Wednesday, November 27, 2013

20 Reasons I'm Thankful to Live in a Retirement Community

By Ann Burnside Love

• Someone else cleans my apartment regularly, changes my bed linen, and recycles my newspapers. (If this sounds wonderful, it is.) After certain breaks in health, I really can't do many of these things. And I'm most grateful for their services because they allow me time to continue my professional career at the level I do.

• At Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter and more holidays, our kitchen staff throws banquets for us so delicious that family members love to come. Thus I still have a turn in the family cycle for holiday entertaining.

• Vanessa, the cat, is happy here, has engraved all her habits, wishes and desires upon my brain, and she hasn't yet climbed from my balcony to the roof, as others’ cats have.

• When my garbage disposal broke down, all I had to do was phone maintenance and it was fixed by the next day.

• Someone else clears my car of snow and ice before I go out.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Seasonal residents: Now they’re here, now they’re away

By Ann Burnside Love

The new lady in the apartment next door moved in, then disappeared. Six months later she returned. Seems she owns a summer home in Maine where the community requires residents to be there for six months a year. Her brood is large, and each family loves to come there for a couple of weeks every summer. But there would be gaps if no one were in residence continuously.

Actually, she’s due back from her second and what she said would be her last summer away for six months, because she’s too tired to keep it up. So when she sold her house in our area, she established her new home in our senior residential community so it would be ready and waiting for her at all times. This is her permanent home.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

The Dumbest Thing I Actually Worried About Before Moving

By Ann Burnside Love

It had to do with something I’d never lacked before and truly valued above much else. Actually, I felt guilty that I was even thinking about this possibility, but so it was.

Separately, I was happy and excited about the apartment I’d chosen. I was practical enough not to really worry about the actual moving process, once my daughter and I planned it down to the tiniest detail. A lot of the important-to-me worry stuff was being taken care of — having to do with possessions I was passing along to the next generations.

My oversize recliners, comfortable and beloved by all, went to No. 2 Son and his family, my piano to No. 3 Son whose young family loved music. The round dining room table and chairs, with carpet, went to No. 1 Son’s family. And the capacious mahogany buffet from my late husband’s family went to my daughter, along with a selection of the china, silver and linens that lived within. Then the whole family, including grown grandchildren, got to choose a share of the lovely things left throughout the house — bargaining with each other so politely I was stunned. My concern about fairness was resolved.

But when all that was settled, I was still left with inside-the-churning-brain worry, the dark kind: I was entering a group of a couple hundred people. Would I be comfortable with the established residents and they with me? I knew a few, but just acquaintances. Would there be people with whom to converse, think aloud, learn from … and laugh?

Thursday, November 7, 2013

What Residence is Right for You?

By Ann Burnside Love
When I finally decided to move from my spacious “first” retirement home in a 55 and up development, I knew that I would again have to condense my belongings, and I had to decide which residence—apartment or cottage—would work best to create a comfortable home, as well as showcase my most valued possessions and allow me to continue my active writing life. Thus, a must, in my case, was a place I could set up my writing and business office. So I chose an apartment layout with one bedroom, two baths (one for me, one for Vanessa, the cat), and a den that let me create a horseshoe in which to build a surround of equipment.
It all fit: filing cabinets, computer, printer, a variety of well-lighted work surfaces, outlets and whatever. There was room for the five-drawer legal file that preserves my writing career. Plus the tall metal cabinet that stores supplies galore. I also needed shelves—lots of shelves. Throughout my life I’ve always been able to fill all available shelves, plus more.