Many of my neighbors insist that active, over-55 communities like mine, which I refer to as seniorvilles, are elegant, year-round, sleep away camps for adults. I strongly disagree. To me, the lifestyle is comparable to a five-star cruise ship. A camper must take part in all activities, like it or not — unless they are skilled at faking tummy aches. A captain steers the cruise ship, not each passenger’s personal GPS.
When I was a camp counselor many moons ago, I was given a schedule for the eight girls in my charge. The campers’ days were programmed before the bus even left the city. If they didn’t like their bunk mates…too bad. They were stuck for the summer.
If you cruise, you know that each night the cabin steward leaves a program for the next day’s activities on your bed, along with a towel folded like an animal and two chocolates. Shore excursions are selected before the cruise, but you can change your mind once on board. On a recent family cruise, my children and grandchildren zip-lined through the jungle one day and snorkeled the next. Hubby and I took air-conditioned bus rides or shaded walking tours. Unlike camp, you can also change your seat in the dining room, unless of course you’re traveling with friends. Then, like the camper who hates his or her peers, you’re stuck.
Six-years ago, my husband and I decided to explore the booming Seniorville area 45 minutes north of our home. A realtor introduced us to the first mini-mansion-like community. She pointed out the tennis, basketball, and shuffleboard courts as well as the swimming pools — amenities that this bod has spent a lifetime avoiding. Recently, pickleball, the newest craze for those who actually enjoy chasing ball-like objects in the blazing, tropical sun, has been added. If this tropical seniorville was similar in any way to camp, all the residents would be forced to partake in every athletic endeavor. A shiver ran through my P.E. failure body.
Obviously, the wise realtor sensed we weren’t impressed by the outdoor amenities. She then steered us towards the hotel lobby-like clubhouse. After reading the wide array of no-coordination-required, indoor activities posted on the clubhouse bulletin boards, the two of us knew our days could be filled with interesting and, most important, air-conditioned activities.
Even better, clubhouse card rooms were filled with people playing bridge — a skill mastered in my freshman year of college and Mah Jongg, a game my aunts taught me before my teen years. Finally, we saw what was attracting so many of our peers to these communities.
People who compare seniorville with camp feel so because many of them are literally busy from the time they step out of bed in the morning until they collapse into bed in the evening. They ignore the fact that no one is forcing them to tee off at 7 a.m., lunch at noon, go for an afternoon swim, and then meet friends for dinner before playing Mexican dominos with them. They do this by choice. The same people will be just as occupied on a cruise ship, yet they would never compare a cruise to camp.
An early-morning, two-mile power walk each day has been Hubby’s and my lone, outdoor “sport” for over 35 years. A coat of anti-bug spray and decent walking shoes are the only supplies required for this activity — a cost far less than lessons to improve athletic prowess or massages to reduce pain from sore muscles.
Once home from our walk, unlike programmed campers, my husband and I plan our day. We select activities we prefer or simply sit on our “deck” and watch the sun glisten on the lake. Living in Seniorville is definitely like a cruise ship with one exception — no room service.
Eda Suzanne, a free-lance writer, is the author of the humorous book, Retired NOT Expired. Visit her website at www.edasuzanne.com