By Steve Moran
This article was inspired by my “Senior Living by Elon Musk” thought experiment
Walk into any senior living community in America, and you’ll see the same thing.
Dining rooms full of people in their 80s and 90s. Activity calendars designed for people in their 80s and 90s — or what much younger activity directors think 80- and 90-year-olds want, though I often think they don’t really get it. And the fact that these activities are poorly attended would suggest I’m right. (I want to add that this is not a condemnation of life enrichment directors but rather of the system and what is expected of them by leadership.)
Everyone is the same age. Everyone is in the same life stage. Everyone is marching toward the same ending.
We call this community.
I call it the most expensive loneliness money can buy.
How We Got Here
For most of human history, multiple generations lived together because that’s just how life worked. Grandparents, parents, kids — all under the same roof or in the same village.
Nobody thought about it. Nobody questioned it. It was simply how humans organized themselves.
And the research data confirms that even today, the thing that makes humans happy — from extroverts to introverts — is human connection.
Then America got wealthy. We invented retirement. We built suburbs that required cars. We created entire communities designed exclusively for “active adults,” or “independent seniors,” or whatever marketing term made age segregation sound like freedom.
And we convinced ourselves this was progress.
That giving older adults their own separate space, away from the chaos of children and the stress of younger people’s problems, was somehow dignified and respectful.
But here’s what nobody talks about: it’s killing them.
The Problem Nobody Wants to Name
I’ve moved family members through multiple senior living communities. Beautiful places. Great amenities. Professional staff. Everything the brochures promised.
And they were lonely as hell.
Not because the communities were bad. Because everyone there was facing the same losses, the same declining abilities, and the same awareness of time running out.
When everyone around you is 87, you’re constantly reminded that you’re 87.
When your social circle consists entirely of people who are also losing spouses, losing mobility, and losing independence — that’s not community. That’s a support group you can never leave.
What Actually Works (That We’re Ignoring)
In the Netherlands, several nursing homes offer free housing to college students. The deal is simple: live here, spend 30 hours a month with elderly residents.
Have dinner together. Watch movies. Talk. Help with technology. Just be present.
Students get affordable housing in expensive Dutch cities. Elderly residents get something no amount of money can buy — friendships with people who aren’t counting down their remaining years.
The residents become more active. More engaged. Happier.
The students learn things they’ll never get in a classroom.
This isn’t charity. This isn’t a program. It’s just people of different ages living near each other and forming relationships that benefit everyone.
You know, like humans have always done.
The Uncomfortable Truth About Senior Living
The entire industry is built on a premise nobody wants to examine: older adults are fundamentally different from everyone else and need specialized environments. This is partly right. They are different, but not nearly as different as these specialized environments would suggest.
They don’t need to live exclusively with their age group any more than 35-year-olds need to live exclusively with other 35-year-olds. In fact, can you imagine what kind of special hell it would be if society required all 35-year-olds to only live with other 35-year-olds?
Older people are actually much less likely to need to live with other older people than any other age group.
Because when you’re 35, your life is expanding. New career opportunities. Maybe starting a family. Building toward something.
When you’re 75 in a senior living community, your world is contracting. Friends are dying. Abilities are declining. The future is shorter than the past.
Surrounding someone in that situation with only people experiencing the same contraction doesn’t create community. It creates an echo chamber of loss.
What Integration Actually Looks Like
Imagine a building designed for people of all ages:
The ground floor has shared spaces. A commercial kitchen. Workshop. Maker space. A childcare area that’s not separated from an older people area, because children and older people actually enjoy each other when we stop keeping them apart. (If you need proof, watch me and my grandkids or any pairing of grandparents and grandkids.)
Upper floors are mixed. Studios for students. One-bedrooms for singles and couples of any age. Larger units for families. Everything designed for universal accessibility, but nothing that screams “institutional.”
Young people pay less rent but contribute time to the community. Older residents pay market rate or higher but receive support when needed. Everyone shares common spaces and daily rhythms.
A 25-year-old helps an 80-year-old with technology (more of a stereotype than I would like, but still somewhat true). The 80-year-old teaches the 25-year-old to cook their grandmother’s recipes. A retired teacher tutors kids after school. A young parent brings their toddler to the shared playroom, where several residents have volunteered for the morning.
And imagine the interpersonal wisdom. “I don’t know what to do when my baby won’t stop screaming.” “My girlfriend just dumped me; now what do I do?”
Not a program. Not a visit. Just neighbors living near each other, offering what they can, receiving what they need.
Why This Isn’t Happening
The barriers aren’t technical or financial. We know how to build accessible buildings. We know how to structure mixed-income housing. We know how to create shared spaces that encourage interaction.
The barrier is our collective belief that age segregation is normal.
Zoning laws effectively mandate it, and so do regulations. Financing structures assume it. Marketing reinforces it.
The entire senior living industry depends on it.
And families accept it because we’ve been told for 60 years that moving Mom to a “senior community” is the right thing to do.
But what if it’s not?
What Your Parents Actually Need
As an older person, I know what I want and maybe need. A compound — me and my wife in one house and my kids and grandkids in their own home right next to my home. Not elaborate, just the end of a cul-de-sac.
They/we don’t need a community center with better activities.
They don’t need a dining room with tablecloths and assigned seating.
They don’t need to live exclusively with people who remember the same historical events and share the same cultural references.
They need a 6-year-old down the hall who asks them to read stories.
They need a 30-year-old neighbor who needs advice about whether to take the new job.
They need to feel useful to people who aren’t their age. Who aren’t facing their challenges. Who still have expanding lives that could benefit from their experience.
They need to be reminded daily that age is just one part of who they are, not the defining characteristic that determines where and how they live.
The Honest Question
If living exclusively with your own age group sounds depressing at 75, why did we decide it was a good idea?
If you wouldn’t want to live in a community where everyone was exactly your age, why are we doing this to older adults?
The answer isn’t complicated: because we built an industry around it. Because real estate developers could charge premiums for it. Because it was easier to segregate than to integrate.
Not because it was better for anyone.
What Comes Next
Intergenerational living isn’t a radical new idea. It’s how humans lived for thousands of years before we got wealthy enough to segregate ourselves by age.
Models exist. They work. College students living in nursing homes in the Netherlands. Cohousing communities across the US where families and retirees share buildings. Multigenerational housing developments in several countries.
The question isn’t whether this can work.
The question is whether we’re willing to admit that 60 years of age-segregated senior living was a mistake.
A profitable mistake for the industry. A convenient mistake for busy families. A well-intentioned mistake by people who thought they were creating dignity.
But still a mistake.
Steve, another great article. My daughter recently lived in a studio apartment in Burbank, CA. It had originally been an apartment complex for seniors. Some of them remained. She told me how much she loved interacting with these older residents. It made her day. While it wasn’t a formal students/seniors set-up, it fostered a sort of organic interaction environment. But the interactions between the seniors and the young people really seemed to spark relationships, maybe casual ones, but still worthwhile. So, just a long way of saying that as a 71 year old, I applaud this idea. I could see myself in an apartment where next door is a 30-year old with his dog, above me is a college student having a party. All are signs of life, something we older folks covet now more than ever.
I could see myself living someplace like that as well.
I agree. Great article and thoughts. However, making it happen and making it work is not as easy as it sounds, particularly when one starts needing care. Villages help a lot with socializing, but when one needs care, they do not partner with organizations that provide caregivers and just tell one to move into a senior level community. There is no other type of place to move to which provides care. What’s your answer to this, particularly reading about constant struggle with providing the best to your father-in-law?
P.S. It would be great if a comment is posted.
This is really well written and envisioned. I think it is an excellent model and caregivers can be brought in as needed. If you have enough older adults in the community they can contract with caregiving agencies to assist with care.
At some point the cost of home care hours and assistance would exceed the cost and assistance at a senior living community for some individuals, and they might have to leave their diverse community to have their needs met. Until then seniors could a joy a rich life experience and spend less time in senior living.
At the time of the move, some seniors might not crave the hubbub of multigenerational life anymore and might be content to be in a quieter setting for most of the day. Everyone is different, but I believe the model can work. I’m happy to find partners to create one.