During college, the median age of my friends was about 88. I hung out with them nights and weekends for three years. Sure, I got paid a whopping $4.25 an hour and worked a physically demanding job, but I survived by enjoying the connections I made with the residents and staff of the elder-care facility where I worked. Some 20 years later, when my mother moved in with me, she told me, “When the time comes, I want you to put me in a nursing home.” “Never,” was my response.