PEOPLE
ALL
of older Americans.
Could you be one of them?
LONELY
THE
BY BRAD EDMONDSON
Crawford visits a store like this almost
every day. This one is his favorite because
the café stays open until 10 p.m. and the
security guard lets him hang out if he buys
something. Paying for stuff is not the prob-
lem. Crawford is employed. He is also fit,
well dressed, and well read. Other good-
looking, well-dressed people are also here
alone, slowly pushing carts of their own.
Most of them don’t seem to be in a hurry,
either, but Crawford says he usually doesn’t
make eye contact or start conversations. “I
don’t think we really want that from each
other,” he says. “Sometimes I think maybe
we despise each other, because we’re all
here instead of home with someone else.”
Crawford is lonely—but he’s not alone. A
groundbreaking AARP THE MAGAZINE survey
reveals that millions of older Americans suf-
fer from chronic loneliness, and their ranks
are swelling: Of the 3,012 people ages 45 and
up who participated in our study, 35 percent
are chronically lonely (as rated on the UCLA
Loneliness Scale, a standard measurement
tool), compared with 20 percent in a similar
survey a decade ago. Loneliness was equally
prevalent regardless of race, gender, or
education levels. Unexpectedly, though, age
does make a difference: Those who said they
are suffering most are not the oldest among
us but rather adults in their 40s and 50s.
Chronic loneliness, experts tell us, is an
ever-present, self-perpetuating condition
that pushes people away from the relation-
ships that sustain us and make us happy.
But the chronically lonely are not merely
unhappy—they are in danger. “Loneliness
has surprisingly broad and profound health
effects,” says John T. Cacioppo, Ph.D., direc-
tor of the Center for Cognitive and Social
Neuroscience at the University of Chicago
and a leading authority on the topic. There
IT’S LATE ON A WEDNESDAY NIGHT, AND FRANKLIN CRAWFORD, 52, is pushing a shopping cart around a 24-hour grocery store in Ithaca, New York. He’s found the bananas and cat food he needs, but as he roams the aisles he adds ice cream and other nonessentials
to his basket. “This is the meeting place, the agora,” he explains. “It’s
the abundance, the people, the bright light. It makes me feel good.”
