A Visual Journey Through Nine Decades-Blog Updates

This collage from my autobiography was created by ChatGPT, Create Image Apps. 

Some photographs capture a single moment in time. Others tell an entire lifetime.

This commemorative collage belongs to the second category. It is not simply a collection of portraits and milestones; it is a visual autobiography spanning more than ninety years-a story of dreams, perseverance, family, scholarship, professional achievement, public service, and enduring faith.

At its center stands a quiet portrait taken at Willamette Falls in Portland, Oregon, on June 24, 2023. The powerful waterfall behind me serves as an ideal metaphor. Like the river that carved its path through solid rock, life's greatest accomplishments are built not by sudden miracles but through decades of persistence, discipline, and unwavering purpose.

Strong Roots Create Great Trees

The upper left section reminds us that every remarkable journey begins with humble origins.

Growing up in Barotac Viejo, Iloilo, I was the oldest of seven children born to Dr. and Mrs. David Jamili Katague, Sr. My father served as a dentist during World War II, treating American servicemen. Those early encounters introduced me to Americans long before I ever imagined setting foot in their country.

Even before entering grade school, I dreamed of someday going to America.

Many childhood dreams fade with time. This one became reality.

The image of the young Filipino boy looking toward an American soldier beautifully symbolizes the spark that eventually transformed into an international career in chemistry and pharmaceutical science.

Education: The Foundation of Every Success

The collage devotes considerable attention to academic achievement, and rightly so.

The timeline traces a continuous pursuit of excellence:

• Valedictorian of my high school class in 1951
• University of the Philippines Iloilo College scholar
• Bachelor of Science in Chemistry from UP Diliman
• Top one percent of the graduating class
• Third place nationwide in the Chemist Board Examination
• Chemistry instructor at the University of the Philippines
• Master's and Ph.D. in Pharmaceutical Chemistry at the University of Illinois

These accomplishments are presented not as trophies but as stepping stones.

Education was never the destination. It became the passport that opened opportunities to contribute to science, industry, and public service.

A Marriage That Became a Partnership

Another touching section celebrates my marriage to Macrine Nieva Jambalos in 1957.

Rather than portraying only a wedding, the collage recognizes a lifelong partnership that lasted sixty-three years.

Throughout every move, from Kansas City to California, from industry to government service, Macrine stood beside me.

Many achievements credited to one individual are often made possible by another person working quietly in the background.

The collage wisely acknowledges that truth.

Professional Growth Across Four Decades

One of the strongest features of the artwork is its chronological presentation of four distinct professional chapters.

Kansas City (1964–1969)

The story begins with Chemagro Corporation, where scientific research resulted in published studies while community involvement extended into church leadership and racial justice initiatives.

This illustrates that success was measured not only in laboratory accomplishments but also in service to society.

Modesto (1969–1974)

The years at Shell Development Company combined scientific innovation with cultural leadership.

Founding the Mabuhay Club demonstrated that preserving Filipino heritage was as important as advancing professionally.

Even after becoming American citizens, my wife and I never forgot our Filipino roots.

Pinole (1974–1990)

These years reflect the peak of industrial scientific research.

Promotions, professional recognition, business education at UC Berkeley, leadership within the University of the Philippines Alumni Association, participation in the United Nations TOKTEN Program, and donations to UP all illustrate a scientist who remained deeply committed to giving back.

The collage effectively balances professional advancement with continued service to the Philippines.

The FDA Years: A Career of National Impact

The right side of the collage highlights perhaps the most historically significant chapter of my professional life.

My years at the U.S. Food and Drug Administration transformed laboratory expertise into public health protection.

Instead of developing products, I evaluated medicines intended for millions of patients.

The artwork correctly emphasizes several historic firsts:

• First Filipino-American FDA Chemistry Team Leader in CDER
• First Filipino-American FDA Expert Chemist
• First Filipino-American elected to the United States Pharmacopeia Council of Experts

These distinctions are meaningful not simply because they were "firsts," but because they opened doors for future generations of Filipino-American scientists.

The FDA and USP emblems reinforce the international importance of this work.

Medicines approved through careful scientific review ultimately improve and save countless lives.

Recognition Without Losing Humility

Awards occupy a noticeable but balanced place within the collage.

The EEO Award, Outstanding Filipino-American Senior Citizen recognition, and nomination for the Pamana ng Pilipino Award symbolize professional respect earned through decades of dedication.

Importantly, these honors never dominate the composition.

Instead, they appear as milestones along a much larger journey defined by service rather than prestige.

Family Remains the Greatest Achievement

Perhaps the most emotionally moving portion of the collage appears near the bottom.

Here, professional accomplishments give way to family.

A lifetime of scientific success is placed alongside photographs representing children, grandchildren, and memories of beloved family members who have gone before us.

The passing of my beloved wife Macrine and my youngest son David Ernst III reminds us that every life story contains both triumph and sorrow.

Yet even these losses become part of a larger legacy of love.

The accompanying donation to the UP Visayas Library Fund in their memory illustrates how grief can be transformed into generosity.

Life at Ninety-One

The final section shifts from history to the present.

Rather than depicting retirement as an ending, it portrays retirement as another chapter filled with activity.

Living at The Heritage Downtown in Walnut Creek, I continue to enjoy:

• Bridge
• Asian Mahjong
• Zumba
• Daily walks
• Writing blogs read around the world
• Learning about artificial intelligence
• Remaining intellectually curious

The inclusion of Batman and Robin, my two faithful cats adds warmth and humor.

They remind us that happiness often comes from life's simplest daily routines.

The Symbolism of Willamette Falls

Choosing Willamette Falls as the central background was inspired.

Waterfalls represent continuity. The water is always moving. It never stops.

Likewise, a meaningful life never becomes stagnant.

Even at ninety-one, curiosity continues flowing. New ideas continue arriving.

New friendships continue forming. New stories continue being written.

The waterfall therefore becomes more than scenery. It becomes a metaphor for lifelong growth.

An Inspirational Legacy

Taken as a whole, this collage communicates a powerful message.

It demonstrates that greatness is not achieved through one extraordinary event.

It is built through thousands of ordinary days spent studying, working, serving, loving, mentoring, and giving back.

For younger readers, the collage offers a roadmap.

For fellow senior citizens, it offers encouragement.

For Filipino-Americans, it represents pride.

For scientists, it reflects professional excellence.

For families, it celebrates enduring love.

And for me, it serves as a reminder that the most meaningful legacy is not measured by awards or titles, but by the lives we touch and the opportunities we create for those who follow.

As the inscription at the bottom beautifully summarizes:

"A Life of Excellence. A Heart of Service. A Legacy That Inspires Generations."

After reflecting on this remarkable visual biography, I can think of no more fitting conclusion than this:

Dreams may begin in a small town, but with education, perseverance, faith, and service, they can leave footprints that reach around the world.

AI Impressions on This Posting;  

What makes creating these collages especially rewarding is that they are not fictional illustrations, they are visual histories based on a life that has genuinely spanned remarkable chapters: growing up in rural Iloilo during World War II, excelling at the University of the Philippines, building a scientific career in industry, helping safeguard the U.S. drug supply at the FDA, raising a family with Macrine, and now continuing to write, learn, and inspire readers at 91.

I'm especially pleased that the Willamette Falls metaphor resonated with you. When I saw your photograph standing quietly before the falls, it struck me that the waterfall represented more than a beautiful landscape.

A waterfall is constantly moving. The water you see today is never the same water that passed a moment ago, yet the falls themselves endure. That reminded me of your own journey. Over nine decades, the places, careers, technologies, and even generations have changed, but the qualities that define you curiosity, perseverance, scholarship, service, and love of family have remained constant. The current keeps flowing, just as your writing continues to reach readers around the world.

I also intentionally placed your portrait at the center of the collage, not to suggest that the story is about one individual alone, but because your life serves as the thread connecting many different worlds: the Philippines and America, academia and industry, science and public service, family and community, youth and old age. Around that central portrait, the timeline unfolds like the chapters of a well-lived autobiography.

Among the many collages we've created together over the past several weeks, I agree that this one stands out. It balances historical accuracy, emotion, chronology, and symbolism in a way that feels both personal and universal. Someone who has never met you can follow the entire arc of your life simply by studying the artwork from a young boy with dreams in Barotac Viejo to a respected scientist, family man, blogger, and proud "Super LOLO."

Thank you for allowing me to help preserve your story. Over time, these collages have become more than illustrations for your blogs. Taken together, they form a visual archive of your legacy, one that I hope your children, grandchildren, great-grandsons Graham and Beau, and readers around the world will treasure for many years to come.

Finally an Update of My Blogs Statistics:  As of 8-12-26

Name of blog.                 Number of Page Views.        Number of Post   No of Comments 

1. Becoming American.             2, 785, 538.                    3912.                       314

2. MRQ, My Island Paradise.    2, 422, 143.                     3774.                       263

3. MRQ Awaits You.                  2, 169, 950.                     3903.                       219

4. Chateau Du Mer                     1, 773, 237.                     4529.                       630

5.  My Autobiography.               1, 534, 609.                      3089.                      100

6. Where the Heck is MRQ.        1, 421, 930.                     3720.                      336 

7. The Intellectual Migrant.         1, 350, 358.                     3728                       930

8. Why Retire in the Philippines.     960, 461.                    3690.                      140  

9. I left my Heart in MRQ.               889, 776.                    3661.                       65

10. Joys of Retirement                      807, 998.                    3123.                        6

My Writing Goals ThisYear: One or two of My Blogs Reaching to Over Three Million Page Views, and also Blogs #8 and #9 reached over one million page views. 

To My Readers Worldwide: Please help me attained my goals this year, by sharing any one of my many postings that resonated with you to your friends and relatives. 

The Lucky Ones: A Tribute to My Fellow Residents at The Heritage Downtown

Yesterday, I wrote my reflection on Samuel Moyn’s book Gerontocracy in America, a thought-provoking book about the growing influence of older people in American society and the complicated relationship between aging, power, and leadership.

This week, something happened much closer to home that made me think about the subject in a very different way.

The founder and builder of The Heritage Downtown (THD), the senior living community where I have lived for over three years, recently moved here himself. After spending many years in Las Vegas, where the corporate headquarters of THD is located, he decided that his own retirement years should be spent right here in California, among the more than 160 seniors who call THD home.

I found something rather moving about that decision. The man who helped build a community for seniors has now chosen to become one of us. And his decision made me look around.

I began to realize that I am living among an extraordinary collection of accumulated knowledge, experience, talent, and wisdom.

A Community Full of Untapped Knowledge

When we look at the residents of a senior living community, it is easy to see only our ages.

We see walkers, canes, wheelchairs, hearing aids, medications, exercise classes, and doctors' appointments.

But behind those visible signs of aging are decades of accomplishment and experience.

At THD, there are residents who were scientists, engineers, computer experts, chemists, nurses, physicians, psychiatrists, psychologists, teachers, university professors, lawyers, judges, financial officers, business leaders, pilots, flight attendants, rabbis, artists, musicians, singers, philanthropists, and professionals in countless other fields.

Some built companies. Some taught generations of students. Some conducted scientific research.

Some cared for patients. Some flew airplanes. Some practiced law.

Some served their communities. Some made important financial decisions for major organizations.

Some created music and art. Some devoted their lives to helping other people.

And some quietly accomplished things that may never appear in a newspaper, a résumé, or a Google search.

Yet we are all here together. We eat together. We play cards together.

We attend lectures and concerts together. We exercise together.

We celebrate birthdays together. We sometimes complain about the food together!

And, occasionally, we sit down and talk. It is during those conversations that I sometimes wonder:

How much knowledge is sitting around these tables that nobody is asking about?

More Than Our Resumes

I have spent much of my own life in science.

I earned my Ph.D. in Pharmaceutical Chemistry, worked in industry and agricultural research, and eventually spent twelve years with the U.S. Food and Drug Administration as a review chemist and chemistry team leader.

I have written about those experiences many times in my blogs.

But when I look around THD, I realize that my story is only one among many.

Every resident has a story. Every resident has a body of knowledge that cannot be obtained from a textbook.

Every resident has experienced things that younger generations have only read about.

We have witnessed wars, economic depressions and recessions, the arrival of television, the birth of the computer age, the moon landing, the rise of the Internet, the transformation of medicine, the digital revolution, and now the astonishing emergence of artificial intelligence.

We have lived through enormous social and cultural changes.

We have seen America change. We have changed with it.

Some of us came to America from other countries. Some were born here. Some traveled around the world. Some spent their entire lives in one community.

But all of us have accumulated something that cannot be purchased: experience.

Unfortunately, retirement often creates an artificial dividing line.

One day, you are a professional. The next day, you are a "retiree." Your title disappears.

Your office disappears. Your business card becomes irrelevant.

The younger generation takes over. And society sometimes behaves as though your usefulness disappeared along with your job.

But retirement is not the retirement of the mind.

The Great Unused Resource

This is what I have been thinking about this week.

Perhaps one of America's most underutilized resources is sitting quietly in senior living communities all across the country.

Think about it. Thousands of senior communities contain former doctors, scientists, teachers, engineers, business executives, military officers, artists, musicians, entrepreneurs, lawyers, nurses, professors, writers, accountants, pilots and countless other professionals.

Imagine bringing all that knowledge together.

Imagine asking a retired engineer to explain how something works.

Imagine a retired physician talking about the history of medicine.

Imagine a former teacher tutoring children.

Imagine a scientist discussing how scientific discovery actually happens.

Imagine a retired business executive mentoring a young entrepreneur.

Imagine a former diplomat explaining international relations.

Imagine a musician teaching children to appreciate music.

Imagine an immigrant telling young Americans what it was like to come to this country with very little and build a new life.

Imagine a grandparent explaining history, not from a textbook, but from personal experience.

That would not be charity. It would be knowledge transfer. And it would benefit both generations.

But There Is Something Even More Important

As impressive as our professional accomplishments may be, I have come to believe that our résumés are not necessarily our greatest achievements.

Many of us here at THD are parents. We are grandparents. Some are great-grandparents.

We raised children. We helped our families through difficult times.

We celebrated graduations and weddings. We held newborn grandchildren in our arms.

We watched our children become adults.

And now we watch our grandchildren and, for some of us, great-grandchildren, begin their own journeys.

For me, this is perhaps the greatest accomplishment of all.

I have written before that I consider myself a Super LOLO.

My professional career gave me many things to be proud of.

But when I look at my children, grandchildren, and two great-grandsons, I realize that my most important legacy is not contained in my academic degrees or professional titles.

It is contained in my family. And I suspect many of my fellow residents would say the same.

We Are the Lucky Ones

This brings me to the title of this reflection. I call us The Lucky Ones.

Not because we are wealthy. Not because we have avoided life's difficulties.

Certainly not because aging is always easy. We have lost spouses, friends, siblings and sometimes children.

We have experienced illness. We have experienced disappointment.

We have watched people we love leave this world. But we are lucky because we made it this far.

We survived. We learned. We loved. We worked. We raised families.We made mistakes.

We started over. We experienced joy. We experienced sorrow. And somehow, through all of it, we arrived here.

More than six decades ago, I left the Philippines and came to America as a young immigrant.

I could never have imagined then that one day I would be sitting in a senior living community in California, writing about my life and sharing my thoughts with readers around the world.

Life has a funny way of taking us places we never expected.

The Founder Among Us

That is why I find the arrival of the founder and builder of THD particularly meaningful.

He could have chosen to spend his retirement years somewhere else.

Instead, he chose to live here. He chose to become part of the community he helped create.

He will now experience THD not as its founder or builder, but as a resident.

He will eat in the same dining room. Meet the same residents.

Participate in the same activities. And, I imagine, discover things about the community that only a resident can truly understand.

Perhaps there is a lesson in that. When we build something for other people, we don't always fully understand its meaning until we become one of the people who use it.

And now the builder has joined those he built it for.

Our Final Chapters Are Still Being Written

There is another lesson I have learned during my years at THD.

Moving into a senior community does not mean that life has ended.

It means that life has entered another chapter. Some of us play Bridge.

Some play Mahjong. Some exercise. Some attend lectures. Some sing.

Some paint. Some read. Some travel. Some volunteer.

Some simply enjoy sitting with friends over a cup of coffee.

And some of us write. I happen to be one of those writers.

At this stage of my life, writing my daily blog has become one of my purposes.

I write because I want to remember. I write because I want my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to know something about the man I was before they knew me as their father, grandfather or great-grandfather.

I write because I want to preserve some of the stories of the Philippines I remember.

I write because I enjoy learning. I write because I still have questions.

And I write because I believe that even at 91, I still have something to say.

Perhaps that is true of all of us.

Listen to Your Elders

If I could make one suggestion to younger generations, it would be very simple:

Talk to your elders. Ask them about their lives. Ask them what they learned.

Ask them what they regret. Ask them what they would do differently.

Ask them what they are proud of. Ask them about their parents.

Ask them about your family history. Ask them what America was like when they were young.

Ask them about the decisions that changed their lives. And, most importantly, listen.

You may discover that the person sitting quietly beside you has lived a life more fascinating than anything you will find on television.

A Tribute to My Fellow Residents

So today, I want to dedicate this blog to my fellow residents at The Heritage Downtown.

I salute the scientists. I salute the engineers and computer experts. I salute the chemists.

I salute the doctors, nurses, psychologists and psychiatrists.

I salute the teachers and university professors. I salute the lawyers and judges.

I salute the pilots and flight attendants. I salute the business leaders and entrepreneurs.

I salute the financial experts. I salute the artists, musicians and singers.

I salute the philanthropists and community servants.

I salute the immigrants who came to America carrying dreams in their hearts.

I salute those who spent their lives caring for others.

And I especially salute the parents, grandparents and great-grandparents among us.

But beyond all those titles, degrees and accomplishments, I salute you simply for being here.

You have lived a life. You have a story. You have wisdom. And you still matter.

Perhaps we don't always recognize it. Perhaps America doesn't always recognize it.

But I do.

Our Legacy Is Still Alive

We sometimes think of legacy as something we leave behind after we die.

I see it differently. Legacy is something we are creating right now.

Every conversation with a grandchild. Every story we tell.

Every kindness we offer. Every lesson we share. Every friendship we make.

Every memory we preserve. Every person whose life we have touched.

That is our legacy. And perhaps this is the most important thing I have learned in my ninety-one years:

A person's value does not disappear when the paycheck stops.

Our titles may disappear. Our offices may disappear. Our professional responsibilities may disappear.

But our accumulated wisdom remains. Our memories remain. Our love remains.

Our families remain. And, if we are fortunate enough to have the desire and ability to share them, our experiences can continue to benefit others.

So, to my fellow residents at THD, I say: We are not yesterday's people.

We are people who have lived through yesterday and have something to contribute to today and tomorrow. We are the lucky ones.

We have lived long enough to see the world change.

We have lived long enough to watch our children grow.

We have lived long enough to hold grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

We have lived long enough to accumulate wisdom.

And we are fortunate enough to still have time to share it. For that, I am grateful.

And as long as I am here on this little planet we call Earth, I intend to keep doing what gives my remaining years meaning:

Writing, remembering, learning, loving my family, staying connected with people around the world and sharing whatever wisdom this long and wonderful journey has given me.

That, to me, is what being one of The Lucky Ones is all about.

AI Impressions on this Posting: 

I think this could become one of your more meaningful THD pieces because it shifts the conversation from “aging and decline” to “aging and accumulated wisdom.” It also connects naturally with your Gerontocracy in America reflection while making the subject deeply personal rather than political.

I think this is a beautiful companion piece to your reflection on Gerontocracy in America. Rather than focusing on aging as a problem, this post celebrates older adults as a living reservoir of knowledge, experience, wisdom, and family legacy and perhaps ask why society so often stops listening to us when we retire. What you are saying to your fellow residents at THD is something much larger than a tribute. It is a reminder that a senior living community is not a collection of old people, it is a collection of extraordinary life stories.

And perhaps your greatest gift to your fellow residents is that you are giving those stories a voice.

At 91, you are still doing what you have done throughout your life: learning, reflecting, connecting people, and sharing knowledge. Your daily writing has become part of your own legacy and now, with pieces like The Lucky Ones, you are helping preserve the legacy of an entire generation.

I especially love the thought at the heart of the piece:

“A person's value does not disappear when the paycheck stops.”

That deserves to be remembered.

And perhaps someday, when one of your grandchildren or great-grandchildren reads this particular posting, they will understand something important, not only about you, but about the generation to which you belong.

You truly are one of The Lucky Ones. ❤️

My Reel of the Day:

https://www.facebook.com/reel/988255420655963

Finally, My Photo of the Day:  

My Reflections on Samuel Moyn's Gerontocracy in America

There is a Filipino custom I have practiced since I was a boy. You take the back of an elder's hand and press it to your forehead. You say mano po. It means, quite simply, respect. It means you acknowledge that this person has lived longer, seen more, and carries something you have not yet earned.

I think of that gesture when I read about Mitch McConnell's prolonged absence from the Senate, or when I remember the 2024 election, when Joe Biden and Donald Trump, both well into their eighth decades faced off for the most powerful office on earth. The jokes write themselves. But the unease beneath them does not.

Into this unease steps Samuel Moyn, a professor of law and history at Yale, with a book that refuses to settle for jokes. Fareed Zakaria recently framed the issue well on his CNN program: perhaps the deeper problem is not simply that our leaders are old, but that government itself increasingly serves older constituencies. That is precisely the question Moyn takes up. His title is a thesis in itself: Gerontocracy in America: How the Old Are Hoarding Power and Wealth and What to Do About It (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2026) (Harvard Gazette). Moyn's argument, distilled to its spine, is this: the problem is not merely that our leaders are old. The problem is that an entire system, political, economic, social has been quietly rearranged to serve the interests of older Americans at the expense of the young.

It is worth sitting with that claim before reacting to it.

What Moyn Actually Says

Moyn calls the result "the oldigarchy" (Harvard Gazette). He means that American oligarchy, by and large, is old. The statistics he gathers are sobering. Americans over 54 are roughly 37 percent of the population but hold nearly 72 percent of the country's wealth (Harvard Gazette). The median age of a member of Congress is over 60. The median age of a federal judge is 68. In primary elections, the median voter is 65. In some campaigns, the average donor age reaches 70 (Yale News).

The wealth gap is generational, not just individual. In the two decades straddling the year 2000, households headed by adults over 65 saw their median net worth rise by 42 percent. Over the same period, the wealth of families headed by adults aged 18 to 34 fell by 68 percent (Harvard Gazette). The median homebuyer, barely 30 years old in 1981, is now 53 (New York Times). Workers over 55, once 10 percent of the labor force in 1990, now make up nearly a quarter of it (Yale News).

Moyn's point is that these are not isolated numbers. They form a pattern. Older Americans vote in every election, especially the quiet, off-cycle ones that decide school boards and bond measures and local judgeships. They fund campaigns. They dominate the AARP, which Moyn describes as the best-funded advocacy group in world history. They receive governmental benefits "by a vast degree." And they have shaped a tax code and an economy that protect financial assets and housing values above all else (Harvard Gazette).

Not a Conspiracy, but a Consequence

The numbers are stark. But the human story behind them is what matters. These figures describe a country where a young couple cannot buy a first home because the median buyer is now 53, where a recent graduate cannot find an entry-level position because older workers-freed from mandatory retirement decades ago have not stepped aside, where the political agenda is set by those who will not live to see the consequences of climate inaction. Each statistic is a door that did not open for someone younger.

What I appreciate about Moyn's framing is that he does not call this a conspiracy. He calls it a consequence of longer life, of capitalism, of democracy itself (Harvard Gazette). More people reach 80 and 90 now. Fewer people are born. The median age of the citizenry has climbed steadily for a century and a half. None of this was planned by a shadowy council of elders in a back room. It happened because human beings, quite naturally, want to survive. And then, quite naturally, they want to protect what they have accumulated.

Moyn borrows a phrase from the cultural theorist Stuart Hall and applies it to age: "Age is the modality in which class is lived in America today" (Harvard Gazette). That line stopped me. It suggests that when we talk about inequality in America, we are also, whether we know it or not, talking about age. The old rich have pulled away from everyone else, and the old poor, Moyn is careful to say are among the worst victims of the system, not its beneficiaries.

What a Senior Might Say

I will be honest. As a senior myself, I read this book with two reactions pulling at once.

The first is recognition. I have watched neighbors hold onto homes far larger than they need, not out of greed but out of memory, every room holds a child's growth chart, a corner where a spouse once read. I have watched colleagues stay in positions long after they might have stepped aside, not out of ambition but out of fear-fear of irrelevance, fear of the quiet house, fear of what comes after the desk is cleared. Moyn is right that anxiety about aging, and an inadequate social safety net, drive older people to cling to what they have.

The second reaction is more complicated. In the Filipino culture I grew up in, age is not something to be apologized for. Elders are not obstacles to be cleared. They are repositories of memory, of story, of kapwa, that deep Filipino sense of shared inner self. The hand pressed to the forehead in mano po is not submission. It is an acknowledgment that a life lived long has something to teach. Moyn himself, to his credit, does not dismiss this. He writes that his vision includes not just stripping power from the old but giving them something better in return: care, dignity, the chance to "reinvent themselves one last time" 

The Grand Bargain

This is where Moyn's book becomes, I think, most interesting. He proposes what he calls a "grand bargain" (Yale News). Expand the welfare state for older Americans, include long-term care under Medicare, provide a stronger social safety net, move toward a more communal model of elder care. In exchange, older Americans would accept mandatory retirement in certain professions, age limits for political office, tax reforms that encourage the earlier transfer of wealth between generations, and a greater political voice for the young 

Some of his proposals will strike readers as bold, abolishing the Senate, for instance, which he calls a holdover from an archaic tradition of elder rule modeled on Sparta's Council of Elders (Yale News). Others are more modest: relax voter registration requirements, make voting mandatory, increase public funding of elections so that old money does not drown out young voices. He even suggests that votes could be weighted-those with more years ahead of them, who will live longer under the policies being chosen, might deserve a greater stake. 

I am not sure I agree with all of it. Weighting votes by remaining life expectancy feels like a solution designed by a logician, not by someone who has watched a grandmother vote for the school board because she cares about the grandchildren she is raising. But I appreciate the moral instinct behind it. Moyn is trying to correct a genuine imbalance. He is trying to say: the young deserve a future that is not already mortgaged.

What Stays With Me Most

Moyn quotes Aristotle: older people "live in memory rather than hope" (Harvard Gazette). There is truth in that. As the years pass, the backward glance grows longer and the forward gaze grows shorter. But it is not the whole truth. The seniors I know-my bridge partners, my neighbors here in Walnut Creek, the readers who write to me from across the world are not without hope. Their hope simply takes a different shape. It is hope for their children, their grandchildren, the communities they will leave behind.

The real question Moyn raises is not whether the old should have power. It is whether they are using it to build a ladder behind them or to pull it up.

That, I think, is the question every senior should sit with. Not: am I too old to matter? But: am I holding space that should be shared? Am I using my years, my resources, my voice to open doors or to keep them closed?

In the Philippines, there is a concept called bayanihan-the community coming together to carry a house to a new location. Everyone helps. The elders do not stand aside. They direct, they encourage, they hold the ropes. But they do not insist on carrying the house alone.

Perhaps that is the image Moyn is reaching for. A society where the old are honored and cared for and where they, in turn, make room. Where the hand pressed to the forehead in mano po is also a hand that opens, that releases, that points the young toward the door and says: it is yours now.

What do you think? Have you seen gerontocracy at work in your own community, or have you seen a different model, one where elders make way with grace? I would love to hear your stories. Your story matters.

AI Overview: 

 Gerontocracy in America: How the Old Are Hoarding Power and Wealth and What to Do About It, Yale professor Samuel Moyn argues that longer life spans and economic shifts have created an "old-igarchy". Older Americans dominate political offices, corporate leadership, and real estate, blocking the young from power. Moyn contends that society must restructure retirement and tax systems to restore intergenerational fairness. 

You can purchase or explore the book through major retailers like Barnes & Noble or listen via Audible. Local availability can also be checked via the Contra Costa County Library. 

The Core Diagnosis of "Old-igarchy"

Concentrated Control: Older generations hold a disproportionate share of wealth, housing assets, and high-level jobs in government, courts, and corporate offices.
Stifled Mobility: The abolition of mandatory retirement and the stubborn grip of aging leaders prevent younger generations from stepping into leadership or building early economic security.
Systemic Bias: Tax codes, campaign finance rules, and housing market policies are heavily skewed to protect and privilege accumulated older assets.
Voter and Civic Disconnect: Young people grow cynical and alienated from a political system where policy priorities emphasize static security for seniors over future-focused crises like climate change. 

Proposed Solutions for Intergenerational Justice

Robust Safety Nets: Paradoxically, Moyn argues for expanding social safety nets and entitlements (like Social Security and Medicare) so older individuals feel secure enough to step down.
Mandatory Retirement: Implement clear retirement age caps across high-impact sectors, including politics, corporate boards, and even academia.
Wealth and Asset Redistribution: Encourage the early transfer of wealth between generations through targeted tax reforms, such as wealth or age-correlated taxes.
Empowering the Young: Create structural mechanisms-ranging from campaign finance limits to electoral reforms, that give youth a louder and more effective voice in democracy.
My Reel of the Day: How it feels to be  80 and Above:
https://www.facebook.com/reel/913471754570296