A New Home, A New Life, A New Me

As the years went by, “retirement” was a word that seldom passed my lips or crossed my mind. Now I find myself retired and “living the dream” in an “adult community.” It’s a whole new world to me, being surrounded by all these so-called “old” people. I’m not really sensitive about my age, however, I once torched a McDonald’s after the girl at the drive through window addressed me as Pops.”

Kidding.

It takes some time getting used to life in our village. Everyone’s just too darn friendly — and I like it.

Saturday mornings mean that coffee, tea, donuts and other pastries are available at the clubhouse. All of the women sit together at one large table while all of the men sit at another. I don’t know why, but I’m too new to suggest changes in what may be somewhat of a “good old boy” tradition.

Those at the men’s table talk about their aches and pains. Past or future surgeries. Who’s a Vietnam veteran. Who has tattoos.

I don’t know what the women talk about but they laugh a lot. Sometimes they stop, throw glances our way, and then resume their laughter with greater gusto.

Here, one can walk the streets at all hours, day or night, without fear of being
raped, pillaged or plundered. I’m not implying that there are no ruffians in
the village. There are rogue riders as well as marauding golf cart gangs on
the premises, easily recognized by their Rockport riding boots and large
Hell’s Duffers” patches. I doubt that any of them have ever even held a golf club. Periodically they take over the clubhouse and throw wild parties, drinking case-after-case of Ensure. After a few hours, they depart, leaving a messy trail of AARP literature behind.

In addition to a slew of
activities, we have a billiards room, a shuffleboard court, a swimming pool, a well-stocked library and an exercise room complete with everything one
needs to get the body of Chuck Norris or Christie Brinkley.

Even with all of these diversions,
what I am looking forward to the
most is coffee morning this coming Saturday. I have a gut-feeling they’re going to teach me the “secret
handshake” and present me with my
very own decoder ring.

Michael Wright recently retired to a wee village south of Lakeland. He now
speaks with a Mulberryian brogue. Reach him at micwrighthamo@gmail.com.

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