This weekend, while doing some early holiday shopping at Macy’s, I found myself in line behind a white-haired woman using a walker, chatting cheerfully about the bargains she’d found and the gift card she planned to use. By chance, we ended up checking out side by side.

The cashier struggled with her gift card until a supervisor explained it was a new kind—purchased with a greeting card at a Hallmark store—and required an email address and internet access to redeem.

The woman quietly shared that she had neither. At age 94, she has macular degeneration and can no longer see clearly. I offered to redeem the card on my phone so the cashier could apply it to her purchase. When it worked, she thanked me with such sincerity that I felt grateful for the moment.

As she tucked her wallet away, I gently asked if she wore her purse across her body—I’d recently been reading about “jugging,” a growing trend in which people are followed from banks or stores and robbed as they enter their cars. She lifted the seat of her walker to show me where she hides her purse. Then she smiled and said, “Oh, I know all about that—I worked for Adult Protective Services.”

I stood there amazed. Even with significant vision loss, she carried decades of wisdom, strength, and service. We bonded over our shared work supporting older adults. I walked away in awe of her resilience.

My friend Flip is another example of breaking outdated assumptions about aging. At 81, he serves on our golf committee—attending Zoom meetings, offering ideas, and running the putting contest with a friend. He played 18 holes at the tournament and then emceed the awards banquet.

But what impresses me most is his physical strength. Each year, he volunteers to help load the materials for the tournament—this year, he hauled 16 huge boxes of golfer goody bags on and off a truck in pouring rain. Flip isn’t just active at 81—he is powerful. His strength, stamina, and spirit remind me that age doesn’t diminish what a person can contribute. If anything, he seems to gain more heart each year.

And then there’s Ron Peskin, owner of Brent’s Deli in Westlake Village.

Getting to know Ron over the past five years has been a master class in energy and determination. Many people see him at the host desk welcoming and seating customers, but fewer know what he did during the height of the pandemic—when he pivoted his restaurant to prepare Meals on Wheels for Senior Concerns, keeping his staff working while helping feed homebound seniors. Ron is almost 85 and still a vital, engaged contributor to our community.

None of these individuals see themselves as remarkable—but they are. Their lives show us that “ordinary” can be extraordinary. We talk so often about aging as decline, but these friends—94, 81, 85—are redefining what aging looks like.

Eighty isn’t an ending. It’s a stage of life filled with capability, clarity, resilience, and purpose.

They remind us that growing older doesn’t narrow life—it deepens it.