In a recent article for AARP magazine John Colapinto describes the scene in Florida as the new retirement community “ Margaritaville” (yes based on the song) opened to buyers. The builders of this over 55 haven were pleased to see hundreds of eager future flip flop clad seniors camped outside of their offices. These colorfully dressed folks were lined up for a chance to purchase their own little piece of paradise. Were is not for the wee hour and copious amounts of construction dust, the scene would have strongly resembled a bunch of Jimmy Buffet fans (known as parrot heads) waiting to enter a concert venue.
Apparently, those folks had a plan for their future. My parents not so much. According to many of my peers, their folks are just as blasé about how this whole last stage of life thing is supposed to go down. Our parents are totally and completely without an end-of-life plan and they are perfectly fine with that.
In the case of my Dad and his wife, they just don’t believe that anything will change. In spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, blindness, cancer, memory loss, spinal injury, they see no reason to develop say … a strategy for going forward. They live in a town with no hospital, zero transit, and a shortage of workers so severe that home health care is virtually out of the question and they don’t give a tinker’s damn. There is no plan. There will be no plan.
This attitude has a certain ‘devil may care” kind of charm to it. My siblings and I love these folks so we gird ourselves for the inevitable crisis. It is nerve-wracking and we worry, but, they have earned the right to call is the way they see it. We’ve got their backs.
I am sixty-three years old and I am determined to have some kind of a plan. This is an obsession for me and many of my pals who are asking … am I where I should be? I live in Austin and love my home and the life I have built here. I also deeply miss Los Angeles (I know go figure, ten years ago I would have stepped over hot coals to get out of LA) and my friends and family there. I love the lake, swimming with Judy in Barton Springs, but I miss the ocean and long winter walks with Jeffrey and the dogs. This is of course a luxurious problem, choosing between two great options.
Keeps me awake at night nonetheless.
I have heard that as we age we begin to crave the environs of our youth. I was raised in Huntington Beach, California. The surf capital of the world. (Not sure if that is true but we said it so I’m gonna roll with it.) I had red hair, good grades, and a serious allergic reaction to the sun. Huntington Beach was not a great fit for pale egg-headed me. I had to swim before ten AM because the sun’s rays were too strong as the day wore on. I had to sit poolside in a giant long-sleeved caftan and a wide-brimmed hat. This did not exactly scream "sexy teen.”
I remember coming out of the ocean and heading for my towel early one morning when I noticed three boys staring at me and pointing. I was thirteen and certain that they found me alluring in my waist-high two-piece. As I drew nearer my posture a bit more proud, my hands holding my sides. The three boys jumped up in unison and screamed, “ It’s a Ghost “ then ran down the beach making horror movie noises and turning back occasionally to point again. First chance I had to get out of there I took it. Headed first for Pasadena and then New York, the land of pale folks with bookish tendencies. Ah home. At least for a time.
Now when I go back to California I am filled with the odd sensation of belonging there. ( Go figure)
Kathy is thinking maybe England, where she has extended family. Nettie sees New Mexico and the fulfillment of a decades-long dream. Kat will absolutely head to Mexico first chance she gets. Michael has picked Palm Springs, the new “IT” destination. Don is staying put, but thinking maybe … a small place in Nashville near the family?
The question burns for many of us. Where should we live? Should we rent or buy there … wherever there is? What are the things we will need most? Our world is changing so quickly that it is hard to anticipate the next technological breakthroughs. I for one, am all for the driverless “POD” cars set to exist in the future. How far into it is the question? Fifteen years? Twenty? Will I be able to “POD” about town or should I be considering a move to a place with public transportation? So many questions.
This much I know. If you see me camping out in Florida … well firstly if you see me camping there is trouble afoot. If you see me camping in Florida wearing bright colors and anything resembling parrot-like headwear … call an ambulance. Get the net!! Sorry Roxy there is no Barkaritaville dog park in your future,
There are so many ways to approach life in the fourth quarter. My parents are happy just
winging it. I am asking myself hard questions and looking for real-life answers. I am also letting myself dream a bit. A ten-year stint overseas? A small beach cottage? There is so much living still to do, but one thing for sure. I’ll be doing it someplace with an airport a hospital and a kick-ass car service, so y’all can come visit anytime.
That’s the plan. Sort of . Maybe.
On we go …
P.S. (If you would like to read “ Anybody Got a Plan? Part 1” you can subscribe and see all of the letters I have sent thus far. There is a free option and that way we can hang every week!)
Xo
BB
We want you to move here to NYC! You'll have everything-- lots of your bosom buddies, a comprehensive transit system (half-price once you hit 65), plenty of kultchah, senior discounts all over the place and--should you ever need it--Meals on Wheels!