Other Stuff

OK, I'm over the "patriarch" issue, at least for the moment. On to other stuff.

I live in a "retirement community," another name for "senior housing". I used to make fun of this place when I was a kid. My dad used to call Leisure Town "the only cemetery with street lights." Mom, when they used to travel, would send cards addressed to a friend who lived here, but instead of puting "Vacaville," she would put things like "Limp Richard Village," or "Floppy Johnson Meadows," but the Zip was correct, so they always got delivered.
Well, now I'm one of the "old folks," and I see the alure of age-controlled housing. Mom, who's still kicking, and will be 84 on Tuesday Feb. 16, lives in a "regular" neighborhood, with families, kids, and people with lots of "toys". She has two neighbor-boys who like to climb trees, and she's scared they'll fall out of her tree, and she'll ge sued. Me, at 58, I'm one of the "youngsters" on my block. Our neighborhood association provides RV and boat parking, outside of the streets, and regulates parking. No one climbing trees, no loud parties, it's pretty quiet here in the Meadows. About the only noise we get is sirens, but that happens so often, it's almost become part of the background noise.
I have some good neighbors, and we look out for each other as though we've been neighbors for decades (we've been in this house for almost 14 months). The last time we went to San Diego, my neighbor had a panic attack, because she didn't see us for a while. It's forgivable, as the previous owner of my house died in her bedroom. I promised to let her know when we would be leaving for extended periods. Mom refers to her neighbor by an ethnic slur (he's Latino), because she doesn't know his name. They've lived there seven years. I like my neighborhood.
I mentioned the sirens... I had an "evil" thought, a while back, when we first rented here in Leisure Town: set up a system that detects sirens, and plays Queen's Another One Bites the Dust. Been here three years now, and it's still the first thing I think of when I hear sirens. Cruel, but it's still an amusing thought.
Music. Love music. I'm fairly eclectic when it comes to music (see Profile). Love the Blues, Eric Clapton, BB, Susan Tedeschi, lots of others. Saw Maria Muldar at a blues-cafe in Sunnyvale about 10 years ago, and she was wailing as a blues singer. There was a lot more than Midnight at the Oasis to her. I'm running i-Tunes, have an i-Pod, and about two and a half days of music stored. Just finished listening to Master of the House from Les Miz, and now, Something by the Beatles. I love technology. At least the kind I understand.
I don't get i-Phones, or i-Pads, or Blackberrys, or whatever. I have a cell phone, it makes the Jitterbug look like a top-of-the-line phone, but it serves my purpose. I prepay time, use it when I need it, and don't use it that often. I have a young (35) friend with an i-Phone who can't seem to resist telling me how "cool" it is to have a computer in the palm of your hand. He doesn't seem to understand my not wanting one, considering my Navy computer experience, but even in the "Digital Age," I'm still kind of old fashioned. I like to talk to people, but face-to-face, not while I'm in the grocery store. To me, a cell phone is a convinence, not something I live with.
In my thinking, a cell phone is a teather, a leash, another means by which someone can contact me when I'm not at home. If I want to be contacted, I'll give the person my cell number, or take the privacy feature off when I call, so they can have the number on Caller ID. Most of the time, my phone is off anyway, and usually laying on the counter top. If I'm traveling, or expecting a call from someone to whom I've given the number (and there aren't many of 'em), I'll carry it. I guess, with my mom's situation, I should probably take it with me to the golf course, but I'm the guy who hates it when people bring cell phones out on the links. I've had them go off in the middle of a swing, in the middle of putting, and I'd like to take a 5-iron to the phone, and the "bonehead" who's yakking away, oblivious to the fact that I'd like to see him dead.
I'm just not that damned important, that the world needs to get in touch with me 24/7. After a career in the Navy, where "privacy" is a screen between toilets, I like my privacy. It's probably one of the top-five things I like about golf. I can play my own game; think my own thoughts. If I'm in a foursome, or other grouping, I can be social, but, even in a foursome, there's space, and unless someone is keeping an official score, my score is a private matter. When people ask about my golf handicap, I usually tell them "Oh, Driver, 3-, 5-, and 9-woods, two hybrids, five irons, two wedges, and a putter." Actually, I'm not that bad, if you consider the fact that only something like 20% of golfers break 100 on a regular basis.
That brings up something else... At one time, and we're talking golf here, I was a 9-handicap, back before "slopes," which means I was shooting low-80's all the time. I've broken 80 a few times, but I was young (pre-40's) back then. At 51, I had a stroke. August 6, 2002, and I was the head coach of a high school girl's team who's season started on the 19th. Golf hasn't been quite as rewarding since then. I can still break 100, but it's more of a challenge, now. I play on, however, and recently had one of golf's most rewarding things, a Hole-in-one, on the Par 3 11th Hole at Cypress Lakes. It was my first in more than 40 years of playing.
Larry, I see you've been here before, so I hope you'll let me know what you think. You've got the e-mail...