People entering their retirement can expect a shift from constant work to spending more time developing their creative talents. Many seniors spend their golden years learning how to paint, draw and make pottery at local art classes.

Dr. Gail Lowenstein, a geriatrician and concierge doctor serving the North Shore of Nassau County and the surrounding area, explained that once people retire, they tend to lose their sense of purpose and begin searching for something to fill the gap.

She shared the story of a man who lost his wife and started to paint. Even though he had never painted before, this gentleman had the urge to create artwork and donated it to local charities.
“He found his purpose, and it saved him and got him through a difficult time,” she said.

Throughout Manhattan, there are many places that give seniors the opportunity to embrace the art world by creating their own masterpieces.

For the past 10 years the Jewish Community Center in Manhattan, located on Amsterdam Avenue at 76th Street, has offered numerous art programs, including a class specifically designed for seniors. Elders learn how to paint and draw, with the use of still life and photographs.

Accomplished artist Gene Wiseniewski teaches the class and explained that the program is open to anyone over the age of 50, regardless of prior experience in painting. He also noted that some skilled painters use oil paint while others prefer acrylics.

The program has been a success for the past the few years, and is offered three times a year on Fridays from 1:30 to 4:30 p.m.

“Seniors are the best to work with, because they are very serious, but they also know how to have fun. They are very inspirational too,” Wiseniewski said.

Another location on the Upper West Side is the Art Students League of New York, which offers a range of classes for those looking to kick-start their creative impulse. For more than 100 years, the league has taught the language of art. Some of America’s most prominent artists have studied at this school, including Georgia O’Keefe, Norman Rockwell and George Bellows.

“Most of our 100 studio classes in drawing, painting, printmaking and sculpture include students ranging in ability from beginners to established artists and ranging in age from their twenties to folks in their seventies and eighties,” said Ken Park, the school’s director of communications.
For seniors who are interested in the arts but not necessarily in making art, they offer a seminar series that discusses classic art and artists through literature.

“Folks love the camaraderie and community of the League. Students learn not just from the professional artist-instructors but also from other students,” Park said.

Putting a spin on art classes is Mugi Pottery, located on Amsterdam Avenue between 108th and 109th streets, which teaches individuals how to mold clay while on a spinning wheel. Mugi’s adult classes allow anyone from the age of 16 and up, but many seniors enroll in the classes.

Offering classes for people ranging from 2 to 102 years old, the Art Studio NY, located on West 96th Street, provides unique painting and drawing classes in an intimate classroom. For beginners, the school offers basic classes such as Oil Painting 101 and Portrait and Figure Painting 101.

Whether it is drawing, painting or sculpting, seniors are exploring and enjoying different aspects of art. By doing so, they are not only learning something new, they are remaining active and continuing to live a healthy, vibrant lifestyle.

There’s sure a lot to roar about, says this often cowardly lion, when it comes to roaring, as Mike Wallace once did, “to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.”

Ah, if only he’d roared against age discrimination; maybe 60 Minutes would have kept him on to show the reality of old age, even for the rich and famous. “I don’t like being old,” he said at 87, ruefully noting hearing aids breaking down again and glasses being too weak to read well, etc.

Obituaries say almost nothing about elders’ last years, but how thankful I was to hear these words from journalist Chris Wallace’s moving tribute to his dad: “I just can’t imagine life without him.”

Almost nothing was said about Dick Clark’s life after his 2004 stroke, something most elders dread as much as Alzheimer’s or other brain failures. Although his speech was impaired, like most wealthy people, comprehensive and ongoing after care was available to him. My cousin Virginia’s severe stroke left one side paralyzed; with little speaking ability, I wonder why her speech therapy was dropped.

Ah, but Virginia does have the spousal and family care that money can’t buy—and how we must roar for this so essential form of caring that even the rich and famous may lack. In part, it’s because communication with a speech-impaired person is so difficult and our society doesn’t teach communication skills in general, let alone the special needs kind.

But hallelujah! The Church of the Epiphany on York has become the first church selected by the National Aphasia Society for its pilot program, which was introduced following last Sunday’s service. Potentially redemptive it is, and not only when speech is limited by stroke or other brain injury or failure.

Aphasia is defied as “an impairment of the ability to use or comprehend words, usually as a result of a stroke or other brain injury.” The Aphasia Society’s mission is “to assist both survivors and caregivers with support and guidance, to raise awareness of aphasia and to help people with aphasia, no matter how severe, reconnect with each other and the community.”

But these communication enhancers help everyone, said the two impassioned presenters, members of The Church of the Epiphany.

To be continued. For now, remember that losing the ability to speak doesn’t mean lost intelligence or human feelings. My dear cousin Virginia managed to convey feeling “so trapped.”

Ways to help “untrap” even the most severely impaired include asking questions with yes or no answers. Speak clearly and fairly slowly, but not as if speaking to a child. Be patient, smile and reassure. Use gentle gestures, Use music. Keep the environment quiet (hear that, Earth Day organizers?). Include those with aphasia in any group conversation. That’s my Share the Talk Club’s first commandment.

Always remember the survivors’ instruction sheet statement: “We are still the same person inside. We are adults. We deserve respect and dignity.”

Again, this applies to everyone with disabilities—not least those caused by aging and innate shyness, conditions that undoubtedly prompt this columnist’s above-average concern for these life and health-enabling communication skills.

So let’s start roaring for all that, by, well, sharing this column, and above all, contacting The National Aphasia Association at 350 Seventh Ave., Suite 902, New York, NY 10001. Call 1-800-922-4622 or visit www.aphasia.org.

Attention has got to be paid!

dewingbetter@aol.com 

“Wind gusts today accelerate the brush fire risk.” This was the Good Friday and first day of Passover morning radio weather warning.

For several years I’ve wished high wind gust warnings stressed the danger to walkers whose balance is not stable, especially in a city with a great many elders. Not that we can gentle the wind, nor should the vulnerable remain homebound, but we can (if enough of us try) make the able-bodied aware of this danger and routinely—yes, even gladly—offer a helping hand.

Whatever happened to Boy Scouts helping old folks cross the street? And how to revive Hubert Humphrey’s core belief that “the impersonal hand of government can never replace the helping hand of a neighbor”? But we must demand that government make streets safer to cross!

Shouldn’t faith groups be on the vanguard of advancing this down-to-earth, “love one another” type of helpfulness? There’s a lesson from Deacon Susan, who gave me a helping hand to and from the Madison Avenue Presbyterian Church Easter service. The intergenerational talk we shared was mutually helpful.

Here’s praying that this kind of helpfulness in one’s own congregation becomes even more of a norm—and in civic groups, too.

Incidentally, this column couldn’t be a stronger advocate for the worth and growth of faith and civic endeavors, but they’re never above needing some candid critiques.

And this whole society needs some consciousness-raising about those wind gust warnings, which last Friday were personally poignant because a valued neighbor had just died from complications resulting from a wind-related fall. And yes, Larry was “up in years” and suffered other health problems, but had it not been for the fall, he likely had, to quote poet Robert Frost, “miles to go before he [slept].”

Ah, and those many miles already traveled were surely enabled by Larry and Georgette’s sickness-and-health, 55-year marriage. Of course, his family will miss him most profoundly, but his neighbors will miss him keenly for his continued concern for the apartment house that in 1972 was converted from rent control to coop status.

Larry was one of the key tenant organizers who managed to get the asking prices significantly lowered. Non-evict clauses did not exist, and Mary, a Holocaust survivor, and widowed Helen, age 80, were among those who most reluctantly moved because they either could not afford to buy or feared future unaffordable maintenance hikes.

An original board officer, Larry was the kind of person that co-op and condo dwellers always hope to elect, one with extensive and common-sense business smarts and a genuine concern for the common good, like keeping down costs without jeopardizing the building’s integrity. This, he believed, kept the proprietary lease’s promise that “the primary purpose of the corporation is to provide homes.”

Although long off the board, his continued interest included letters to tenants recommending board candidates. Whatever the outcome, old lion Larry would at meetings roar (civilly, of course) for or against board actions. He also offered ideas and praise.

Larry and his family were good neighbors—truly neighborly. And don’t we need that.

We won’t forget you, Larry, nor will the building staff for which you had the greatest respect and affection.

And now—whew!—to keep advancing all of the above not-impossible dreams, which can be done if enough of us share them. I hope you will.

dewingbetter@aol.com

Making snowy and windy weather safe for the not-so-sure-footed means able-bodied people looking out for those are not. Related is Council Member Jessica Lappin, who is now head of the City Council’s Committee on Aging. Elder-related, too, is Mount Sinai School of Medicine’s Brookdale Department of Geriatrics and Adult Development, where its head, Dr. Rosanne Liepzig, is uniquely aware that “eldercare” requires the teamwork of doctors and patients’ families. She may even intervene when existing families don’t do enough.

And here’s to wearing visuals, like my “Smile!” cap and Minneapolis Star newspaper handbag, a wistful farewell tribute to the morning Star daily that was absorbed by the afternoon paper. If only those handbags had been given out earlier to save it. Editors and columnist must really beat that drum to save print newspapers. Ever wish the Internet hadn’t been invented? Maybe TV and non-
emergency cell-phoning too?

But no comments on my “Smile!” cap, or the Star handbag; when you’re innately shy and also can’t get around very easily, you can be overlooked.

Our Town named Matilda Raffa Cuomo East Sider of the Year, mostly for her mentoring and educational work with children. But I commend her for coming over during the OTTY event to talk to two white-haired women with canes who were standing against the wall for support. She gave us more than a perfunctory hello. So did two other OTTY recipients, Jeff Gold, whom we know well, and Marjorie Wilson, who somehow remembered me as a patient at Beth Israel North, where she volunteered.

The ceremony’s greatest applause went to Loretta Ponticello for decades of civic involvement, including her recent work in saving the Cherokee Post Office. But let’s hear more about this vigorous elder’s decades of looking out for elder residents in her no-doorman, walk-up apartment complex.

Civic friend and neighbor Ruth S. and I were fortunate to have a concerned doorman help us into a cab to the event. But we two cane-carrying elders found getting out at Mount Sinai, at East 98th Street and Madison Avenue, a bit scary, thanks to wind gusts and no doormen. As for getting home around 9:30 p.m., when three of New York’s Finest were heading for the exit door, I jokingly asked, “Hey, you wouldn’t have a police car outside, would you?”

“Nope,” they smiled and hurried off, not thinking these two elders could use help getting a cab. This column, incidentally, has always been a strong police supporter.

Yes, we managed, but not without some “boarding stress.” I’m also a white-knuckled cab rider who never seems to get the seat belt buckled. But unlike so many elders and otherwise disabled persons, we both have doormen to help us safely disembark and get into our lobbies.

Incidentally, I left a reproachful message on the 19th Precinct’s community relations’ answering machine. But consciousness needs to be raised, and to the fact that many elders’ fear of falling precludes their input at civic meetings and events held after dark. Lack of Internet access further disenfranchises.

Again, heartfelt thanks to all the OTTY winners for making this a more livable city. And thank you for suggestions on how to help overcome the commonplace but critical “oversights” I’ve noted here in this community weekly, which also needs our utmost support—and thanks!

dewingbetter@aol.com