The aftermath of floods, hurricanes and other disasters can be hardest on older rural Americans – here’s how families and neighbors can help
Hurricanes, tornadoes and other extreme weather do not distinguish between urban and rural boundaries. But when a disaster strikes, there are big differences in how well people are able to respond and recover – and older adults in rural areas are especially vulnerable. If a disaster causes injuries, getting health care can take longer in rural areas. Many rural hospitals have closed, leaving patients traveling longer distances for care. At the same time, rural areas have higher percentages of older adults, a group that is more likely to have chronic health problems that make experiencing natural disasters especially dangerous. Medical treatments, such as dialysis, can be disrupted when power goes out or clinics are damaged, and injuries are more likely around property damaged by flooding or powerful winds. As a sociologist who studies rural issues and directs the Institute of Behavioral Science at the University of Colorado Boulder, I believe that understanding the risks is essential for ensuring healthier lives for older adults. I see many different ways rural communities are helping reduce their vulnerability in disasters.
Disasters disrupt health care, especially in isolated rural regions
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, about 20% of the country’s rural population is age 65 and over, compared with only 16% of urban residents. That’s about 10 million older adults living in rural areas. There are three primary reasons rural America has been aging faster than the rest of the country: Young people have been leaving for college and job opportunities, meaning fewer residents are starting new families. Many older rural residents are choosing to “age in place” where they have strong social ties. And some rural areas are gaining older adults who choose to retire there. An aging population means rural areas tend to have a larger percentage of residents with chronic disease, such as dementia, heart disease, respiratory illness and diabetes. According to research from the National Council on Aging, nearly 95% of adults age 60 and older have at least one chronic condition, while more than 78% have two or more. Rural areas also have higher rates of death from chronic diseases, particularly heart disease. At the same time, health care access in rural areas is rapidly declining. Nearly 200 rural hospitals have closed or stopped providing in-patient care since 2005. Over 700 more — one-third of the nation’s remaining rural hospitals — were considered to be at risk of closing even before the cuts to Medicaid that the president signed in July 2025. Hospital closures have left rural residents traveling about 20 miles farther for common in-patient health care services than they did two decades ago, and even farther for specialist care. Those miles might seem trivial, but in emergencies when roads are damaged or flooded, they can mean losing access to care and treatment. After Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans in 2005, 44% of patients on dialysis missed at least one treatment session, and almost 17% missed three or more. When Hurricanes Matthew and Florence hit rural Robeson County, North Carolina, in 2016 and 2018, some patients who relied on insulin to manage their blood sugar levels went without insulin for weeks. The county had high rates of poverty and poor health already, and the healthy foods people needed to manage the disease were also hard to find after the storm. Insulin is important for treating diabetes – a chronic disease estimated to affect nearly one-third of adults age 65 and older. But a sufficient supply can be harder to maintain when a disaster knocks out power, because insulin should be kept cool, and medical facilities and drugstores may be harder for patients to reach. Rural residents also often live farther from community centers, schools or other facilities that can serve as cooling centers during heat waves or evacuation centers in times of crisis.
Alzheimer’s disease can make evacuation difficult
Cognitive decline also affects older adults’ ability to manage disasters. Over 11% of Americans age 65 and older – more than 7 million people – have Alzheimer’s disease or related dementia, and the prevalence is higher in rural areas’ older populations compared with urban areas. Caregivers for family members living with dementia may struggle to find time to prepare for disasters. And when disaster strikes, they face unique challenges. Disasters disrupt routines, which can cause agitation for people with Alzheimer’s, and patients may resist evacuation. Living through a disaster can also worsen brain health over the long run. Older adults who lived through the 2011 Great East Japan earthquake and tsunami were found to have greater cognitive decline over the following decade, especially those who lost their homes or jobs, or whose health care routines were disrupted.
Social safety nets are essential
One thing that many rural communities have that helps is a strong social fabric. Those social connections can help reduce older adults’ vulnerability when disasters strike. Following severe flooding in Colorado in 2013, social connections helped older adults navigate the maze of paperwork required for disaster aid, and some even provided personal loans.Community support through churches, like this one whose building was hit by a tornado in rural Argyle, Wis., in 2024, and other groups can help older adults recover from disasters.Ross Harried/NurPhoto via Getty Images Friends, family and neighbors in rural areas often check in on seniors, particularly those living alone. They can help them develop disaster response plans to ensure older residents have access to medications and medical treatment, and that they have an evacuation plan. Rural communities and local groups can also help build up older adults’ mental and physical health before and after storms by developing educational, social and exercise programs. Better health and social connections can improve resilience, including older adults’ ability to respond to alerts and recover after disasters. Ensuring that everyone in the community has that kind of support is important in rural areas and cities alike as storm and flood risks worsen, particularly for older adults. Lori Hunter, Professor of Sociology, Director of the Institute of Behavioral Science, University of Colorado Boulder This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Why Gen Z and millennial consumers feel disillusioned — and how they can drive real change
Many Gen Z shoppers express frustration that their values around climate action, racial justice, and corporate ethics are often overlooked, leading to skepticism about the efficacy of individual actions like ethical consumption. Instead, a focus on collective action and civic engagement, alongside strategic purchasing, may foster more meaningful change.
If you feel this way, you’re not alone. But are young consumers truly powerless? Or are they simply navigating a new kind of influence that’s more diffuse, digital and demanding in ways previous generations did not experience?
No one’s 20s and 30s look the same. You might be saving for a mortgage or just struggling to pay rent. You could be swiping dating apps, or trying to understand childcare. No matter your current challenges, our Quarter Life series has articles to share in the group chat, or just to remind you that you’re not alone.
A 2022 meta-analysis of 66 studies found that political consumerism is strongly associated with liberal ideology, political interest and media use. In other words, young people who are politically engaged are increasingly using their wallets to express their values.
For many young people, consumption is increasingly an expression of identity and belief. The rise of “lifestyle politics” involves a shift from traditional forms of participation like voting or protesting to everyday acts. For many Gen Z and millennial consumers, what you buy is who you are.
And if everyone’s “voting with their dollar,” why does so little seem to change? The answer lies in understanding the limits and leverage of consumer power.
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Individual action alone isn’t enough. Buying ethically can feel good, but it rarely moves the needle on its own. Research suggests political polarization has made brand preferences more ideologically charged, but also more fragmented. A progressive boycott might spark headlines, but unless it’s sustained and widespread, it often fizzles out.
At the same time, enthusiasm for ethical consumption often runs into practical limits. Buying ethically usually requires extra money and the ability to research brands, so it tends to be most accessible to people with disposable income and good access to information. This means that while many young people strongly support ethical consumption, only those with sufficient financial resources are able to practice it consistently.
Where individual choices fall short, collective action can be more impactful. Co-ordinated campaigns like #GrabYourWallet, which targets companies linked to Donald Trump, or the youth-led push to divest university endowments from fossil fuels demonstrate the power of organized consumer advocacy.
Voting still matters
Consumer activism complements, but does not substitute, traditional civic engagement. Policy shapes markets, regulation sets boundaries for what companies can get away with and elected officials determine what corporations can and cannot do.
Yet voter turnout among young Canadians remains stubbornly low. In the 2021 federal election, only 46.7 per cent of eligible voters aged 18 to 24 cast a ballot, compared to 74.4 per cent of those aged 65 to 74.
Simiarly, in the United Kingdom’s 2019 general election, only 53.6 per cent of 18- to 34-year-olds voted versus 77 per cent of those 65 and older, showing the same generational gap seen in Canada where older voters consistently out-participate younger ones.
If young people want to influence climate policy, housing or student debt, the ballot box remains one of their most potent tools.
What actually makes a difference?
So how can young consumers move from performative gestures to meaningful change? Evidence suggests several ways young consumers can translate values into tangible change:
Advocate for systemic change such as supply chain transparency laws, supporting living wage campaigns or demanding climate disclosures from corporations. When consumer sentiment aligns with regulatory pressure, companies are far more likely to act.
3. Invest in local and co-operative alternatives.
Not all change comes from pressuring big brands. Sometimes, it’s about supporting local businesses, worker co-ops and social enterprises that embed ethics into their structure. These alternatives demonstrate what’s possible and keep money circulating in communities.
It’s easy to feel cynical. The problems are big, the systems are entrenched and the stakes are high. But young people aren’t powerless. They’re navigating a landscape in which influence is less about individualism and more about strategic, collective action.
Political consumerism is most effective when paired with civic engagement and organizational membership. That means joining movements, building coalitions and recognizing that real change rarely comes from the checkout line alone.
So while individual choices matter, they are most effective when combined with collective action and civic engagement. If you’re seeking meaningful change, you must combine purchasing choices with organized campaigns, policy advocacy and voting.
Catherine O’Hara and the Late-Night TV That Stayed With Me
A personal reflection on watching Catherine O’Hara on SCTV during late-night television and how those early performances shaped a lifelong love of character-driven comedy.
Catherine O’Hara and the Late-Night TV That Shaped a Generation of Comedy Fans
From a personal point of view, one of my earliest memories of Catherine O’Hara doesn’t come from a movie theater or a prime-time sitcom. It comes from the quiet glow of late-night television, long after most of the house had gone to sleep.
As a youngster, I remember staying up late enough to catch Second City Television (SCTV), which aired after Saturday Night Live and Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert. That meant it didn’t come on until around 1:30 a.m. Pacific Time, deep into Saturday night and early Sunday morning. Even at that young age, I knew I was watching something different. The humor felt sharper, stranger, and somehow smarter — and Catherine O’Hara stood out immediately.
Even before I understood why it was funny, I understood that it mattered.
Late-Night Television as a Classroom
Looking back now, it’s clear that late-night television quietly shaped my taste in comedy. SCTV didn’t feel like it was aiming for the widest possible audience. It felt like it trusted the viewer to catch up. Catherine O’Hara’s performances weren’t just about delivering punchlines — they were about inhabiting characters completely, no matter how absurd, subtle, or offbeat they were.
SCTV High Q Night School sketch with John Candy, Eugene Levy, Catherine O’Hara, Rick Moranis
That kind of comedy asks you to pay attention. And for a kid watching far past his bedtime, it was oddly captivating. I didn’t have the vocabulary for “character work” or “commitment to the bit,” but I recognized authenticity when I saw it. O’Hara had it in abundance.
Seeing the Through-Line Years Later
As the years went on, Catherine O’Hara kept showing up in new places — and each time, something clicked. In Beetlejuice, there was that same fearless weirdness. In Home Alone, she brought warmth and panic and humanity to what could have easily been a one-note role. She grounded the chaos without ever dulling it.
Then came Schitt’s Creek. By the time Moira Rose entered our cultural vocabulary, it felt less like a reinvention and more like a full-circle moment. The bold choices, the musicality of her voice, the unapologetic commitment — it all traced back to those SCTV performances from decades earlier.
Moira Rose didn’t come out of nowhere — she came from years of late nights, sharp instincts, and fearless comedy.
Why Those Early Moments Matter
What I didn’t realize at the time was that those 1:30 a.m. viewings were teaching me how to appreciate comedy that lingered. Not everything had to land immediately. Not every joke needed a laugh track. Some performances simply stayed with you.
Catherine O’Hara – SCTV
Catherine O’Hara’s work did exactly that. It stayed. Through different decades, formats, and genres, her performances carried a consistency of intelligence and heart. For many of us who grew up sneaking glances at late-night television, she became a familiar presence — someone who trusted the audience enough to go all in.
A Personal Goodbye
With news of her passing, those memories feel closer than ever. Not just of Catherine O’Hara the icon, but of Catherine O’Hara the performer who helped shape how many of us learned to watch comedy. She wasn’t just funny — she was formative.
Late-night television doesn’t always get credit for the role it plays in shaping taste, curiosity, and imagination. But for those of us who were there, watching quietly while the rest of the world slept, it mattered. And Catherine O’Hara was a big part of why.
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What a bear attack in a remote valley in Nepal tells us about the problem of aging rural communities
A 71-year-old in Nepal’s Nubri valley survives repeated bear attacks as youth outmigration and rapid population aging leave fewer people to protect crops and homes—pushing bears closer to villages and raising urgent questions about safety, conservation rules, and rural resilience.
Dorje Dundul recently had his foot gnawed by a brown bear – a member of the species Ursus thibetanus, to be precise.
It wasn’t his first such encounter. Recounting the first of three such violent experiences over the past five years, Dorje told our research team: “My wife came home one evening and reported that a bear had eaten a lot of corn from the maize field behind our house. So, we decided to shoo it away. While my wife was setting up camp, I went to see how much the bear had eaten. The bear was just sitting there; it attacked me.”
Dorje dropped to the ground, but the bear ripped open his shirt and tore at his shoulder. “I started shouting and the bear ran away. My wife came, thinking I was messing with her, but when she saw the wounds, she knew what had happened.”
Researchers Dolma Choekyi Lama, Tsering Tinley and I spoke with Dorje – a 71-year-old resident of Nubri, a Buddhist enclave in the Nepalese highlands – as part of a three-year study of aging and migration.
Now, you may be forgiven for asking what a bear attack on a septuagenarian has to do with demographic change in Nepal. The answer, however, is everything.
In recent years, people across Nepal have witnessed an increase in bear attacks, a phenomenon recorded in news reports and academic studies.
Inhabitants of Nubri are at the forefront of this trend – and one of the main reasons is outmigration. People, especially young people, are leaving for education and employment opportunities elsewhere. It is depleting household labor forces, so much so that over 75% of those who were born in the valley and are now ages 5 to 19 have left and now live outside of Nubri.
It means that many older people, like Dorje and his wife, Tsewang, are left alone in their homes. Two of their daughters live abroad and one is in the capital, Kathmandu. Their only son runs a trekking lodge in another village.
Scarcity of ‘scarebears’
Until recently, when the corn was ripening, parents dispatched young people to the fields to light bonfires and bang pots all night to ward off bears. The lack of young people acting as deterrents, alongside the abandonment of outlying fields, is tempting bears to forage closer to human residences.
Outmigration in Nubri and similar villages is due in large part to a lack of educational and employment opportunities. The problems caused by the removal of younger people have been exacerbated by two other factors driving a rapidly aging population: People are living longer due to improvements in health care and sanitation; and fertility has declined since the early 2000s, from more than six to less than three births per woman.
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These demographic forces have been accelerating population aging for some time, as illustrated by the population pyramid constructed from our 2012 household surveys in Nubri and neighboring Tsum.
A not-so-big surprise, anymore
Nepal is not alone in this phenomenon; similar dynamics are at play elsewhere in Asia. The New York Times reported in November 2025 that bear attacks are on the rise in Japan, too, partly driven by demographic trends. Farms there used to serve as a buffer zone, shielding urban residents from ursine intruders. However, rural depopulation is allowing bears to encroach on more densely populated areas, bringing safety concerns in conflict with conservation efforts.
Dorje can attest to those concerns. When we met him in 2023 he showed us deep claw marks running down his shoulder and arm, and he vowed to refrain from chasing away bears at night.
So in October 2025, Dorje and Tsewang harvested a field before marauding bears could get to it and hauled the corn to their courtyard for safekeeping. The courtyard is surrounded by stone walls piled high with firewood – not a fail-safe barrier but at least a deterrent. They covered the corn with a plastic tarp, and for extra measure Dorje decided to sleep on the veranda.
He described what happened next:
“I woke to a noise that sounded like ‘sharak, sharak.’ I thought it must be a bear rummaging under the plastic. Before I could do anything, the bear came up the stairs. When I shouted, it got frightened, roared and yanked at my mattress. Suddenly my foot was being pulled and I felt pain.”
Dorje suffered deep lacerations to his foot. Trained in traditional Tibetan medicine, he staunched the bleeding using, ironically, a tonic that contained bear liver.
Yet his life was still in danger due to the risk of infection. It took three days and an enormous expense by village standards – equivalent to roughly US$2,000 – before they could charter a helicopter to Kathmandu for further medical attention.
And Dorje is not the only victim. An elderly woman from another village bumped into a bear during a nocturnal excursion to her outhouse. It left her with a horrific slash from forehead to chin – and her son scrambling to find funds for her evacuation and treatment.A woman weeding freshly planted corn across the valley from Trok, Nubri. Geoff Childs, CC BY-SA
So how should Nepal’s highlanders respond to the increase in bear attacks?
Dorje explained that in the past they set lethal traps when bear encroachments became too dangerous. That option vanished with the creation of Manaslu Conservation Area Project, or MCAP, in the 1990s, a federal initiative to manage natural resources that strictly prohibits the killing of wild animals.
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Learning to grin and bear it?
Dorje reasons that if MCAP temporarily relaxed the regulation, villagers could band together to cull the more hostile bears. He informed us that MCAP officials will hear nothing of that option, yet their solutions, such as solar-powered electric fencing, haven’t worked.
Dorje is reflective about the options he faces as young people leave the village, leaving older folk to battle the bears alone.
“At first, I felt that we should kill the bear. But the other side of my heart says, perhaps I did bad deeds in my past life, which is why the bear bit me. The bear came to eat corn, not to attack me. Killing it would just be another sinful act, creating a new cycle of cause and effect. So, why get angry about it?”
It remains to be seen how Nubri’s residents will respond to the mounting threats bears pose to their lives and livelihoods. But one thing is clear: For those who remain behind, the outmigration of younger residents is making the perils more imminent and the solutions more challenging.
Dolma Choekyi Lama and Tsering Tinley made significant contributions to this article. Both are research team members on the author’s project on population in an age of migration.
