YELLOW SPRINGS SENIOR CENTER
September 22, 2025
What does it really mean to age well?
The article below offers a powerful answer featuring the talents of three Yellow Springs women. Written by award-winning journalist Neenah Ellis and brought to life through the lens of photographer Dennie Eagleson, it captures the vibrant spirit of Donna Denman at age 90 – a woman whose energy, joy, and wisdom continue to light up our community.
Stories like Donna’s are not exceptions, they are exactly what we strive for every day at the Yellow Springs Senior Center. And your support makes it all possible.
Decades of research and our own experience confirm that people who stay socially connected, engaged in meaningful activities, and physically active enjoy longer, healthier, more fulfilling lives. But without access to community support, transportation, resources, and guidance, too many people age in isolation. Research has shown that loneliness increases the risk of premature death by nearly 30%.
That is where you come in. Because of donors like you and dozens of wonderful volunteers, the Yellow Springs Senior Center is able to offer nearly all our services completely free of charge:
This is the kind of work that changes lives. But we cannot do it without you.
To celebrate Donna’s milestone birthday, we set our Annual Appeal goal at $90,000. When we shared the idea with her, she smiled and said, “Well, I’m 91 now, shouldn’t we go for $91,000?” If you know Donna, you can hear her laugh at that moment. So, let’s do it: let’s make $91,000 our 2025 Annual Appeal goal.
If you believe, like we do, that everyone deserves to age with dignity, joy, and support, then your gift today will help make that vision a reality for hundreds in our community. Please give generously. Help us reach $91,000 and help more people live well through every stage of life.
With heartfelt thanks,
Caroline Mullin,
Executive Director
What does it really mean to age well?
The article below offers a powerful answer featuring the talents of three Yellow Springs women. Written by award-winning journalist Neenah Ellis and brought to life through the lens of photographer Dennie Eagleson, it captures the vibrant spirit of Donna Denman at age 90 – a woman whose energy, joy, and wisdom continue to light up our community.
Stories like Donna’s are not exceptions, they are exactly what we strive for every day at the Yellow Springs Senior Center. And your support makes it all possible.
Decades of research and our own experience confirm that people who stay socially connected, engaged in meaningful activities, and physically active enjoy longer, healthier, more fulfilling lives. But without access to community support, transportation, resources, and guidance, too many people age in isolation. Research has shown that loneliness increases the risk of premature death by nearly 30%.
That is where you come in. Because of donors like you and dozens of wonderful volunteers, the Yellow Springs Senior Center is able to offer nearly all our services completely free of charge:
- Transportation for medical appointments and errands
- Consultations on benefits, insurance, and long-term planning
- Medical equipment lending
- A wide variety of classes, activities, and social events every month (16,000+ participants annually)
- Support for people navigating life’s biggest transitions, like housing, finances, and health
This is the kind of work that changes lives. But we cannot do it without you.
To celebrate Donna’s milestone birthday, we set our Annual Appeal goal at $90,000. When we shared the idea with her, she smiled and said, “Well, I’m 91 now, shouldn’t we go for $91,000?” If you know Donna, you can hear her laugh at that moment. So, let’s do it: let’s make $91,000 our 2025 Annual Appeal goal.
If you believe, like we do, that everyone deserves to age with dignity, joy, and support, then your gift today will help make that vision a reality for hundreds in our community. Please give generously. Help us reach $91,000 and help more people live well through every stage of life.
With heartfelt thanks,
Caroline Mullin,
Executive Director
March 21, 2025 Scientific American
Living Healthy at 90 and Beyond: Donna Denman’s story provides one example of a life of activity, social attachments and higher purpose
By Neenah Ellis
Living Healthy at 90 and Beyond: Donna Denman’s story provides one example of a life of activity, social attachments and higher purpose
By Neenah Ellis
Photo by Dennie Eagleson
An ad appeared last summer in the Yellow Springs News, a weekly paper in a southwestern Ohio town of 3,000 people.
“Donna Denman is celebrating turning 90 and is inviting everyone who wants to celebrate with her—or would like to see her pollinator garden—to a Garden Party Celebration. No presents, please, unless it is a poem.”
On a perfect July afternoon, under a blue sky, three hundred people showed up to admire Donna’s garden, read their poems and sing songs to her.
They came on foot, by car and on bicycle: friends and family, kids and grandparents.
Donna wanted to show people they can do something about climate change by creating a garden with native plants. People came because Donna is beloved and admired.
Donna has made it to 90, remarkably healthy and active. She’s living alone now, but engaged in her town, with her loving family and devoted spiritual community. If you ask her how she did it, at first she says she’s surprised to find herself in such good shape. But it’s clear that she’s made choices all her life that have led her to this enviable place.
Donna is often out and about: in her yard across from the elementary school, at the Senior Center taking a comedy improv class, walking to the Dharma Center for morning meditation or lifting weights at the Wellness Center with her trainer.
My first memory of Donna is from fifteen years ago. She was on her bike, coasting into traffic at a busy intersection, steady and confident behind her husband, Al, who was also on a bike. The two of them were a matched pair in helmets and reflective vests, slender and strong, heading for town from their home by the nature preserve out on the edge of town. He was in his early 80s; she was 75.
“We decided to ride our bikes as much as possible,” she says. “We used our bodies to do things, to save energy. We had a philosophy of using less so there is more for others.”
Donna and Al were committed conservationists, both raised in the West by parents who also led healthy, active lives. Donna’s mother lived to 97, but genes only get you so far in staying healthy your whole life. Something else is at work.
Before I moved to Yellow Springs, I wrote a book called “If I Live to Be 100: Lessons from the Centenarians”, for which I interviewed more than 30 men and women from all over the U.S. Few of them understood why they had lived so long. I noticed that all of them had something in their lives much larger than themselves, often family or faith. Donna fits that pattern, too, and she is able to explain her life in a way that few others could.
Eyes open
Donna grew up in Idaho in the 1930s and 1940s. As a child, she was out one day with her grandfather and brothers shooting gophers and she was accidentally shot. The bullet lodged in her pelvis, and it’s still inside her. Her daughter Linnea says surviving that incident moved her to dedicate her life to God and to helping others, and not to focus on herself.
She met Al Denman when she was 16 and married him two years later. He was seven years older. They came to Yellow Springs so Al, a philosopher, could become the pastor and teach law and religion at Antioch College. In the late 1960s they took a trip around the world for his sabbatical, studying world religions. They were committed Christians, but Donna had grown disillusioned with Presbyterianism. On their trip, her eyes opened to Buddhism. She met a Tibetan Buddhist teacher named Chokyi Nyima Rinpoche and learned about the power of meditation. And later on their world tour, they stopped in Kyoto, Japan, where an Antioch College professor intervened on her behalf and special arrangements were made for her to meditate at a Zen temple there, where women were typically not allowed. It was transformational for her.
Back in Ohio, she joined a meditation group. Her practice grew deeper and wove itself into all aspects of her life.
Donna and Al lived simply, she says. In Yellow Springs, everything was nearby: a local grocery store, pharmacy, movie theater, library and post office. The town had a vibrant, diverse music, theater and art scene, and an activist student body that enlivened the town and kept it from being a sleepy bedroom community.
Donna’s marriage to Al is key to understanding her resilience, says Katie Egart, Donna’s friend of more than 30 years, who is now a Zen teacher. Donna looked up to Al, she says, and saw him as her teacher. Their mutual interest in social justice, selflessness and generosity, created a stability that gave Donna the space and structure to explore her own beliefs.
They raised four children, were active in the community, especially around civil rights, and devoted to the college. Donna worked as a low-income housing specialist for the county. Al passed away in 2022, at the tail end of the pandemic. Donna lives alone now in their house in town.
Most nights her daughter Linnea, who’s the town kindergarten teacher, comes over for dinner. She says her mom accepts the changes aging has brought. When her doctor suggested she stop driving, she did, and soon after gave her car away. When it became uncomfortable to sit on a cushion during meditation, she sat on a chair. When her hearing failed, she got hearing aids.
“Donna Denman is celebrating turning 90 and is inviting everyone who wants to celebrate with her—or would like to see her pollinator garden—to a Garden Party Celebration. No presents, please, unless it is a poem.”
On a perfect July afternoon, under a blue sky, three hundred people showed up to admire Donna’s garden, read their poems and sing songs to her.
They came on foot, by car and on bicycle: friends and family, kids and grandparents.
Donna wanted to show people they can do something about climate change by creating a garden with native plants. People came because Donna is beloved and admired.
Donna has made it to 90, remarkably healthy and active. She’s living alone now, but engaged in her town, with her loving family and devoted spiritual community. If you ask her how she did it, at first she says she’s surprised to find herself in such good shape. But it’s clear that she’s made choices all her life that have led her to this enviable place.
Donna is often out and about: in her yard across from the elementary school, at the Senior Center taking a comedy improv class, walking to the Dharma Center for morning meditation or lifting weights at the Wellness Center with her trainer.
My first memory of Donna is from fifteen years ago. She was on her bike, coasting into traffic at a busy intersection, steady and confident behind her husband, Al, who was also on a bike. The two of them were a matched pair in helmets and reflective vests, slender and strong, heading for town from their home by the nature preserve out on the edge of town. He was in his early 80s; she was 75.
“We decided to ride our bikes as much as possible,” she says. “We used our bodies to do things, to save energy. We had a philosophy of using less so there is more for others.”
Donna and Al were committed conservationists, both raised in the West by parents who also led healthy, active lives. Donna’s mother lived to 97, but genes only get you so far in staying healthy your whole life. Something else is at work.
Before I moved to Yellow Springs, I wrote a book called “If I Live to Be 100: Lessons from the Centenarians”, for which I interviewed more than 30 men and women from all over the U.S. Few of them understood why they had lived so long. I noticed that all of them had something in their lives much larger than themselves, often family or faith. Donna fits that pattern, too, and she is able to explain her life in a way that few others could.
Eyes open
Donna grew up in Idaho in the 1930s and 1940s. As a child, she was out one day with her grandfather and brothers shooting gophers and she was accidentally shot. The bullet lodged in her pelvis, and it’s still inside her. Her daughter Linnea says surviving that incident moved her to dedicate her life to God and to helping others, and not to focus on herself.
She met Al Denman when she was 16 and married him two years later. He was seven years older. They came to Yellow Springs so Al, a philosopher, could become the pastor and teach law and religion at Antioch College. In the late 1960s they took a trip around the world for his sabbatical, studying world religions. They were committed Christians, but Donna had grown disillusioned with Presbyterianism. On their trip, her eyes opened to Buddhism. She met a Tibetan Buddhist teacher named Chokyi Nyima Rinpoche and learned about the power of meditation. And later on their world tour, they stopped in Kyoto, Japan, where an Antioch College professor intervened on her behalf and special arrangements were made for her to meditate at a Zen temple there, where women were typically not allowed. It was transformational for her.
Back in Ohio, she joined a meditation group. Her practice grew deeper and wove itself into all aspects of her life.
Donna and Al lived simply, she says. In Yellow Springs, everything was nearby: a local grocery store, pharmacy, movie theater, library and post office. The town had a vibrant, diverse music, theater and art scene, and an activist student body that enlivened the town and kept it from being a sleepy bedroom community.
Donna’s marriage to Al is key to understanding her resilience, says Katie Egart, Donna’s friend of more than 30 years, who is now a Zen teacher. Donna looked up to Al, she says, and saw him as her teacher. Their mutual interest in social justice, selflessness and generosity, created a stability that gave Donna the space and structure to explore her own beliefs.
They raised four children, were active in the community, especially around civil rights, and devoted to the college. Donna worked as a low-income housing specialist for the county. Al passed away in 2022, at the tail end of the pandemic. Donna lives alone now in their house in town.
Most nights her daughter Linnea, who’s the town kindergarten teacher, comes over for dinner. She says her mom accepts the changes aging has brought. When her doctor suggested she stop driving, she did, and soon after gave her car away. When it became uncomfortable to sit on a cushion during meditation, she sat on a chair. When her hearing failed, she got hearing aids.
YS News ad provided by Matt Minde, The Yellow Springs News
She’s not just accepting change, says Linnea, she welcomes it, and she gets excited to learn new things. She’s learned to play bridge and mahjong and plays with friends every week. Recently she took up Pilates.
Not long ago, says Linnea, her mom met a woman who told her they were depressed at turning 90. “But mom said she was excited about it and was planning a garden party to share what she had learned about the importance of a native plant garden in fighting climate change,” says Linnea. “She doesn’t stop. She does slow down and things are hard for her sometimes, but she always has a way of getting out of it.”
Donna’s pattern
When I arrive to interview Donna, I follow her into the kitchen, where she has made tea and arranges some cookies on a plate. The living room walls are painted marigold yellow and tall windows let afternoon light bathe the room with a golden glow. She sits on the couch with perfect posture, her eyes bright and focused. She lets me sit close.
“You know, after the pandemic,” she says, “I didn’t know what was going to happen because I stayed pretty much at home. After that, I began training with Tron, a local trainer. He and I both were amazed at what I could do. One of the things that really impressed him was the plank.” This yoga pose involves holding your body in a straight line, suspended above the floor in an extended push up. “I did a plank and he counted and counted and counted. I was just amazed—I didn’t know I was in good shape.”
“I had been in bad shape before then. I’d had had a terrible time with sciatica in my back. I never had so much pain. I went to physical therapy, and I felt that it really was helping me. Then a friend told me to do this upside-down thing. I have a table in my room where I can hang upside down. While I was getting better with the physical therapy, somehow hanging upside down just made it faster. So I thought, physical therapy is so important. That’s why I wanted a personal trainer.”
After a lifetime, she doesn’t seem to have created obstacles in her mind.
Her meditation practice, Donna says, has helped her observe herself and her life in a larger context, and over time, her practice has evolved. “What was helpful for me in recent years has been to think of all the people that I care about, and people who are in need, or people who have illnesses, to send loving-kindness, a Buddhist practice. You know, ‘May they be free from harm, may they be happy, may they be free from suffering and the causes of suffering,’ and then saying that about each person. And then I’d fall asleep, which maybe is a good way to fall asleep.”
I ask if she thinks her Buddhist journey has an intersection with a healthy life.
“Definitely,” she says.
How does it relate?
“Because you learn to relax. And because you feel like you are in touch with something much bigger than yourself. There are different ways to talk about it. But to me, I think, you feel you are in touch with reality, ultimate reality. And when you talk about purpose, there’s your purpose—to express that.”
Donna is not trying to live long. She is trying to live well. She still walks and bikes and gardens and tells her friends how much they mean to her. After so many years of reflection and practice, the choices are clearer, she says. The values are refined.
Material things, she says—less stuff, less energy consumption—it has become second nature. “You might be sacrificing, “she says, “but you know why.”
She and Al shared this way of living and for a while they seemed ageless. But as Al passed 90, he decided he no longer felt at home in his body. After long discussions with Donna and the family, he decided he had used enough of the Earth’s resources. He chose to stop eating.
At first Donna said, no, don’t do it. But finally she realized, says Linnea, that she had to let him go. He was 91.
At age 90, Donna Denman is a bright light. When you meet her, you can’t help but notice that she is radiant.
This story series was created for Google, the Buck Institute, Optispan and Phenome Health by Scientific American Custom Media, a division separate from the magazine’s board of editors. Thank you to Scientific American, Neenah Ellis, and Donna Denman for allowing YSSC to reproduce and share this article.
Not long ago, says Linnea, her mom met a woman who told her they were depressed at turning 90. “But mom said she was excited about it and was planning a garden party to share what she had learned about the importance of a native plant garden in fighting climate change,” says Linnea. “She doesn’t stop. She does slow down and things are hard for her sometimes, but she always has a way of getting out of it.”
Donna’s pattern
When I arrive to interview Donna, I follow her into the kitchen, where she has made tea and arranges some cookies on a plate. The living room walls are painted marigold yellow and tall windows let afternoon light bathe the room with a golden glow. She sits on the couch with perfect posture, her eyes bright and focused. She lets me sit close.
“You know, after the pandemic,” she says, “I didn’t know what was going to happen because I stayed pretty much at home. After that, I began training with Tron, a local trainer. He and I both were amazed at what I could do. One of the things that really impressed him was the plank.” This yoga pose involves holding your body in a straight line, suspended above the floor in an extended push up. “I did a plank and he counted and counted and counted. I was just amazed—I didn’t know I was in good shape.”
“I had been in bad shape before then. I’d had had a terrible time with sciatica in my back. I never had so much pain. I went to physical therapy, and I felt that it really was helping me. Then a friend told me to do this upside-down thing. I have a table in my room where I can hang upside down. While I was getting better with the physical therapy, somehow hanging upside down just made it faster. So I thought, physical therapy is so important. That’s why I wanted a personal trainer.”
After a lifetime, she doesn’t seem to have created obstacles in her mind.
Her meditation practice, Donna says, has helped her observe herself and her life in a larger context, and over time, her practice has evolved. “What was helpful for me in recent years has been to think of all the people that I care about, and people who are in need, or people who have illnesses, to send loving-kindness, a Buddhist practice. You know, ‘May they be free from harm, may they be happy, may they be free from suffering and the causes of suffering,’ and then saying that about each person. And then I’d fall asleep, which maybe is a good way to fall asleep.”
I ask if she thinks her Buddhist journey has an intersection with a healthy life.
“Definitely,” she says.
How does it relate?
“Because you learn to relax. And because you feel like you are in touch with something much bigger than yourself. There are different ways to talk about it. But to me, I think, you feel you are in touch with reality, ultimate reality. And when you talk about purpose, there’s your purpose—to express that.”
Donna is not trying to live long. She is trying to live well. She still walks and bikes and gardens and tells her friends how much they mean to her. After so many years of reflection and practice, the choices are clearer, she says. The values are refined.
Material things, she says—less stuff, less energy consumption—it has become second nature. “You might be sacrificing, “she says, “but you know why.”
She and Al shared this way of living and for a while they seemed ageless. But as Al passed 90, he decided he no longer felt at home in his body. After long discussions with Donna and the family, he decided he had used enough of the Earth’s resources. He chose to stop eating.
At first Donna said, no, don’t do it. But finally she realized, says Linnea, that she had to let him go. He was 91.
At age 90, Donna Denman is a bright light. When you meet her, you can’t help but notice that she is radiant.
This story series was created for Google, the Buck Institute, Optispan and Phenome Health by Scientific American Custom Media, a division separate from the magazine’s board of editors. Thank you to Scientific American, Neenah Ellis, and Donna Denman for allowing YSSC to reproduce and share this article.
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