Elena Portacolone Research Published in Ageing and Society

Elena Portacolone (Elenaportacolone.com), noted researcher and lecturer on aging in America, is sharing her findings in the June issue of Ageing and Society, a Cambridge University Press academic journal.

Ms. Portacolone challenges the belief that elderly Americans living alone can only enjoy life if they are self-reliant and “independent”.  Her research on the hardships associated with living independently runs counter to conventional thinking and is rarely portrayed in the media.  The American elderly who live alone do not want to be a burden to others and fear moving to a nursing home As a result, they avoid assistance when they need it most – as their bodies, energy, and social circles decline, yet as income is fixed and healthcare expenses increase.

According to the U.S. Census in 2000, over 38% of Americans over 85 lived alone.  Researchers believe this percentage is increasing steadily because the U.S. population is living longer.
“Ms. Portacolone’s work in the field of older people living alone is cutting-edge and extremely valuable not only to me, but to the United States,” says Eric Klinenberg, author of the book Heat Wave.

The elderly do not ask for help because they feel like a failure if they do.  Shunning help, however, can lead to a precarious existence characterized by constant crisis.

“There are elders who are living alone, isolated, and chronically ill who risk dying helplessly at home alone.  Elena’s research offers ideas and solutions to hidden and chronic problems,” says Carroll Estes, Founder of The Institute for Health and Aging, UCSF.

Ms. Portacolone will be a featured speaker at the following conferences: 1) “Aging in America” (San Francisco, CA), 2) “Aging in Society (Berkeley, CA), and 3) “Society for the Study of Social Problems” (Las Vegas, NV).  She has been quoted in the San Francisco Chronicle.  Her dissertation, titled “Precariousness among older Americans living alone in San Francisco: Towards a sociological theory”, will be presented in May 2011 at UCSF.


About Elena Portacolone
Ms. Portacolone is a researcher on aging in America.  She holds two masters degrees in business administration and public health from the UC Berkeley.  She will receive a PhD in medical sociology at UCSF in June. More information is available at Elenaportacolone.com.

My Therapy

by Elena Portacolone

There is one life, live it to the fullest. James Pye, a 78-year old lanky man, hands me a visiting card with this motto at the end of my visit. An authority in African American history, last January he traveled for five entire days to Washington DC “to witness the inauguration of the President. That was great. I went there; I was there on crutches [he laughs]. And I was cramped up on a bus.”

His elongate face has a scar below the left temple, “It was an accident, trying to save somebody.” His brown darting eyes often make contact with mine; his full lips sometimes open to a boyish smile. A veteran, James is proud of his rigorous work ethic: “I have been in the military, working, and just teaching my kids to work. You didn’t sit down and do nothing.” Familiar with different political systems, James is well aware of the inequalities of the American one:

We have the highest living conditions in the world, but we’ve also the lowest. […] There’s a whole race of people that they kidnapped and brought over on the ship. […] And now, 400 years later, we’re in the same boat. We’re not in slavery, we’re not under the gun per se, but we’re not economical.

His struggle to get affordable housing hints to the hurdles to improve one’s living conditions. As tenant of an apartment in a Victorian building, James is afraid to be evicted once the 90-year landlady dies. At the same time, he has been waiting for nearly 30 years for an adequate public housing apartment in a safe environment. He says,

There was a lady, she was a lawyer. She said, “I can’t believe that you’ve been turned down that many times.”[…] She just stumbled into my case.

James searches in vain his apartment for a paper showing his eternal stand-by status. He walks through narrow paths carved between boxes, open suitcases, books, bags, and half-inflated party balloons, the lash of the oxygen cannula trailing behind his legs. Superimposed upon the fight for housing is his battle with cancer. A survivor of five heart operations, two back surgeries, and two low bowel surgeries, he explains that he contracted lung cancer “breathing asbestos trapped in the wall” of his ship during the Korean and Vietnams Wars. Where does James get all his strength? He says,

I recommend people, even if they are sick, take a walk or breathe some fresh air, or just get out and see something. Get out. Get out of your problems, your worries, and your situation. At some point, you know, God will help. That’s my therapy.

One of six stories on living alone in San Francisco published in Elena Portacolone’s monthly column in the newsletter of Planning for Elders -September 2010 – February 2011

Lay Down

My sense of directions abandons me when I look for Samuel’s home number. After a few turns in his street, I surrender.   I park my Honda and find my way on a sunny and windy early afternoon. As soon as Samuel unlocks the door to his one-bedroom apartment, he asks me where I parked. He then invites me to park exactly in front of his building as he already told me over the phone. Without a word, I turn on my heels, walk back to my car, and park it right beneath his living room. As soon as I turn off the ignition key, he gives me the thumbs up from the rectangular windowpane.

Back in the living room, I make myself comfortable on the couch, the back of my head against the window facing the street, my green car, and a young tree. Samuel sits on a wheelchair right in front of my eyes. He switches off the TV on the side. He is an 88-yearold veteran with a deep and infectious laugh and an unrelentless faith in God. Formerly married, he has been living alone for 40 years. In his hands, almost anything becomes either a sign of God’s will at work or a source of banter. For example the supreme cleanliness and tidiness of his apartment is a sure sign that he does not need to marry anymore since his outstanding home care worker takes care of him much better than any wife.


I ask him why he needs a wheelchair. The story of his falls and a major surgery reveals that when he fell, his next-door neighbor rung one of his daughters because she noticed that at night the light in the living room was on but nobody picked up the phone. His neighbor has always an eye on him. In his words:

“How you doing?” She calls me. And then, in the night, “Close your windows; close your shades.” She’d tell me that all the time.

Curious, I ask why he needs to close the shades. He replies:

Guys drive-by and shoot. I see guys, some of these guys, up here drinking, and using that dope. And they don’t care; they’re shooting at one another. They don’t have to be shooting at you. […] They don’t care who they’re shooting, they just be shooting. And some of them don’t know how to shoot.

Formerly married, he has been living alone for 40 years. In his hands, almost anything becomes either a sign of God’s will at work or a source of banter. For example the supreme cleanliness and tidiness of his apartment is a sure sign that he does not need to marry anymore since his outstanding home care worker takes care of him much better than any wife. I ask him why he needs a wheelchair. The story of his falls and a major surgery reveals that when he fell, his next-door neighbor rung one of his daughters because she noticed that at night the light in the living room was on but nobody picked up the phone. His neighbor has always an eye on him. In his words:

“How you doing?” She calls me. And then, in the night, “Close your windows; close your shades.” She’d tell me that all the time.

Curious, I ask why he needs to close the shades. He replies:

Guys drive-by and shoot. I see guys, some of these guys, up here drinking, and using that dope. And they don’t care; they’re shooting at one another. They don’t have to be shooting at you. […] They don’t care who they’re shooting, they just be shooting. And some of them don’t know how to shoot.

My ears suddenly become more alert to the sounds of the street. Samuel continues:

So I always hit the floor when they start shooting. That’s the best thing you can do, when they start shooting. Lay down. You can get hit anyway, but this is safer. Fall on the floor. You have all the bullets have to go through a lot of stuff before they get to you. If you open the window, the bullets will go through that easy.

Samuel tells me how much he usually enjoys looking at the tree outside, but his neighbor would then tell him “Stay out the window.” Maybe he learned from his guardian-neighbor to insist on the right spot where I should leave my car when he remarks:

“Just like I told you when you came in here, I said I be the one to guide you.”

[One of  six stories on living alone in San Francisco published in Elena Portacolone’s monthly column in the newsletter of Planning for Elders -September 2010 – February 2011 The project is part of the UCSF Community Partnership Initiative]