We don't design our communities around the eventuality that we will grow old. Thanks to SpouseKitty being in a wheelchair, I get to see that earlier than most, but I see it also with my mother in San Francisco.

Homes have steps on the porch, stairs to the second floor. Corners and curbs without ramps. When we first moved to the Pacific Northwest, we had to enlighten our realtor what "wheelchair accessible" means.

She knew what it meant in the abstract, but she never had to buy a house for someone who was in a wheelchair before. Nor did any of the listing realtors she had to deal with ever had to do same, either.

A multi-level home was 'wheelchair accessible' because the door was level with the street.

A condo was 'wheelchair accessible' because it was on the ground floor, never mind the two steps down to get there.

A home was represented as 'perfect for a wheelchair' because it did have no stairs, no steps to the threshold. It also didn't have a paved path out the door, just gravel.

We are all going to grow older (barring other tragedies.) Our hips will go, our knees will protest. We may not all end up in wheelchairs, but there's a likelihood that we'll all benefit from avoiding these design shortfalls.

Even if not permanently crippled, we can still injure ourselves and be forced to gimp around for a few weeks. Having spilled off my bicycle once and inflated my knee a few inches, I can attest that features whose absence pained SpouseKitty also pained me those first few weeks.

The term is "universal design." The goal is to make structures handicapped accessible without screaming "wheelchair use only!" The point is not to reserve it solely for wheelchairs, but to show that, with minimal incremental cost, wheelchairs can be incorporated into the design considerations.

After all, we're not getting any younger.