Arthur lived in a high crime neighborhood, so he built iron cages around his outside doors and installed bars on all windows. No one could find it easy to break in to Arthur’s house!

I met Arthur a few years ago, although you would hardly call our interaction meeting. When I arrived to deliver his meal, as part of Meals-on-Wheels program, Arthur barely cracked open his front door even though his cage clearly protected him. He refused to open cage door at all, so, to give him his meal, I had to angle box through bars. Without doubt, this maneuver scrambled hot contents of his boxed meal, but Arthur would have it no other way. He clearly feared me, a 100-pound woman, and everyone else.

I wish I could say that Arthur’s family came to his rescue, finding for him medical and emotional treatment he needed. I cannot. Arthur’s depression and paranoia compounded relentlessly, killing him at far too young an age.

Many elders live like Arthur, holed up in their own homes, barricaded against world. Who cares? Family and friends must care, and they must assume primary responsibility, acting before their elder’s condition rivals that of Arthur. We cannot shift this burden to our government. We cannot wish it away. Those among us lucky enough to have elders in our lives must shoulder responsibility of seeing that they do not succumb to depression.