Stepping It Up with a Ninety-Two-Year-Old

An hour with my dad is a treat. But if you want a meaningful exchange with him, you’ve got to step up. Conversation, after all, rests on an agreement to cooperate—to work together to be mutually understood.

Those who knew my dad in his prime saw him as a communicator—clear, precise, courteous, thoughtful, and coherent. And at ninety-two, he’s still all of those things. Only some people can’t tell—the ones who don’t step up.

“He’s got a sharp mind,” I tell his doctors, “but rotten ears.”

And some of them adjust. They match my dad’s ears. And his brain.

Here’s how to make such a match:

• Assume he’s accumulated some wisdom. For decades now, he’s navigated difficult, complex, and uncertain life situations with aplomb. And with deliberate thoughtfulness.
• Avoid elderspeak, that singsong version of babytalk for seniors. Somehow, my dad’s got the sense that he’s a grownup and wants to be treated like one. Besides, he appreciates words like sweetheart and honey only from my mom.
• Keep your mouth visible. Don’t speak with your back turned or your head down or your hand around your mouth.
• Speak up, and speak clearly. Not only for the first sentence. Not only for the first word of a sentence. All the way through.
• Watch for evidence of understanding. At a puzzled look, say it a different way. A new consonant and vowel combination may help.

The other day someone came to see my dad. Someone young, who somehow understood.

“What a fun talk,” my dad said later. “And meaningful.”

This young person stayed for only an hour. Did he have a deadline? Maybe. But perhaps he was wise beyond his ears—understanding that bad ears make conversation a challenge and knowing when to stop.

“I hope,” my dad said, “that he comes back.”