Feels Like Home

September 30, 2008

I’m feeling a bit more positive today. The stock market came back a bit, maybe it is not the beginning of the end of our economy. Made a few calls for Obama. I am still shocked his numbers have not gone through the roof but as my good friend Brad always said “Never underestimate the ignorance of the voters.”


The Pre-Historic side of the village is a dirty little secret that the sales staff and promoters of the Villages would just as soon keep in the family. It may have been where the community began, but it does not quite purvey the image that the place is currently trying to promote. The Trolley or the Sales team seldom brings prospective new Villagers past these homes. I, however, found it quaint and homey. The large trees and quirky mobile homes were a warm contrast to the cookie cutter homes with the stark Stepford like landscaping of the new neighborhoods. I found a double wide on the water and rented it for a few of the cold months.

I returned to New York still planning to return to work a few more years. Rich and I were going to split the rental and I made plans for my family to join us in the Villages for the Holidays. Rich was retiring and invited his family down for some time in January. My health was still an issue, but I felt better in the stress free sunshine. My kids and in-laws came down for a visit and we all had a great winter. This place feels like home.

Prices all over the Villages were going through the roof, and I started to feel like if I didn’t get into the market soon, I would not be able to afford anything. Rich challenged me to “Get off my ass” and buy something. So the next day I did. We went to see a “for sale by owner” around the corner from our rental. It was an older double wide, and smelled like it had been owned by smokers, but owner financing was what sealed the deal. We called Wayne, who had gone back north to work, and agreed to buy it. We were closed in weeks, and were now official Villagers.

Rich was jubilant. He was the token old guy and the only one in our click actually old enough to be in the Villages. He had retired, recently divorced, and figured he’d have the place to himself for years before Wayne and I retired. He was wrong.

Cat Food

September 29, 2008
The economy is in the dumpster today. Isn’t it ironic that at this stage of our lives we have to worry about money? We played by the rules: Saved in our 401k (now at risk in the stock market), tolerated a job for 30 years in exchange for the security of a pension (now held by a bankruptcy trustee), paid into social security (likely the next victim), and invested in real estate (bottom dropping fast) and still face the real possibility of financial peril. I never wanted to be rich, just didn’t want to eat cat food in my “golden years”.

I have made a commitment to make phone calls for the Obama/Biden ticket every Monday, but am feeling a bit to down to do it tonight. I’ll be better tomorrow.

Back to the Villages story: I had been reading about communal living (I used to be a hippy) and wondering how I might purchase acreage in a place like New Mexico to build my green compound, when it occurred to me that the Villages could be a less drastic alternative. I returned home with a mental list in my head of my friends that I could picture living in the Villages. I ticked off about 15 potential friends and relatives. Some were golfers but others were like me, sun worshipers. Wayne was still not convinced that central Florida was far enough south that he would never have to put on a sweater again. I figured that I still had another 5 years to make a decision when my health took a dive.

I had always been healthy. My doctor misdiagnosed the condition for close to a year and by the time he took my persistent cough and constant fatigue seriously, my heart was barely keeping me alive. I was finally diagnosed with a virus in my heart. I was told I would have to eliminate all stress from my life, and take it VERY easy until they could put a defibrillator in. My doctor’s bedside manner was brutal and he let me know that the prognosis was not good. He assured me that if I could be satisfied with a sedentary life I could probably survive with medication. Great, at 50 years old I could retire from a job I loved (though the company had recently gone into bankruptcy), stop being County Democratic Chairman (no stress there), give up all physical activities and vegetate for a few years till I die. Shit, I might as well be dead already.

I have always been a bit on the “Carpe diem train” but this pushed me over the edge. I told my doctor to cure me, not manage me as I was 50 not 80, and I began the push to get better. Long story short, I took my sick leave and went back to the Villages. My best friend, Rich and I also took a trip to Arizona to Sun City, Pebble Creek and looked at other communities in Florida, figuring the Villages must be one of many choices. I looked for something inter-generational as I always hoped my family would live near me forever, but didn’t find anything that fit the bill.

I still had my reservations about the Villages. My life was a bit to “messy” for a planned community like the Villages. I had big dogs, 2 cats and almost grown kids, and I was a Democrat. My husband was raised on a farm and liked to tinker with messy stuff in the driveway and did not like neighbors in his business. We lived in a rambling house on 2 acres on the Erie Canal with a 200 year old grave yard as our only neighbors. My kids were also very rooted in that house, and my oldest does not like change! Then on my second trip to the Villages, I found the place I had been looking for, politely referred to as the “Historic Side”. It just felt right. I rented a place for December and January and went back to New York to have my heart operation.

It begam as a Vacation scam

September 28, 2008
We have just returned from watching football with our posse at one of our 9 country clubs. The Buffalo Bills won again today. 4Wins/0 Losses for the first time in a decade. All is right with the world.

This blogging stuff is new to me. I called my daughter, Erika this morning and asked for a quick course. She thinks I will enjoy blogging as an avenue to vent about the election. I think she may be right.

Let me talk today about how we found the Villages. I worked for a component division of General Motors. Harrison Radiator, as it was called when we signed on, we manufactured heat transfer products for GM cars and trucks. Harrison employed over 11,000 employees in 1977 when I started and the new lean Delphi Lockport is now down to about 2000 folks making less than half the money we made when we were told to retire. That story is for another day.

A co-worker, Ruth Ann, brought a video into my office one Friday afternoon, and we plugged it into the VCR and had a hoot watching the line dancing, golfers in the Villages. My family loves to travel and being a thrifty traveler, we suffered time share pitches and what ever else we had to endure to subsidize our vacations through the years. The lure of a really cheap vacation in the form of a “Lifestyle Tour” was too much for me to resist. I signed us up for 5 days in April, even though I was just 50 and my husband was 49. My husband, Wayne was not as enthusiastic. He watched the tape and complained that we were no way near ready to join the geriatric group. That was 2003.

Ignoring his protests we flew into Orlando and were greeted by a Limo driver in his early 80’s who told us of the 800 player strong softball leagues that he plays on. Wayne’s interest was slightly peaked as he gave up softball in his thirty’s and saw an opportunity to again be the young ringer on a team. Peaked interest or not his arms were still defiantly crossed as he prepared to hate this vacation that I had planned. “What are we doing here?” he asked , “we are probably 10 years away from retirement and can’t afford this place in any event.” We had one daughter, Erika in her freshmen year at Niagara University, an expensive private college in NY and the other daughter, Briana was still in high school.

It was late when we arrived and we were dropped off at our Villa well after everyone else was down for the night. The driver cheerfully pointed out some of the highlights of Village living and told us to call the sales center in the morning for our Welcome package. I expected the worse. For the bargain vacation (About $25 per night) in very nice accommodations, including the gift of $75 per day in Village dollars, I expected the sales pitch would be over the top high pressure. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

We were used to trying to avoid the obnoxious sales pitches from time share promoters, and were told that we could visit models if we liked, but the package was waiting for us with no obligation. We picked up our package at the Spanish Springs Sales Center and began spending Village Bucks like shoplifting kids in a candy store. Village dollars were currency good only in the Villages, but that proved to be quite a buffet of goodies. We rented a golf cart, went to lunch at Katie Bells and even picked up a bottle of wine at the Village owned Liquor store. Now they had Wayne’s attention. He was still suspicious of the friendly waves from passing villagers, “No one is THAT happy.” He complained

I was curious after several days of exploring, getting lost and spending the Village booty, why no one was badgering us to look at houses. Didn’t they think we were worthy? Had they discovered that we were just young stowaway’s sneaking in for a look under false pretense. I guiltily called the sales rep whose card was included in my welcome package and he assured me that if we wanted to see some properties he could probably find time. Wow! This place is very different.

Our Villa was probably 20 minutes by cart from the Town Square and we sometime had trouble navigating the Labyrinth of Neighborhoods (Villages), but we were having a great time. The sales rep set up tee times for Wayne and showed us several surprisingly affordable (Under $100k) villas and ranch homes. Other than the need to rescue our daughter Briana, from a fight with her friend in Daytona we had a wonderful stress free vacation. She liked it here too. We went to the pools, saw a movie and settled in like residents. If I had my way we would have put money down on a lot that trip but Wayne was still hesitant. He was however waving back now happily to the passing villagers in golf carts like the new mayor. This is like Disney for adults, we concluded.

We went home with plenty to think about, but we still were years away from this option. How unpredictable life can be.

Leisureville

This is a response to Andrew D. Blechman’s interesting, entertaining, misleading and well researched book, Leisureville.

I am one of the Villages baby boomers that you refer to in your book. My bio goes like this: I am a college graduate from Western New York. I have been a social activist since high school. Active in Local politics all of my life, community volunteerism was piled on top of a full time job in the auto industry, raising two children and being active in my union. I helped other parents in our school district raise over $400,000. to provide extra curricular activities for my children’s school, when the “Greatest” generation refused to pass budgets to support them. I have served on the boards of several not for profits and leadership councils, served dinners to the less fortunate and on and on. We are the first generation of women expected to juggle all of the balls. We have gladly and successfully done that.

I object to the notion that we have moved into this community to escape some social obligation that Andrew feels we owe his children. I looked carefully for suggestions from the author as to how we young retirees should behave. We have been pushed into early retirement to allow greedy corporations to employ younger workers at reduced wages and benefits. I got the feeling that his answer was vaguely that we should live above retail stores, in small apartments in urban areas, so we can baby-sit, chasing our children’s careers around the country living near, but not with them until we are ready for nursing homes, and hopefully early deaths so not to use too much of the limited resources that our gracious children benevolently bestow upon us. The only social activism I hear the author participating in is the selfish pursuit of playgrounds for his children.

I could easily have taken another job after my company pushed us out, competing with younger workers, but with unemployment at record levels, is that really what would be best for our country? I could have remained up north in my 3000 square foot home where I raised my family, on a fixed income struggling and complaining about paying ever increasing property taxes, and voting on your children’s school budgets, but is that really what would be best for my community?

I have taught social commitment to my children and am happy to pass the torch to them. I am more than willing to help and mentor, but it is their turn to take the wheel. We are not a society that values our elders, or learns from history. We tend to cast off and disregard our past and are therefore doomed to repeat mistakes. I feel that my choices have a better chance of not repeating the mistakes of the last generation, who held the reigns too long and mentored too little. That is not checking out.

I wish intergenerational planned communities existed like the Villages. Sun, safety, similar interests are the things that drew us to the villages, not the absence of children. Authentic is a word that the author used to describe the community where he lives, but accidental would be more descriptive. Haphazard development is how our suburbs have erupted. The city people that could afford it, escaped to the suburbs, leaving only those that could not afford to move to struggle in poverty in our urban centers. They took their tax base and cheated the inner city schools out of diversity and funding, never looking back. Talk about social conditions that ruined our traditionally urban neighborhoods, look to the suburbs. We Americans should realize that the only way to provide successful communities for the future is to plan them. There is no hope for success in the accidental way our communities now emerge. We have the ability to plan new communities but have only done it on a small experimental scale. It may take an intergenerational Village to secure the successful community of the future. There is the topic for your next book Andrew.