Zelda was 92 when she first approached me on the tennis courts, intrigued by my presence. I was astounded to learn she continued playing doubles until the age of 99. Her response to my admiration was playful: “Oh, you can’t call what I play tennis,... but I manage to return the ball!”

Whenever friends from the Northeast visited, I hosted dinners in her honor; she was my cherished companion in Florida. While many Snowbirds might suggest outings to local attractions or famous eateries, my guests simply had to meet Zelda.

She never failed to entertain. Alongside her cheeky standards—songs, poems, and humorous sayings—she had an arsenal of jokes about aging. One of her favorites went like this:

"Two old friends, Bob and Ernie, were sitting on a bench at a Miami bus stop. After a moment of awkward silence, Bob exclaimed, 'T-G-I-F!'

Ernie replied, 'S-H-I-T.'

Confused, Bob asked for clarification, and Ernie explained, 'It just happens to be Thursday.'"

I chuckled every time Zelda shared that joke, even repeating it myself. It’s a gem—easy to remember, especially for someone like me who often forgets jokes. Yet, I wonder if the “ageist police” would reprimand me for sharing it.

What’s the real issue with ageism?

Although the term ageism was coined by Robert Butler in 1969, it took time for society to grasp its implications. In 1990, gerontologist Erdman Palmore published his first paper on the topic, noting that many people still hadn’t heard of it, and research was scarce.

In 2001, Palmore created a scale to identify blatant and subtle instances of age-related discrimination. One item stood out: “Told a joke that pokes fun.” (You can find all 20 items of the scale here.)

What if an OLD person shares a joke about aging—like forgetfulness?

In 2015, Palmore revisited his research on ageism, emphasizing the need for continued vigilance. The core reason? If you’re fortunate enough to live long enough, you’ll face it too. Unlike sexism or racism, which target specific groups, ageism affects everyone as they age.

Palmore argues that ageism is a civil rights concern, which should not be accepted in a fair society. Having experienced my own share of ageist remarks, I assure you, it’s not pleasant.

My commitment to combating ageism extends beyond personal experience. Challenging this widely accepted prejudice may help ensure a safer, healthier, and more inclusive future for my children and grandchildren.

A Worthy Fight

Recently, the New York Times highlighted a surge in anti-ageism initiatives fueled by two decades of gerontological research.

Negative stereotypes about aging, absorbed unconsciously since childhood, can reduce our lifespan by as much as 7.5 years, according to Yale psychologist and epidemiologist Becca Levy. Her extensive research, including her new book, Breaking the Age Code, reveals that ageism impacts physical and mental health significantly, affecting longevity.

This is a compelling reason to stay alert, isn’t it? But how do we recognize and address ageist attitudes and behaviors, many of which are hidden? And how do we navigate the complexities of perspective?

Perhaps it’s acceptable for someone as vibrant as Zelda, who nearly reached 105, to joke about the forgetfulness that comes with age.

Zelda never let herself dwell on being “old”—whatever that meant—until her mid-nineties. With a sharp memory and a love for humor, she crafted her own material, performing routines for family and friends, whether at home or during casual gatherings.

During casual conversations, she’d often contribute an amusing anecdote relevant to the topic. If you shared a story about your dog, she’d recount the one about the Chihuahua that practiced karate.

When my grandsons visited Florida, Zelda was close to 100. I felt anxious about how they would react to someone “that old.”

My worries were unfounded. Within moments of meeting, she entertained them with funny songs and cheeky jokes about aging. The youngest still recalls a poem where Zelda humorously turned her back and recited:

“The golden years can kiss my ass!”

Perhaps Zelda earned the right to make light of aging. It’s similar to how some marginalized groups reclaim slurs. Yet, I’m unsure about that analogy.

At 78, I might be old enough to share an old-person joke too. Still, I might start filtering Zelda’s jokes. Is it sufficient to acknowledge that they reflect a bygone era?

As I delve deeper into the pervasive nature of ageism, my wiser self—the inner old lady—advises me to seek alternative sources for humor.

Revisiting Old Relationships

This reflection was sparked by thoughts surrounding Mother’s Day, considering how aging alters our perceptions of those close to us—particularly our mothers.

It’s beneficial to reassess any close relationship—whether with a child, parent, sibling, friend, or partner. Each subsequent look reveals new insights shaped by experience and time.

In reflecting on Zelda’s jokes, I find myself missing her presence. No ideology or heightened awareness can replace that feeling.

We never discussed ageism; I wasn’t fully aware of it in my sixties. I suspect if she were here today, she’d be eager to combat it alongside me.

The battle against ageism is neither swift nor simple. It’s a cunning and well-entrenched prejudice. However, if my words can make a dent in its defenses, I’ll feel accomplished.

And that’s no laughing matter.

If you dare to explore more about ageism:

When Are You Old Enough to Understand Ageism? The last allowable prejudice may also be the most challenging to confront. How ironic that it’s the one that ultimately...

Have You Unintentionally Internalized Ageism? Every read serves as a reflection. This one might reveal something about yourself—and your future.

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