By Judith Amber
I moved into senior housing after a long search. My first choice was to live in a guesthouse on a country estate. I would also gladly settle for unit in a duplex or triplex. Apartments aren’t my cup of tea. Noise from above, below, and either side—I’ve experienced it all.
The ideal housing proved elusive in a college town. I faced stiff competition especially owning a Maine Coon cat, Ulie. Pets are rarely welcome in rentals. Since my search for age-integrated housing hadn’t panned out, I reluctantly phoned a senior housing complex. My cat was acceptable and an apartment was coming up soon. I decided to move into Seaview Apartments.
Built seven years ago, it has many amenities. My unit faces a large courtyard featuring fountains, carp pools and a hot tub. The lush landscaping includes several kinds of palm trees and flowering bushes. Other features include a huge community room, spa and an outdoor barbeque area. What’s not to like?
What’s not to like was the entrance sign saying Senior Residence. Although I’m over 65, I‘ve considered myself a Baby Boomer, not a senior. My residence would bestow a new identity I was reluctant to have. Or perhaps it was that I viewed old age as an infectious disease..
“Once I come down with a full blown case of old age, I’ll never shake it off,” I told myself. What’s more, my career had been in the field of gerontology. How ironic that I was now one of the people for whom I had planned services. It felt strange and unsettling.
Then there was the generation gap. Many of the residents are in their 80’s. Their music—Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, Benny Goodman—is not my generation’s music. Give me the Beatles, Joan Baez, Taj Mahal. The on-site activities were typical of a senior center: bingo, needle point, and sing-alongs of old standards that do not include “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”.
So for the first few months I kept my distance from the activities and other residents and spent far too much money hanging out at Starbucks just to see some people under 70. Avoiding other residents by skipping bingo may work for awhile, but gradually I met them in other ways. I assumed that I was the youngest resident, but while in the hot tub, I met a man of 63 who likes classic rock. We went to a wine festival concert and danced like we were 30. He introduced me to two other women which led to movie outings. I discovered that the possibilities for socializing were unlimited.
Another time, a woman with spiked blonde hair passed by my living room window talking to a beautiful orange cat in her arms. She inquired about my cat who was traumatized by our move and had stopped eating. She brought over cans of liver pate saying: “If he doesn’t eat this, he’s beyond help.” He ate it and started gaining back weight. Every evening she walks through the courtyard and raises her cat as a greeting, hoping the two cats can be friends as we are.
Now that I’ve lived at Seaview Apartments for a year, my worries about spending my days playing bingo and watching the soaps seem silly. My health is still excellent and I look about the same, give or take a wrinkle or two. My fear of catching old age proved unfounded. Chatting with older residents has given me a new perspective on my life. I realize that you can live anywhere and keep your identity intact. What’s not to like?
Judith Bernstein is a member of SLO NightWriters, the premier writing organization on the Central Coast of California. After working for non-profits and government for more than 30 years, Judith is semi-retired and so has more time for writing. Her articles have appeared in The New Times, Edible SLO, The Tribune, Oregon Coast Magazine and her poetry in Talus.
