I was fortunate enough to spend two weeks in Nicaragua recently. These two weeks spanned the entire Winter Olympics period and while I was somewhat sad to miss out on this community making, city-defining event, while traveling dusty streets and sitting at airport bars I sort out my own Winter Olympics community – in the sunshine of another country.

Travel sometimes makes me melancholy. There is something about the silence and movement that’s almost meditative. Unless, of course, you’ve got to get a connecting flight in 20 minutes and then it’s more like a 1000-meter mad dash.

I like to walk in airports, especially when I’ve got a 6-hour layover and this trip I managed to cover Houston Airport 4 or 5 times over. I also like to find a bar and chat with people also going places. There is something deeply connecting about a 20-minute conversation with the guy having a beer on his way to San Diego, or a mother going home from seeing her grand kids in Dallas.

On this trip I had one of the loveliest and saddest moments with a fellow from California, whose name I never found out.

A Vet from the Korean War he came out of the conflict with one arm amputated and this day was on his way home from Fort Worth where he was having a prosthetic arm fitted. He was big and burly and at first I hoped he wouldn’t talk to me but as we chatted quietly he shared the loss of his wife and the stress and strain her illness had placed on him and his son. As we chatted he wept for her, quietly coping with her passing. He told me that his son was in Spain, taking a break and studying Spanish. A Mental Health professional his son has left his job to help care for his Mother in the last year of her life and the pause had given him time to reflect on life and work. The love and respect he felt for his son was evident and when he walked away 20 minutes later, I was sad that the big burly man had to get his flight.

Small but meaningful interactions like this remind me of the power of connection and community but in our aging society many of us will live alone and isolated in the last years of our lives. How we care for the aged, elderly, senior citizens (how clinical those names sound!) tells us much about the society we’ve created but also give us a pretty clear picture of the one we need to engender. The Daily Gumboot is but one example of people working to create connection and community and fingers crossed we’ll all grow old playing bridge together.

Since meeting him I’ve wondered about my friend and hope he has a supportive community around him. What will your community look like as you age?