I rode the GSV shuttle to Charlie Brown’s in Reading with the Red Hat Ladies today. In stark contrast to my experience with the first Red Hat Ladies group, mostly from independent living cottages and carriage houses, this group, guided by Colleen Musselman, Director of Life Enrichment, has two members in wheelchairs and one with a walker. The shuttle with the wheelchair lift must be used for transporting the ladies to the restaurant of their choice each month and no entertainment or shopping is typically scheduled afterward.

Mary Lou, the leader of the group, sat down at the very end of the table, a couple seats away from the rest. Her reason for this was because her hearing aids cannot receive two conversations at once, so the din presented by this lively group basically prevents her from hearing anything. However, this did not stop her from being one of the funniest stand-up comediennes I have ever had the privelege to hear. Her wry sense of humor, bold New England accent and keen sense of timing had everyone rolling.

Mary Lou and her friend Anne were a team. Anne would tell a joke and Mary Lou would say, “let me tell you a story about Anne” and launch into one of the hundreds of stories apparently comprising the legacy of the 92-year-old’s jet set life and many romances. She began by reciting, “How you know you are from Lancaster County”:

“You know how to cook, but not without butter.”

“The local Post Office used to be a single-family home and they close between noon and 1 for lunch.”

“You do not giggle when you see the following signs: Lititz, Intercourse, Blue Ball, Bird-in-Hand.”

“You go to the store when the milk is ‘all’.”

“The local paper covers National and International headlines on one page, but requires six pages for local sports.”

“You think the start of deer hunting is a national holiday.”

Ok, well you get the picture…

Don’t let anyone tell you older adults are not political. A heated discussion on the numerous Lancaster County and national candidates took place and every person on the shuttle participated. Colleen and I were looking at each other, as we did not recognize half of the names they were mentioning.

Many of the ladies had served on local city councils and school boards, many were Republican (GSV is a Republican retirement community, one professed, although Colleen was quick to point out this was the residents’ PERSONAL opinion and in no way represented the factual demographic of the community).

Anne said women politicians are a minority in Lancaster County, blaming it on the conservative reputation of the region. She commented on Presidential candidate and former Law & Order actor Fred Thompson, “He thinks because Ronald Reagan got to be President HE can too!”

When I exited the shuttle, I remembered what Will Rogers once said: “We could certainly slow the aging process down if it had to work its way through Congress.”

Indeed.

The politically correct term for where we are staying is a “Retirement Community”. Words like “Home” or “Facility” are not considered polite.

However, there is more to this than mere nomenclature… what we call things does matter… it shapes our preconceptions of what something will be like and influences how we interact with it.

Retirement communities today… especially this one (where other retirement communities regularly visit to see how they do things here), are designed for life… not the warehousing of people.

When my wife moved me in she described it as more like a resort than a “home”.

But don’t take my word for it… listen to a story that I have heard from two people now… one was the grandmother and the other was a person walking past them in the hall…

A grandmother and her grandson were walking down the hall when the grandson said to his grandmother, “This place is unfair!”

“Why?” asked the grandmother.

“Because it’s only for grandmas and grandpas but there are lots of things here that kids like to do too!”

Out of the mouths of grandsons… he is so right.

I can tell you this… I will be putting my wife’s and my name on the list at a retirement community a lot sooner than I thought. And I will also be having some conversations with my mother and mother-in-law when I move out… this is certainly not their parent’s retirement “home”.

The “Lunch Bunch” at Garden Spot Village is the brainchild of Jim, the former undertaker you have heard both Bob Fell and I speak so highly of. The group was originally designed so those residents who were single could socialize together and explore different types of dining in different cities. It does not surprise me that Jim formed a single’s group here of which the majority was WOMEN.

As the rest of the community discovered the fun “Lunch Bunch” was having, some of the married couples decided it was unfair that this group should cater only to singles, and in an uprising, boldly barnstormed the club, never to be left back at the ranch again. So, the “Lunch Bunch” is now an eclectic mix of younger and older, single and married, and not mostly women.  Each month, they visit a different dining establishment by bus (no repeats allowed – even if the food was amazing!).

The highlight of my day was meeting the adorable Lucy and Warren. They are a German couple who were acquaintances in Germany and eventually moved to the United States in their twenties to pursue careers in New York City. They married here. The most obvious thing about Warren was that he worshipped Lucy. He stroked her hair, put his arm around her, laughed with her, playfully teased and told stories and proclaimed that she was “the best.” And Lucy loved it. She also went out of her way to make sure that she was introduced to me and seemed to have a genuine interest and care for the people around her. They smiled often and said that sometimes they do speak in German to one another to keep from forgetting it. When the food was served, Lucy got chicken parmesan which was unfortunately very overcooked—one of the downsides to eating with a group of 30. She struggled to cut the meat and eventually surrendered the majority of it to her husband for carving and consumption.  They spoke dreamily of their days growing up in the city and eventually raising a family in Long Island. Lucy said they used to drive up to see the grandchildren play sports—“my grandchildren are involved in everything! We used to go see them, but now they must come see us.” Fortunately, the grandchildren are on traveling soccer teams so they are able to work a few trips a year in around Garden Spot Village.

Best thing learned today:

You can still be totally in love with someone at 90. TOTALLY IN LOVE. Hopelessly, with abandon, eternally, physically, emotionally, spiritually in love.

The generations in retirement communities are mostly a mix of those that went through the Depression, WW II and the Korean War.

I am learning to love that time in our country and love a little less this time in our country. So many have told me they are happy they were a part of that time… they are glad they’re not in the main stream now. But it’s not because of what this time is as much as what the past time was… it was a time of struggle, a time of sacrifice and a time of loss… but it was also a time that solidified a country and its people and defined the generations that went through it.

Universally they are thankful for the defining moments in their life… seeing the good that came out of the bad… the sweet that came after the sour.

The Depression taught them to be frugal and plan ahead, as well as how to share. WW II taught them how to sacrifice for something bigger than themselves and how to rally together. And while I have to admit that I never gave much thought to the Korean War (except that it didn’t look that bad from the MASH reruns I saw)… it was a war where more than 36,000 people died and it was only five years after WW II. This taught them never to take anything… even peace… for granted.

I am left feeling mildly envious of the strength of character they possess… the sense of purpose and their common bonds. I am also left wondering about us Baby Boomers… what defines us…

Yes, you can say Vietnam… but what did Vietnam teach us? Skepticism? The power of the individual? Both worthy things… but not the basis of a generation. Looking back… I think our legacy is that of skeptical individualists… we don’t trust or join, we look out for ourselves and our own… we get our share and more if we can.

No… we are not evil and wrong, and the older generations aren’t perfect and pristine… but doesn’t it make you think about your life going forward?

It makes me think about what we’re going to be like as we age… what will define us… what will drive us… and what does that mean for the marketplace who is trying to please us?

On the shuttle bus provided by Garden Spot Village twice a month to Park City Center, a shopping mall in Lancaster PA, Michelle, our beloved intern and I met Ida.

Ida reminded me of a Southern gentlewoman – her hair was pinned into curls, and she was decked out in her finest summer cotton print dress, white hose, open-toed sensible sandals and a sparkling white cardigan sweater. Her pocketbook was woven straw and she was the perfect picture of a sophisticated matriarch. Ida said that to her, shopping is therapy, especially this day, as she had just found out that her much younger brother is gravely ill with cancer at 55 years of age and she is feeling both guilty, for being older and yet healthier, and saddened that he is to retire next year from his teaching position and now may never have time to spend with his growing children.

I picture Ida in a sorority at Alabama State. In truth, she lived in Pottstown, Pennsylvania growing up, then moved to New Holland right before high school. Ida dispels the idea that she is a “small town girl,” and it was very important for her to communicate to us that she hated moving to New Holland at that time because it was so much smaller than Pottstown (which in reality is a bitty town, too). It was a burning desire for her as a young woman to leave the tight-knit community where “everyone knows everyone else’s business” never to return. Ironically, here she sits, a Garden Spot Village resident, just a mile from where she graduated from New Holland High School.

We drive by the school and all that is left is rubble on the ground. “They just tore it down to build some business,” Ida says with a bit of disgust apparent in her voice. But then suddenly cheerful she says, “my old school friends and I still get together once a month for lunch and we all bought a brick from the rubble before they got rid of it, for old memories’ sake.” She is a dichotomy. Ida married a man in the Air Force and she was a nurse. She took great pride in her nurse’s uniform and hat and is a little miffed at the quality of nurse’s uniforms today. She’s a little miffed at the quality of attire and fashion in general today.

Ida caught me people watching in the mall later and asked how I was doing. I told her that it had been ages since I had been to a mall and was making note of what people were wearing or buying because I have no idea what’s going to be in this fall season. She agreed that it was good to watch, but that people today dress so casually. Ida shared with me that she has found that the better you are dressed, the more apt a sales clerk is likely to wait on you. Although in general sales clerks don’t make themselves available like she wishes they would to older adults and instead you have to go search them out. She even told me that she feels sorry for today’s young people because they have no where to go to “dress up.” “Hats, gloves, gowns make you feel special, pretty and feminine and younger women today are missing out on it.”

To quote Jimgens blog, “I knew it was bound to happen when big time designers started coming out with underwear bearing (or should I say baring) their labels. I was walking down the sidewalk yesterday and couldn’t help but observe the guy walking in front of me. He was a good fifteen years beyond his teens, but I guess nobody told him. His jeans were down just under his buttocks and his entire butt was sticking out, proudly showing off his briefs with me and anybody else that happened to be looking. Why he would think we wanted to see is beyond my comprehension. In my day, we would die of mortification if the waistband of our Hanes or Jockeys happened to protrude above our belts.

“While I was observing Mr. Wanna C. My Drawers, it reminded me of something. Took me a while to figure out what, though. Then it dawned on me. With those jeans worn down below the buttocks, the seat of the pants fell about knee level sort of satchel-like. Then I recalled my infant son, many years ago, waddling away, his diaper exposing his little Po Po, because of the disgusting load the diaper was carrying. Funny I should think of that. Looking in almost any direction, I saw that young men today have disdained dress shirts and ties for headbands, T-shirts with faded slogans, rubber bracelets, leather necklaces with silver pendants of indeterminant design–all carefully arranged to accent the exposed underwear, I suppose. Maybe it’s just a backlash. Maybe the guys got tired of being the only half of the population covered up. I’ve seen more London and Stars on women lately than I care to. (If you don’t get the London and Stars reference, the jingle ended with “I see someone’s under drawers.”)

Of course I’m dating myself. I’m old. I’ve lived hard for the lines on my face and the sag in my jowls. I’ve enjoyed all those years, but have no desire to live them again–especially those parts that were down right difficult. My generation (what’s left of us) survived without a tooth in our ears and our underwear exposed to the world. And, yes, we had fun!”