare, even if spanning 30 floors with multiple stops, for the elevators to be silent or trite.  The resident population here is by definition 62-100+.  We’ve all moved in with the expectation that this will be our final zip code and while we can migrate on to memory care or skilled nursing when needed—we are basically neighbors for time-left in a lively community.  The shared ethic is common respect for the fact we are all still alive and here in the present moment and hoping to arrive somewhere intended.

Unlike office settings, where elevators usually offer an odd, silent tension or an entertaining eavesdropping opportunity for local gossip or business-speak, the shared-domicile reality makes for efficiently meeting the conclave of residents, employees, extended family, pets, and innumerable delivery agents with an astonishing array of things.

In typical exchanges, compliments are paid or complaints voiced, sometimes to the general crowd (up to 15 occasionally, walking carts or market baskets included).  News flows readily among the passengers usually, going up or going down but riding silently is fine.

Sometimes it is an express to the first floor or your floor; other times it is the local with multiple stops and on-loading and off-loading of interesting things—a case of champagne, a small ladder, a cat in a carrier and a dog, not happy to be together, and two people dressed to play pool volleyball.

Oddly, now, I find the daily chance to level up or down a good way to change my mood or my perspective.