Tag: relationships

How Many People Listen to You

by James Wallace Harris, 10/2/25

It wasn’t until I couldn’t talk to my old friend that I became truly puzzled about a recent piece of advice. I lost Connell, someone I’ve known for 58 years, last April. I keep wanting to talk to him, but he’s no longer there to hear me.

My social media algorithms keep sending me various kinds of warnings about dealing with life in my seventies. A recent video told me people would stop listening to me. And, if I were a parent, I shouldn’t be shocked if my children stopped listening to me, too. What did that mean?

At first, I didn’t think that advice applied to me because I don’t have children, and I have lots of friends. I wasn’t even sure what they were talking about. I wondered if it was similar to how some of my older female friends talk about how men no longer look at them. Does becoming old make what we have to say unworthy of hearing?

I’ve always assumed I would be ignored when I got old. I remember when we were young, we’d say, “Don’t trust anyone over thirty.” Now I don’t trust anyone under sixty. Was the advice about that kind of age prejudice? Actually, moving into my seventies makes me distrust everyone of all ages.

The video said people would stop listening to you once you got into your seventies. What do I have to say that people would no longer care to hear? And why was it a warning? Were they talking about loneliness? And who wouldn’t be listening? And does that include me? Will I stop wanting to listen to other people?

Many of my family and friends became quiet as they got older. Did they say less because they no longer cared what other people had to say and stopped listening, too?

I often want to talk to people who have died. They can’t listen anymore. Is my desire to communicate with them revealing why I want people to listen to me? And what do I have to say that will make me feel bad if it’s not heard?

Mostly, we chit-chat in life. We find damn few people to converse with on a deep level. Was that what the warning was about? Was the warning suggesting that meaningful conversations will disappear?

As I get older, I feel I’m withdrawing from the world. Maybe the warning is suggesting that as everyone withdraws, we’ll stop talking to each other?

I remember an acid trip I had back in the sixties. I took a hit that I didn’t know was a four-way hit, and got rather high. I lost my sense of self. I felt every person dwelt in their own island universe. And that real communication wasn’t possible, and the best we could do was like tossing a message in a bottle onto the ocean, hoping someone would find and read it. I sometimes feel that getting older will be like that. Was that the warning?

Do we have a need to be heard that goes unfulfilled as we age?

Maybe someone older can clarify what that warning meant. Leave a comment.

Now that I think about it, I’m not sure how many people do listen to me. Oh sure, I converse with friends all the time. But that’s chit-chat. I have a few friends with whom I believe we resonate on the same wavelength. Was the warning telling me that those people will disappear in my seventies? That is a depressing thought.

I have one last theory. The older I get, the less energy I have to express myself. So I don’t make the effort. Maybe, if we don’t make the effort to send, we stop making the effort to receive.

JWH

What Situations Make You Feel Lonely?

by James Wallace Harris, 9/3/25

I spend most of my time alone, but I seldom feel lonely. However, there are moments when I do feel lonely. My old friend Connell, whom I’ve known for almost sixty years, has disappeared from my life. Whenever I think about how I can’t talk to him anymore, I feel lonely. That’s true for all the people I’ve known who have died or I’ve lost contact with.

One of the side effects of getting old is the sense of losing people and moving towards solitude. As Susan and I’ve gotten older, we talk less. There’s less need. But if she were gone, I would be very lonely. At least I think I would.

Loneliness appears to be related to having someone to talk to when you want to talk. That if we had nothing to say, we might not be lonely.

Several friends have told me they feel lonely at parties. I’ve experienced that. Being in a room full of people and having no one to talk to does make you feel lonely. But I’ve also been to parties, talking to no one, and been entirely content. What’s the difference between those two situations?

I’ve read that millions of people have found AI friends to talk with. Many even claim that such communication is better than they have with people. Is the inability to express oneself a cause of loneliness?

I once had a TIA in the middle of the night, where I had no words in my mind. I wasn’t afraid. I saw Susan in the bed next to me, but I didn’t have anything to say. I didn’t panic. I didn’t feel like I was missing anything. I went into the bathroom and sat. I just looked around. Looking back, I wonder if that is how animals feel? Eventually, the alphabet bubbled up into my thoughts, and then words came back. I began to name things like Adam.

I did not feel lonely then. Just a kind of serenity. Does language make us lonely?

In recent months, two situations have triggered a feeling of loneliness. I crave listening to music with someone, like I used to do when I was a teenager. Sharing music used to mean something. And second, I want to watch old movies with someone who also loves to watch old movies. This makes me think of social media and how people love to share things online. Is not being able to share things you love with other people a cause of loneliness?

Before I was married, I remember dating. Not having anyone was lonely. But sometimes having sex could be extremely lonely. There are moments in life when you get as physically close as two people can possibly get, and yet your feelings seem to be on two different frequencies. That feels very lonely.

There are times when I feel something that I want to share, but I don’t know anyone who would relate to that feeling. Or, I can’t find the right words to say to someone who might. Is expressing or sharing feelings related to loneliness?

One reason I don’t feel lonely is that I read books. I’ve been a lifelong bookworm. Should I have substituted books for people? Can anyone express themselves by talking as some people can by writing? Does listening to someone soothe loneliness? Either verbally or by reading?

This essay conveys an idea that came to me in the middle of last night. I doubt I could have verbally expressed my thoughts. It would take too long. An inability to verbalize our thoughts or feelings could be another cause of loneliness.

Having another person around might not be the only solution to loneliness.

JWH

How We Lose People as We Get Older

by James Wallace Harris, 7/6/25

I never knew my grandfathers. My father died in 1969. My grandmothers died in the 1970s. My mother died in 2007. All my twelve aunts and uncles have passed on. My sister, born in 1953, is still alive, but both her husbands and one son have died. Only seven of our twenty-four cousins are still alive. My wife, Susan, and I have known each other for forty-eight years, but we have no children.

Susan and I bought her parents’ house after they died. We hosted Christmas and Thanksgiving like her parents had for many years. As our nephews and nieces got married, they wanted to create their own holiday traditions. We stopped hosting holiday dinners. Since then, I seldom see people under sixty. I told one friend, who is 59, that she’s the youngest person I know.

Of the hundreds of people I knew in school, I kept in touch with only one person. He was my oldest friend whom I first met in 1967. I lost contact with him in April. I fear he is dead.

Before I retired, I had a large circle of friends at work. There were at least forty people I kept up with regularly. Twelve years later, I speak with one person every week on the phone, see another person about once a month, and text with a third person several times a year. All my other work friends have faded away. Several have died.

Outside of work, I’ve made many friends. Quite a few have died, but I’m still in contact with several of them, although that group is slowly shrinking. Of a group of six guys I hung out with in the 1970s, only two are still alive. I was born in 1951; only 72.8% of Americans born that year are still alive.

At seventy-three, I’m still quite social, but I realize that is changing. When I was younger, I assumed friends would only disappear when they died. But I’ve learned that many people have just drifted away. They got jobs in other cities, or they moved to a retirement community, or they quit driving, or withdrew from social life due to illness, or they moved away to be near their kids, or we just didn’t stay in touch.

Maintaining friendships requires effort. I thought being retired would give me all the time in the world to do everything I wanted. It hasn’t worked out that way. I have more time, but less energy and vitality. Aging means triaging friendships.

In recent years, I’ve often dreamed about the places I worked and all the people I knew in each job. I’d wake up from these dreams and lie in the dark and try to recall the names of all the people I knew in the job I just dreamed about. In the 1980s, I worked in a library for six years and got to know around twenty people. I’ve kept in touch with just one. But I really liked most of those people. Why didn’t I keep up with them? I know some have died, but what happened to the rest?

Over my life, I’ve had a couple of dozen good friends and hundreds of rewarding acquaintances. My sister once observed that we start out life in a room by ourselves with someone coming in to change our diapers, and we end up in a room by ourselves with someone coming in to change our diapers. She didn’t point out that we get to know hundreds of people in between.

Now that I’m on the downhill side of things, I’m experiencing a dwindling population of people I see regularly. I’m still making friends, but I fear they will only be acquaintances.

I’ve stopped driving at night, which caused me to see people less often, and for some folks, I’ve stopped seeing at all. Covid put a dent in my social circle. So did politics. Several people I once liked became unlikable after politics got so nasty.

People disappear for many reasons besides dying. Some for their reasons, some for mine. I need to make a greater effort to maintain my remaining friendships.

JWH