Recently, a friend shared something with me that quietly broke my heart for him.

His wife has advanced Alzheimer’s. She lives in a care community now. She no longer recognizes him. Their conversations are brief. Sometimes she smiles at him the way she might smile at any kind visitor. Their shared jokes, their history, those knowing glances across a room — those things are gone.

And yet, he still visits. Still pays the bills. Still advocates for her care.

He is, in every way, a devoted husband.

He’s also lonely.

I recently had a routine dental visit turn into something much bigger.

What began as a simple replacement of an old filling quickly escalated into a crown - $450 out of pocket - followed by pain when I drank cold beverages, and the unwelcome news that the same tooth now required a root canal. That procedure alone cost me another $725, paid directly to an endodontist. And I’m not finished yet. I still need to return to my regular dentist to permanently fill the opening in the crown - another out-of-pocket expense waiting just around the corner.

I’m fortunate. I have dental insurance and access to care, and I am working so I can pay these costs. And even so, I found myself wincing - not from the procedure (which was surprisingly painless), but from the bill.

I recently attended a gathering of local nonprofit CEOs to talk openly about the unprecedented challenges our organizations are facing today — from tightening budgets and workforce capacity concerns to the growing needs in our communities.

While the conversation surfaced many real and pressing challenges, there was also a bright and hopeful theme that emerged: the opportunity presented by Baby Boomers.

The United States is currently experiencing the largest retirement-driven workforce transition in its history. Millions of Boomers, born between 1946 and 1964, are reaching age 65, and many are retiring or shifting away from full-time work through 2029. This demographic shift, while challenging for many sectors, presents a meaningful opportunity for nonprofits.

I’m going to begin this column with two simple, everyday observations, both shaped by my experience as an older adult navigating our community. One happens behind the wheel. The other happens on foot.

Let’s start with driving.

My dry cleaner, bank, and coffee shop are all in the same strip mall. It’s a familiar spot, with parking on both sides of a narrow roadway running through the middle. I’m careful when backing out of a parking space before turning to leave, but even so, I often find myself hitting the brakes as a car speeds past behind me or a pedestrian suddenly appears in my path while I’m in reverse.