After spending four days visiting in a retirement community in Arizona, I’ve concluded I’m not yet ready for that lifestyle. It was wonderful to escape snow and ice for a few days, but I wouldn’t want to live there permanently or even become a regular “snowbird,” at least not in that sort of location.
My sister is 71, just nine years older than I am. Her gentleman friend is 68. The two of them have settled comfortably into the relaxed ways of the retirees who inhabit their little town. They sleep when they want to, spend plenty of time doing crafts and projects at home, read books, listen to music, frequent the local thrift store, eat mostly pre-packaged foods cooked in the microwave, walk the dog once a day, and generally take it easy. They engage in a few select group activities, but mostly keep to themselves.
Everywhere we went in that locale I encountered elderly people, many in their 80s and 90s. At the pool my eyes were confronted with men who had skinny legs, large bellies, no hair, and a hesitant gait. The women had sagging bosoms, wrinkles everywhere, bad attitudes, and worse lipstick.
After a good deal of soul-searching, I realized the reason all of that bothered me is because I know I will likely join them in at least some of those conditions in another 10-20 years. I would prefer not to have my future flaunted in front of me day after day; it would be better to let it sneak up on me gradually and unobtrusively, until one day I notice I have arrived at Hard of Hearing Avenue, intersecting No Memory Lane, adjacent to Dentures Plaza, in the middle of Wrinkle Town.
Until then, I hope to live in places inhabited by families and children, where I can more easily contemplate the past and the present, and let the future take care of itself when it arrives.
My upcoming posts will feature less philosophy and more photos of my adventures in Arizona!
