Let's get one thing straight from the beginning; I am not yet 55. My dear parter of 30 years is not 55 either.
But, we are moving in to a 55 Plus Active Adult Community anyway. This should be interesting. We are Irish. Gay. I don't play golf, but Frances does - or used to before she banged up her shoulder. I moved the golf clubs in to the new house today and we have the golf cart in the event that the shoulder improves....
I have met some of our new neighbors. Bill and Helene from Germany seem nice; she is recovering from knee replacement surgery and he is the "unofficial" mayor of our little cul de sac - or would be if Clint from Montana did not want the job. Lidia has a heart of gold from what I can tell; she is 75 years old, healthy and - at least so far - not an unkind word to say about anyone. Of course, we haven't fully moved in yet.
This community is huge and right outside of Phoenix. Dad wants to know if we have met any illegal aliens yet - this because his only sense of Arizona is from Fox News. I assured Dad that we most likely had already welcomed illegal alliens into our home several times; case in point, I have not asked for the papers of the guys who are tearing my kitchen cabinets out as I type. I am pretty sure that the guys who are installing the new cabinets next week will have papers, but I am not asking. Don't ask. Don't tell. Wasn't that the Clinton administration's answer for complicated diversity issues? Works for me.
We are moving here because we really want to be part of a community. We want to easily meet people. We also have more in common with boomers than with parents of toddlers; if I am going to hang out with somebody, parents of toddlers are really not my target market. Unless they are related to me. In which case, I have arranged for a slightly uncomfortable pull out couch and I hope that they will visit often.
But, we are moving in to a 55 Plus Active Adult Community anyway. This should be interesting. We are Irish. Gay. I don't play golf, but Frances does - or used to before she banged up her shoulder. I moved the golf clubs in to the new house today and we have the golf cart in the event that the shoulder improves....
I have met some of our new neighbors. Bill and Helene from Germany seem nice; she is recovering from knee replacement surgery and he is the "unofficial" mayor of our little cul de sac - or would be if Clint from Montana did not want the job. Lidia has a heart of gold from what I can tell; she is 75 years old, healthy and - at least so far - not an unkind word to say about anyone. Of course, we haven't fully moved in yet.
This community is huge and right outside of Phoenix. Dad wants to know if we have met any illegal aliens yet - this because his only sense of Arizona is from Fox News. I assured Dad that we most likely had already welcomed illegal alliens into our home several times; case in point, I have not asked for the papers of the guys who are tearing my kitchen cabinets out as I type. I am pretty sure that the guys who are installing the new cabinets next week will have papers, but I am not asking. Don't ask. Don't tell. Wasn't that the Clinton administration's answer for complicated diversity issues? Works for me.
We are moving here because we really want to be part of a community. We want to easily meet people. We also have more in common with boomers than with parents of toddlers; if I am going to hang out with somebody, parents of toddlers are really not my target market. Unless they are related to me. In which case, I have arranged for a slightly uncomfortable pull out couch and I hope that they will visit often.
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