A Celebration of Active Aging
Monday marked the official start of Active Aging Week 2026. I’m not sure how many iterations there have been, but hopefully many more will follow.
To help celebrate, I created a series of spots for the Ontario Senior Games, showcasing four athletes’ stories in depth, with the goal of encouraging greater participation among seniors. Here is one of them:
The rest can be seen here: https://vimeo.com/showcase/12429413
But here’s the full story (there’s always a story behind the story):
It’s August 24th. I write to the OSGA (Ontario Senior Games Association) about this idea I have, unsure if there’s a real need or want. But Vince replied. My passion was evident.
At the same time, my grandma was not doing well, which the doctors had attributed to lack of self-care. Growing up, there were lots of memories of swimming at her pool, but there was also the memory of her not going in after 65. In fact, all of my grandparents stopped doing the things they loved at a very early age, which I attribute to the stigma at the time. Meanwhile, I had turned 40 and found myself in the same camp! I wasn’t active anymore and I was feeling it. I all but stopped going to the skatepark, but when I did go, Roger was always there. Roger was in his 50’s, a teacher, and still dropping in on a vert ramp! As I stood at the bottom, I looked up and thought, it would be kind of a cool concept if you started close on his eyes—with a few wrinkles and visible grey hair. Like no one thinks this guy is dropping in on a 20 ft ramp. But as you zoom out, he puts on his helmet and flies out of frame. Just like Evil Knievel. . .or maybe, just like Roger.
Like most creative, you start with a strong vision—and it’s hard to imagine it any other way. I started with a script. In this case, a swimmer in her 70’s or 80’s standing on a wooden pier at dawn. It’s a late summer morning and it’s cold so we can see her breath (and eventually the steam coming off of the water). *Maybe because it would look more cinematic. We start close on her eyes, leaving us (the audience) unsure of her circumstance. She’s isolated from the soft focus of the background, but as the camera pulls back we see more of the surrounding environment. A voice over begins, from an interview with our senior swimmer. She reflects on the things she’s heard over the years: “You’re too old. . .It could be dangerous at your age. . .What do you have left to accomplish?” A pause. She continues: “That’s what they say. But not me. The more I swim, the better I feel.” And eventually the shot is wide enough that we see her dive in and swim out of frame. All in a “oner” — a one shot reveal that plays with our preconceived notion of age (and therefore ageism).
I wrote a number of scripts during this nascent phase, all framed around doubt. There’s an actual phone call where a son questions his father for scheduling a boxing match at 60. Family members telling Roger to quit skateboarding. But when working with real people, the best work doesn’t force your version of the truth onto reality. It has to be authentic to people’s experience or your audience won’t remember it in the first place. And that requires patience. Like with any passion project, I knew what I was signing up for. You don’t have the support or resources to make great work fast. And therefore, you have to ignore the pressures of “standing out” in a saturated, hyper-competitive, and overly-manufactured landscape.
In the end, I think what I sacrificed in seeing, I gained in feeling. It resonates with its participants, and as a result, I believe it will resonate with its audience. . .people like me, who saw themselves aging out of playing sports and wondered why? People who have grandparents who used to be great athletes but stopped playing because they thought they were too old.
I can’t help but to think about the 81 year-old Japanese man who skateboards every morning (and is good). A man who found joy in the challenges of picking up something new at that age (it CAN be scary). Or Roger. . .who never sees his next injury as a sign to call it quits. So pick up that phone (yes, make an actual call) and ask your grandfather why he stopped playing basketball at 22? Maybe he’ll want to join you at the gym next time.
Your grandparents are never too old. And neither are you.