|Making the Bocce team.
I’ve read those letters to the editor (that sound suspiciously like press releases) from a handful of Kent Islanders who support the Four Seasons adult community because they want to live there, and I ask myself…WHY?
If the plans for Four Seasons go through as advertised it should have the charm of a state institution. This is just a personal observation, but if I’m going to be institutionalized in my old age, I want the government to pay for it.
Four Seasons will be a gated development walled off from the community it’s supposed to be part of. (I assume this is to keep out the local riff raff like you and me.)
Residents will all live in identical little houses and condos.
Everyone will be the same age, in the same income bracket, and share the same group mentality. So much for diversity.
In the K. Hovnanian welcome package they’ll receive a large list of things they are forbidden to do, which will be reinforced by a sign at the entrance: “Please leave any trace of personal identity or individuality at the gate before entering.”
But there are advantages. Like the clubhouse which Hovnanian describes as, “A hub of activity where friendships are made and social activities abound.”
This must be true because they show actual photographs of New York fashion models with white hair and perfect teeth having a good laugh over a hand of bridge.
Still, I find it hard to picture myself in my brand new stretch tights from Dollar General at the Wednesday morning aerobics class, or in a string tie and cowboy hat for square dance night, or joining the men’s Bocce team.
But hey, I can enjoy my surroundings. As Hovnanian writes on their website: “Life on Kent Island offers quiet living near pristine farmlands, scenic waterways and charming historic towns such as Annapolis.”
Excuse me for one minute. I feel a gag coming on.
There, that’s better. Where was I?
Oh, right! I was in the clubhouse bonding with beautifully quaffed white-haired models with perfectly sculpted $5,000 dentures, the kind you can eat apples with.
Maybe I just don’t get it, but these places depress me.
I suspect a lot of good people will be enticed there by the marketing-driven images of the sterilized, sanitized, simonized, biodegradable, lint-free world inside the hallowed walls of Four Seasons. For their sake I sincerely hope they don’t pick up the Hovnanian brochure a couple years later, look at all those pictures, look at each other, and ask “What on earth we’re we thinking?”
It takes all kinds, I guess. But I prefer the real world, warts and all. I like being part of the community. I like small towns and old neighborhoods. I like kids playing in the streets. I even like my old house, though I might complain when the plumbing leaks, the screen door falls off the hinges, the windows cloud up, paint starts peeling off the walls, the shed needs cleaning, the lawn needs mowing, and the well runs dry.
But if you ever hear me say I’m ready for an “adult community,” please take me behind the shed and shoot me.
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