Aging in Place (with a Grab Bar in the Garage) A Grab Bar, a Walkable Town, and a Bucolic Dream: What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
Top 5 Reasons to Age in Place
1. Grab bars can be sexy.
2. You can have slumber parties.
3. You get to keep your snail-mail address.
4. You can keep going to the same gym.
5. You can start giving your things away now—and never pack them again. Ever.
Most Gen Xers I know want to age in place. We’re the DIY generation, after all. The idea of someone else—or worse, a system—telling us what to do and when to do it (“Dinners at 4:30?!” not happening!) is not part of our ethos.
But are we actually planning for it yet, especially if we’re not quite 60? Some might argue that the small town I live in, in Northern California, is not ideal for aging in place. Fires. Earthquakes. Floods. More like Armageddon in place. But everything is fine. Because I have a grab bar to protect me. True, it’s in my garage closet. But still…
When my partner Sandy and I remodeled our bathroom shower, I asked the contractor to put in the backing for a grab bar—at the correct ADA-approved height. He did. Perfectly. The logical question you might be asking: Why didn’t you install the actual grab bar? Great question! Some follow-up ones might include: What were you waiting for? An unsolicited AARP magazine? A slip? A fall? A dramatic moment involving paramedics? The simple answer is: Yes.
The remodel happened during a chaotic stretch in 2017—by then we had placed our three remaining parents into elder care and had front-row seats to what aging actually looks like. We had watched Sandy’s parents design and install a banister for three short steps in her childhood home after a near fall, following a recommendation from the local council. Yes, in Australia, the council will assess your home for aging in place. For free. Just saying.
But rewind a few years. In 2014, Sandy and I decided it would be easier to care for my mom if she lived closer to us in the Bay Area rather than Boston. (Check out “Rightsizing for Seniors” for the gory details.)
I had already traveled back east for her hip replacement, knee replacement, and hand surgery. Would this end? Probably not. Well…
On one of her visits, we suggested she move west to age in place. She agreed. She was turning 70.
We showed her options:
A small house in a slightly hippie town.
Mom: “Do I smell patchouli?”
Me: “Let’s try a different spot.”
A planned retirement community on a golf course.
Mom: “Why is everyone playing golf?”
Me: “Let’s try a different spot.”
A two-bedroom condo in one of the loveliest towns in Northern California, walking distance to the square.
Mom: “I can work with this.”
Me: “Sandy?”
Sandy (to the realtor): “Where do we sign?”
The condo had everything: a gym and pool across the street, a garage, a clubhouse, and a walkable town center with a grocery store, bank, library, cafes, hair salon, bookstore, ice cream shop—plus a walking path with outdoor sculptures. Because, you know, that’s how California rolls.
We renovated the bathroom first. The tub became a walk-in shower. Mom and my uncle (an engineering PhD) designed it together, sending sketches and specs. Sandy lined up the contractor. We greeted Mom—arriving in a wheelchair—and my sister with a sign: Welcome to California, Phyllis.
Then… reality.
The New Shower
The handheld showerhead was sleek and modern.
Me: “Mom, damn, that looks cool.”
Mom: “It does, but it’s too heavy. I can’t hold it.”
Bed Bath & Beyond
Me: “Why do you need four identical Pyrex measuring cups?”
Mom: “I’m not sure. Just in case.”
(BEAT)
Me: “Which drinking glasses—these or these?”
Mom: “Neither.”
Me: “You have to choose. I can’t take another day off work for this.”
Car Shopping (on the phone with my sister)
Why ship a rusted Boston car when you can afford a nice pre-owned California one?
Me: “What did you look at?”
Sister: “Toyotas, Hondas, Fords.”
Me: “Where did you land?”
Sister: “Where do you think?”
Me: “Camry? Accord?”
Sister: “Nope. She wants to look at more.”
Me: “Ugh.”
Furniture Store
New white couches meant new throw pillows.
Me: “These work. They match.”
Mom: “Let’s keep looking. There are more stores.”
Me: (checking phone, missed calls piling up, my life a distant memory, shopping for pillows that don’t exist my new vocation)
Washer & Dryer
Mom: “They’re too low. I can’t bend.”
Me: “What about the nice guy who works here?”
Mom: “Nope. He’s not speaking to me.”
Me: “Why?”
Mom: “I’m not sure. He stopped answering my calls.”
Me: “How often were you calling him?”
Mom: “Just when I needed something.”
I stood there, exhausted, loving her, losing patience, seeing the future arrive faster than expected.
Me (inside voice): Do not become your mother. Plan to age in place early.
And yet. Here I am. The grab bar backing firmly braced in the wall. The code-approved height is ready. The grab bar itself? Still in the garage closet. Waiting for the dramatic moment involving paramedics.
Aging in place isn’t about the dreamy walkability score or the artisanal ice cream shop on the square. It’s about installing the damn grab bar before you need it. It’s about making decisions when you are strong, not scrambling when you are not. And apparently, it’s about taking your own damn advice.
Excuse me while I go check on something in the garage.
dōte.worthy:
want to age in place? Advice for aging in place: Safely stay in your home as long as possible is a quick read.
have your kids moved out and you are a free bird and doing some renovations? Aging In Place Remodeling: A Checklist For Senior Homes has some good info.
ever thought about intergenerational housing? check out the innovative Heirloom Collective
anecdōtes:
Welcome to anecdōtes, our weekly writing prompt for those of us taking care of aging loved ones while simultaneously googling "am I having a midlife crisis or is this just Tuesday?"
This isn't about being a writer—it's about being human and sharing the messy, unfiltered truths of eldercare. Each week, we'll drop a prompt. You write for five minutes. No polish, no pressure—just permission to be gloriously imperfect. If you want to share what you wrote, send it our way and (with your approval!) we'll share it on our substack so we can all feel a little less alone in this wild mix tape that is our lives.
SEND TO: LNahmie@gmail.com
This Week’s Writing Prompt:
What’s something in your home that you’ve kept “just in case”? What case are you imagining?
Set timer for 5 minutes
GO!