On Mel's day off yesterday, we visited a couple of branches of the Ottawa Public Library. I had forgotten how peaceful it can feel to meander through a library, then sit down with a book pulled at random from a shelf. Such was the case yesterday when I walked by a stack and a book at the end of a shelf caught my eye. It was Successful Aging by neuroscientist Daniel J. Levitin, author of This Is Your Brain on Music, which I recognized from my husband's collection.

In the time I had available, I managed to peruse the introduction of Successful Aging. Levitin starts by saying that he used to associate aging with failing: failing bodies, failing minds, even failing spirits. But as he has gotten older himself and spent more time with people in the last quarter of their lives, he has seen a different side of aging. His parents, for example, are in their eighties but are engaged with life, enjoying social interactions, getting out into nature and even starting new professional projects. Levitin notes of his parents:

Where certain faculties have slowed, they find that extraordinary compensatory mechanisms have kicked in—positive changes in mood and outlook, punctuated by the exceptional benefits of experience. Yes, older minds might process information more slowly than younger ones, but they can intuitively synthesize a lifetime of information and make smarter decisions based on decades of learning from their mistakes. Among the many advantages of being old, they are less fearful of calamities because they've been dealt a few in the past and managed to work through them.

I was struck by Levitin's more positive perspective on aging than his initial view of getting older. While his parents' experience of improved mood and outlook may not be universal among older folks, it does reflect what I see in many of the people around me. As they age, they become more selective about what they spend their time doing, with whom, in what locations, at what time, and for what purpose. This ability to choose—something I am enjoying myself several years into retirement—seems to be one of the most significant advantages of aging. It reminds me of the difference between high school and university: in helping to prepare students for a wide range of possible career paths, high schools offer more standardization and less choice, whereas universities allow students to specialize in areas of greatest interest to them. When we can focus on subjects that align with our interests, we can experience greater satisfaction. As I have transitioned from school to work to retirement, my ability to choose the who, what, where, when, why and how of my life has increased considerably and, with it, my happiness.

Levitin argues for a very different vision of old age, one that sees the elderly as a resource rather than as a burden and aging as a culmination rather than as a denouement. Levitin asks:

So what can we do to maintain strength of body, mind, and spirit while coming to terms with the limitations that aging can bring? What can we learn from those who age joyously, remaining vital and engaged well into their eighties, nineties and beyond? How do we adapt our culture to service the needs of aging generations while also taking greater advantage of their wisdom, experience, and motivation to contribute to society?

While I don't have the answers to all of Levitin's questions, I do think an important step we can all take is to simply be interested in what older people have to say. What stories do they remember and what might we take from their experience to inform our own choices? What do they like—what are their tastes in music, food, the arts? What difference have they made in their lifetimes, and what more can they still contribute now?

And as someone aging myself, it's incumbent on me to find ways of continuing to make a difference in the world. Doing so will not only keep my mind sharp but also maintain a strong sense of purpose. Putting myself out there requires a fundamental belief that I have something of value to offer. I do—from my career, to my writing, to my lived experience as a two-time cancer survivor, to name just a few.

The time I spent in the branches of the Ottawa Public Library yesterday reminded me that libraries are not old, quiet locales for ancient books, but vibrant spaces where people of all ages can hang out, learn and continue to grow. Perhaps libraries could play a role in bringing different generations together to learn from each other in mutual respect for abilities, value and experience.