At Trivia Night, the questions prove far more challenging than I expect: What are the three largest countries in Asia by land mass after China and Russia? What 1908 children’s classic features characters named Ratty and Badger?
At boxing, the instructor for our beginner’s class assures me that each exercise segment lasts a mere three minutes. Halfway through, I find myself clinging to the heavy bag, as if I am already a punch-drunk fighter.
Why am I doing this? It’s all part of my year of living socially. My wife Beth and I will soon send our only son off to college, and at 63, I will be an empty nester. It’s an age and phase of life that is vulnerable to loneliness and social isolation, and my response is to explore new things, meet new people and chronicle my journey.
While the project technically doesn’t start until Sept. 2, I am already discovering new things about myself: I’m not nearly as smart as I think I am, and far more out of shape than I should be.
All of this is mere prelude to what I hope will be a life transformation, a year in which I will invest in deepening my social networks, making new friends and connecting with a much broader group of people of all ages and interests.I will invest in social connection in much the same way others treat nutrition or exercise – as a key component of health and well-being. Because it is.
The truth about loneliness
Not only is loneliness tied to poor health – being lonely is roughly equivalent to smoking 15 cigarettes a day – but we are also becoming dramatically more lonely as a people. The number of Americans who report having six or more close friends has plunged by 50% this century, and the number of people reporting no close friends has skyrocketed by 400% over that same time period.
In our growing isolation, we’re increasingly turning to technology for companionship and succor. The most frequent use case for AI by individuals is for friendship and mental health support, it doesn’t take any great intelligence, artificial or otherwise, to imagine a dangerous future in which we are even more separated from each other than we are today.
People don’t want that, but struggle with the fact that many of the institutions that have historically brought Americans together (think religious institutions or unions) are in long-term decline. We lack sufficient “third spaces” to support community building.
For the past few years, I have been researching and writing on the impact of social connection and loneliness on our health as we age, most notably in my last book, “Healthy to 100: How Strong Social Ties Lead to Long Lives.” I am frequently asked for help on how to be more socially connected, and I’ve become pretty proficient in doling out advice. But it has slowly dawned on me that I’ve become a “do as I say, not as I do” kind of guy.
Like many people in their 60s, I have fallen into a deep rut: doing the same things with the same people, failing to expand social networks and beginning to see regression as friends retire and move away. It’s a particularly vulnerable age as work networks fragment and many people lack a replacement.
Loneliness across age groups
We should be deeply concerned about loneliness of America’s youth, but older Americans are also battling the loneliness epidemic too: 41% of Americans in their 60s reported being lonely in 2025, up from 32% in 2010, according to AARP. It’s especially fraught for older men: Men are more socially isolated than women at every age, but the gaps increase significantly in the retirement years.
I’ve spoken at or attended countless senior events in recent years, and the rooms are almost invariably dominated by older women, with similarly aged men apparently preferring the isolation of their homes and the comfortable familiarity of their Barcaloungers.
I’m at a particular moment of risk. Not only is retirement looming at some not-too-distant time, but the college drop-off is fast approaching.
For the last 18 years, Nate has been the organizing principle of our lives – the person we build our schedules around, the life who dominates our dinner time conversation and the person who remains uppermost in our minds. I don’t expect that to change in one fell swoop, but his absence will leave a Nate-sized hole in our lives.
But I’m not going to take this lying down – or lounging in my Barcalounger. Come Sept. 2, I will be committing myself to doing all the things that I give advice on, but don’t do myself: volunteering, joining clubs, community building, reconnecting with old friends, trying to find friends of different generations, chatting up strangers, even attending adult summer camp.
A year of living socially
Putting aside the humiliation of trivia and the near heart attack of boxing, the early returns are promising.
After years of hiding behind earbuds and urban anonymity, I have rediscovered some of the joys of talking with fellow humans, even if I don’t know them. While waiting for a meeting at a local coffee shop, a 6-year-old boy and his grandmother at the next table tutor me in the rules of Trash, and a few secrets for card game success. At our local pool hall, a place I last visited 30 years ago, Will and Matt teach me how to keep score at darts, something I had forgotten in the intervening three decades. Soon, I am playing with (and losing to) Matt at darts, and Will is buying a round of beers to celebrate our evening together.
I don’t know that I will see any of them again – though I’m itching to take on that kid in a game of Trash – but those simple interactions are already bringing a new joy to my life. And making me more excited for the Year of Living Socially.
I’ll say yes to everything and see what I discover about myself, and what I can learn about how to socially connect in a society that is increasingly indifferent to human relationships. And since this is about social connection, I don’t intend to take this journey alone. I’m hoping that everyone, friends and strangers alike, will join in some fashion: whether that means just reading me here or following along on social media, jumpstarting their own efforts or even, if the spirit moves, inviting me out.
But please, just don’t invite me back to that boxing class.
Ken Stern is the author of “Healthy to 100.” You can follow his year of living socially on Instagram and TikTok.