When the silent speak up | Grace Ann Limoncelli | TEDxPhillipsAcademyAndover

When we're thinking about the future, maybe the first course of action is to ask the past. Grace Ann Limoncelli about how important connection is to our friends and relatives in nursing homes, as well as the ways we can act together to build a more empathetic world.

Grace Ann Limoncelli is a junior at Phillips Academy in Andover, MA.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx

"Now my charms are all o'erthrown,

And what strength I have's mine own ... "

Prospero in Shakespeare's "Tempest."

"Pardon me, sir.

I did not do it on purpose."

Marie Antoinette.

"Everything is an illusion."

Mata Hari.

What do all these lines have in common?

You might think nothing.

But all these quotes,
all of these pearls -

they're last words.

The first,

being from the Shakespearean
character, Prospero,

as he says his farewell to the theater.

And at least now,

they're seen as a sort of farewell address
from Shakespeare himself.

The second, being from Marie Antoinette

as she stepped to the guillotine
and had a scuffle with her beheader.

And the last, being the grim perceptions
of Mata Hari before her execution.

Last words have an almost
magnetic pull on us.

We often see them
as the ultimate little bits of truth.

These one-liners that we,

who haven't yet
experienced dying or death,

can come to live by.

But why?

Why do we look for our advice,
our mantras, our game changers,

all wrapped up into these
supposedly universal one-liners.

Generalized catchphrases
just can't capture

what it means to live
a good and unique life.

And what I really wanted to find here,

in the end,

when I finally took this journey
that I want to share with you -

it's not an answer

because I don't think there is one way
to have a worthwhile life,

but many different pathways you can take.

So I went on looking for a method,

a method to solve this great conundrum
we call a happy life.

And that's the conversation
we're going to have here today.

The match really struck me last year

when my great-aunt
went into a nursing home.

She's 63 years old,

and she's been a quadriplegic
since her early 20's

when she injured her spinal cord
in a motorcycle accident.

Watching her become
more dependent on others,

especially my mom,

after living independently for many years,

I had the chance to see loneliness
for the first time.

Truly, it's one of the most
terrifying things out there.

You see, nursing home residents
are far too easy to forget.

Most live isolated in their rooms
with little social interaction,

save a few check-ins from nurse's aides
and the occasional family visitor.

And because many
have physical disabilities

that make valuable
communication difficult,

it's often lost altogether.

When we think about our role in the world

and the larger impact that our generation
may have on a positive future,

talk often gets to blaming the past.

But, in a holier-than-thou mindset,

we lose sight

of the valuable relationships
we could form with our elders

to bridge the past,
the present, and the future.

Failures and victories alike
are opportunities for growth.

And we shouldn't have
to reinvent the wheel to move forward.

I searched for a few conversations

to start our journey
at my great-aunt's nursing home.

The residents shared their lives,
their thoughts, and their regrets with me.

The common thread through all
these stories was hope.

Every resident had something
that made their face light up.

And that passion,

that positive motivation,

that has the power to change the world.

Now I'm going to invite
a few classmates up here

to tell these stories.

Even though they are deeply personal
to the people who shared them,

now all these experiences are ours
to pass on and grow from.

Resident 1: a 99 year old
World War II Veteran.

Student speaker 1: "I was in the navy
three-and-a-half years.

I was very good.
I was in the Atlantic Ocean.

You know the Normandy Invasion?

First wharf.

On my ship, 318 people with the officers.

I'm the only one alive - 317 are gone.

I'm number 318.

All my shipmates are gone.

The first invasion in Normandy.

Eisenhower was my general.
I did pretty good.

I'm lucky to be alive.
I lost a lot of friends.

When we had the Normandy invasion,
the Germans were waiting for us.

We had our boys there too.
We did pretty good.

I'm lucky to be alive.

My second daughter -

I was in the navy -

first time I seen her, she ran in my arms.

She was 18 months. She ran in my arms.

'Daddy, Daddy!' Her name is Patty -

Patricia.

When I went in the navy,
my wife was two months pregnant,

and I was overseas 18 months.

When I came home, that's it.

She ran in my arms. That was good."

Grace Ann Limoncelli:
Resident 2: a hopeful creator.

Student speaker 2: "I'm glad to be alive.

Seeing people that's worse than I am,
I tell you, it's the hope to do better.

I wanted to create my life again
'cause I was living alone

and I wanted to get an apartment
and live alone again, but I didn't.

This isn't a bad place to be.

Without God, or the institution,
I'd probably be dead.

I thank God for this type of institution
that gives me a chance to live.

With a chance to do my family,
career all over again,

I just would live and be happy.

I want to be creative again.

I'm an engineer by trade,
an operating engineer."

GAL: Resident 3: my great-aunt.

Student speaker 3: "After I had
my accident, life moved very quickly.

You always were told
to adjust to this type of life.

That things were not going to be accepted,
but that you had to adjust.

And many people became very bitter,

very angry about what
had happened to them.

And I was just too busy,
and there was just never time

to stop and think
about really what had happened.

And so, I think what I would tell someone
would be to just keep moving forward.

There's some benefit to looking back
and remembering good memories,

and that takes a long time
for you to accomplish

because you feel both sad,

but you feel that they
were happy memories.

So you just take on this new chapter,

and you deal with it as,
hopefully, the best you can.

You continue either
on the road you were going on,

or you select another course
of action for your life,

and you choose that road.

But it's important
to continue to function,

to be a part of society,
to socialize, to meet people.

There's a whole life ahead of you
if you're injured when you're young.

I think you have to make sure

that you find something in life
to grab on to and to make you happy."

GAL: The ancient Greeks had this kind
of mystical reverence for oracles,

individuals who brought forward
the prophecies of the gods.

Oracles bore the responsibility

of speaking up for those
who couldn't speak up for themselves.

And for the most part,

communities listened,
responded, and took action

because of this valuable advice.

I don't think oracles are gone.

Prophets speak up every day
because no voice should be silenced.

No experience has the right
to dominate over another.

When we let our grandparents,
our neighbors, even complete strangers

who live in nursing homes be silenced,

we lose the opportunity to learn and grow.

Experiences may feel
like this deeply private adventure,

but those lessons we learn?

They're for everyone.

When we share and listen openly,

that's when we truly have the power

to stop making old mistakes
and start building a future

worth taking pride in, worth living in,

and worth growing old in, eventually.

Now is just the start,

and since every story
has its "once upon a time,"

I thought I'd share mine with you.

It began with an end.

Some of the last thoughts

of the incredible neurologist
and storyteller, Oliver Sacks.

He has been my muse -

my dearest wish for you is to find yours.

"And now, weak, short of breath,

my once-firm muscles
melted away by cancer,

I find my thoughts, increasingly,

not on the supernatural or the spiritual,

but on what is meant by living
a good and worthwhile life -

achieving a sense of peace within oneself.

I find my thoughts
drifting to the Sabbath,

the day of rest,

the seventh day of the week,

and perhaps the seventh day
of one's life as well,

when one can feel that one's work is done,

and one may, in good conscience, rest"

Thank you.

(Applause)