After the gold watch and the farewell luncheon, some of us turn to the next worry: cognitive loss.
Experts (and plenty of non-experts) have laundry lists of preventive strategies. They pop up in newspaper columns, podcasts, the psychology section of the bookstore, coffee shops, bakeries and pizza parlors. Each strategy is succinct, clear, and self-assured. Take up a new musical instrument. Commit to the full-page Sunday puzzle. Expose yourself to aromatherapy. Use more olive oil. Use less sucralose. Don’t forget to exercise, although there’s little enduring agreement on the amount and type. Ensure social relationships; it’s never too late to make a friend.
We’re told that all these trails will reach the top of the same mountain. Among the most popular of strategies is learning a new language. Some studies say it remodels the brain; the hippocampus grows heavier, the parietal lobes grow denser. Other studies say that regular use of a second language can delay the onset of dementia by 4 to 4 ½ years. One articulate, older friend of mine has been memorizing Japanese phrases for months in preparation for upcoming travel. She’s already fluent in Italian and French, and I see her hippocampus expanding in real time whenever we have dinner. Someone else I know bought hundreds of index cards so he could tackle Swahili grammar. A third person taught himself French by reading Harry Potter in bed. He made it through the entire series. These are admirable elders.
Foreign languages never came easily to me. Neither did the languages of Algebra II or Geometry, and let’s not speak the word Physics. Yet one day, without looking for it, a learnable language appeared before my eyes: internationally accepted, easy to understand, and quicker to master than Swahili. As usual, I was the last person to become aware, and by the time I did, everyone on the planet was already fluent in Emoji.
This next paragraph should burst into illustration: ebullient Emoji faces, high-stepping Emoji flamenco dancers, Emoji champagne glasses with such effervescent bubbling that you can feel it in your nose. At the very least, there should be scrolls of unstoppable Emoji color. Using them is a linguistic pleasure, though occasionally, when every email and text finishes with lines of strung-together images, the language can feel a little over-spoken.
Insert a wryly frowning yellow circle here.
As of September 2025, there were at least 3,954 available Emoji in the world, and the variations within sub-categories expand into the millions. They offer infinite combinations that will say whatever needs to be said; long, looping strings of hieroglyphics. It’s like standing in front of an easel with pots of paints, only instead of a brush, you apply a mouse to the canvas.
If I were to burst into Emoji in order to end this brief piece, the images I’d choose would be simple: maybe one smiley face holding a rose between its teeth, maybe one small red heart. These are the shy requests of a newcomer who wants to join but is still learning to speak.
Elissa Ely writes about seniors/baby boomers for The Belmont Voice. She is a community psychiatrist.
