USA: My Days With Morris - Friendship With A Centenarian

EVERYDAY HEROES: By Daniel Shoer Roth MIAMI, Florida (Miami Herald), October 14, 2007: The lines on his face that testify to a century-long walk though life seemed to present an obstacle to people who couldn't understand the reasons that drew Morris Rosen and me together. On a sunny spring afternoon, I invited Morris to an art exhibit in Coconut Grove. I insisted that we borrow a wheelchair. But Morris, a centenarian with more energy than most young people, didn't like the idea very much, though I finally persuaded him. As we passed through the galleries, the people watching us smiled. ''Are you taking your grandfather out for a walk?'' a woman asked. ''He's a hundred years old,'' I answered. ''He's your great-grandfather!'' she exclaimed with admiration. ''No,'' I said in a tone that created more uncertainty. I paused and then explained, ``We're friends.'' In a world in which the young don't make an effort to know any senior citizens besides their grandparents, and sometimes not even then, my relationship with Morris has made me think about the journey on the Time Machine that much of my generation, out of ignorance, is missing. His phenomenal memory allows him to recreate the street of the shtetl where he lived in Lomza, Poland, and his sense of humor -- so picaresque that during his 100th birthday party the microphone was taken from him because his jokes were too risqué -- has captivated me more than any book, movie or newspaper article. Morris is extraordinary. He has no time to think about his health, for instance, because for the past year, he's been occupied with his biography, Ghetto Roots. In it he narrates colorful details about his life, interwoven with the history of Eastern European Jews. ''I've forgotten where my doctor lives,'' he claims with a mischievous smile. Every afternoon, he sits in front of the computer in his apartment in Sunny Isles Beach to revise the Yiddish and English editions that he wrote in his 90s. ''Now I have better ideas than ever before, much better,'' he declares. The more I've gotten to know Morris, the more curious I am to discover how a person his age can be so full of life. ''I don't have a secret,'' he confesses. ``When you live to be a hundred, you get a lot of practice.'' Yet he insists he's not old: ``I don't believe the calendar reflects your age.'' • Friendships with younger people represent a window of learning for senior citizens, a breath of fresh air. ''How do you know what to write about every day?'' Morris asks me. ``Where do you get your ideas?'' Conversations like this, among myriad other topics, have marked the first year of brotherhood between a 100-year-old Polish Jew who left his country at the age of 22 in search of a better future in the Americas, and a 31-year-old Venezuelan Jew who left his country at the age of 23. Our lives have intersected thanks to Two's Company, a program run by Jewish Community Services of South Florida that pairs volunteers with clients who are senior citizens in need of companionship. The organization put us together because we are both writers. Most elderly individuals who look for company through the program live under the shadow of loneliness, which, along with heart disease, is among the top health problems faced by the million of those ages 65 and over who live in Miami-Dade, Broward and Palm Beach counties. As a result, explained Carl Eisdorfer, a professor of psychiatry who directs the Center on Aging at the University of Miami, older people, especially those who live to 100 and beyond, have a high probability of suffering from depression and run the risk of malnutrition and the loss of mental energy, unless they are very disciplined, as Morris is. Census investigators calculate that nearly a third of the population aged 65 and over live alone -- a situation often accompanied by loneliness, a sad nostalgia that causes a lack of connection and a feeling of rejection by the rest of society. This ostracism makes many want to withdraw into their shell forever. Approximately every 83 minutes, a person aged 65 and over takes his or her life in the United States, according to data from the Institute on Aging in San Francisco. The risk of suicide is higher in this age group than in any other, the Institute finds. By establishing bonds with the generations following them, the elderly feel more connected to the community. For young people, it's an opportunity to learn. ''Many young people don't feel comfortable around old people who aren't their grandparents, unless it's within a professional context,'' Max Rothman, executive director of the Center on Aging at Florida International University, told me. ``The elderly are not part of their social environment, and there's also an underlying fear of aging.'' Although Morris feels lucky because of his long life, turning 100 has also increased his loneliness. ''All my friends have died,'' he says while looking at the floor. With the exception of a daughter who lives in his building -- the rest of his family is spread across the country -- and the volunteers who visit him, Morris spends the day accompanied only by his memories. That's why it's difficult to describe the enormous smile he has when I visit. ''I don't believe you're younger -- you're the same age as me,'' he says with a trace of sarcasm. ``Age isn't that important when it comes to a true friendship.'' When it's time for me to go, he becomes sad. I always come close to tears. ''Thank you very much,'' he says as he closes the door to his house. ``You're so good to me.'' ''No, thank you,'' I answer. ``You're the one who's good to me.'' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is adapted from a column that appeared on July 11, 2005. © 2007 Miami Herald Media Company.