So I wake up wondering — first thought of the morning — HOW the hell I’m going to stay out of that venerable old-folkerie, the Beatitudes. Remembering how my father thought its direct competitor, Orangewood (now called The Terraces), was THE most brilliant idea that came around, and how my mother resisted and refused to go in there, and then how my father suffered (almost as much as she did) as she lay dying of cancer while he struggled to care for her in their little house in Sun City, all by himself.
The neighbors threw a birthday party last week for my walking pal, Marge. She’s NINETY-SEVEN YEARS OLD and still going strong! With no plans to retire to an old-folkerie.
The way she pulls it off, as I may have explained before, is that she took out a large home equity loan against her paid-off house. Her husband and her only child pre-deceased her, and so she has no reason to preserve the value in that house to pass it along to the next generation.
This maneuver provided plenty of cash for her to hire folks to come in and help her.
I really can’t do that. Well…I could. But I don’t wanna. I want to leave this house to my son. If I take out a $300,000 loan against it, he’ll be cut out of my ENTIRE estate: however much of my cash I need to eat and house myself, plus whatever I borrow to stave off some avaricious “retirement home.”
Problem is…longevity runs on the distaff side of my family. Average age at death of people in the past three generations has been 81.5 years — a figure dragged down by my mother committing suicide by tobacco and my uncle climbing on a chair to change a ceiling lightbulb, falling, breaking a hip, and subsequently dying. If you take my mother’s suicide out of the equation, the average life span over the past three generations has been 84 years. If you remove my father’s side and my mother’s suicide, then you get an average lifespan of 89 years. This would stay the same if you included my father’s nonsmoking brother, who died at 89 in the chair-climbing exploit.
It would appear that two habits sharply shortened life spans in both sides of the family: smoking and promiscuity. Those who did not smoke, did not drink, and did not cat around lived into their 90s. Consistently!
Oh well. Let us assume that even without undue deprivation, here in the 21st century it’s reasonable to expect to live well into one’s 90s.
Now you really ARE faced with the question of how you stay out of a prison for the decrepit elderly. Most of the work around this house is done by hired help now. But…even wrangling the underlings is a challenge — and likely to get more and more difficult the older one gets.
I’m thinking a possible — indeed, probable — solution for that is to move into a condo, one where the exterior is cared for by the HOA and the interior can easily be handled by casual hired help. Once ensconced, then, all you’d need to do is hire a traveling nurse or some such to help you with health care and maybe driving.
Several of my friends are living in a high-rise apartment building on Central Avenue. It’s smack in the middle of everything, and the views are incredible. So…I see that as one possibility.
Additionally, another high-rise is going in right across the street from AJ’s, my favorite grocery-store hangout. This building will combine office space with apartment rentals. I imagine the price will be staggering…but…but…
Yes: but… From there I can walk to my son’s house. And it’s right on the light-rail line. If I decided (as I’ve been contemplating) to change my church affiliation from the North Central outfit to the downtown Cathedral, that light-rail would let me off right in front of the place. A friend lives in the downtown area and likes to habituate the restaurants in that part of town: she and I could meet down there and, again: I wouldn’t have to risk my life in a car to get there.
Another possibility is an aging but rather elegant apartment house directly across the street from the Cult HQ. The place has been there as long as I’ve lived in Phoenix…and given construction standards here, that means it’s poorly insulated for heat as well as for sound: hot and noisy! On the other hand: it’s right on Central, so the city bus would take me straight down to AJ’s front door. A three-block stroll to Seventh Avenue would deliver me to a bus stop for a line that goes directly past my son’s house. So if driving were taken away from me, I still would be able to get to my main day-to-day destinations.
So…there are alternatives to the dreaded “life-care community” option — some of them pretty good alternatives.
I’m curious about how the water situation in Arizona factors into your plans. I’m not there, but from afar, it looks like the entire state is about to become arid and uninhabitable. My instinct would be to sell now and get out before the value of your home craters.
What do you think is going to happen, and what do you think the timeline is? Or do you think the issue is overblown?
😀 The entire state IS arid and uninhabitable. Has been as long as I’ve lived here.
Water to supply the cities and most of the farms comes from two sources (remember: i are a english major; i are not a hydrologist…so take this stuff with the proverbial grain):
1. The Colorado and Salt Rivers. Both of these are elaborately dammed, allowing storage and redistribution of annual inflows.
2. Ground water. In places such as Rio Verde (a sub-suburb of Fountain Hills), much of the domestic water has been supplied by wells. These are running dry in some locales. It remains to be seen how that issue will be addressed.
Agricultural water, however, is largely supplied by rivers and to a lesser extent by underground reservoirs of ground water.
Common sense does suggest that, barring a surprise new direction in climate change, eventually the state will run out of water for continuing and new development. Bear in mind, though, that “common sense” is not an attribute of our honored leaders here…so we proceed largely by Guess and by God.
As an old lady, I don’t have all that many years left. Based on the life spans of my parents’ relatives, my guess is about 12 years is as long as I’m likely to be holding forth. I don’t think the state is likely to run dry in that time. My son, however, really should be thinking about other places to live…
Thanks!
The Beatitudes is perfect for my Mum. She loves the meals, she says they can get boring but then she says so does her own cooking. My sis and I pick her up for a bit of groceries, a movie or to visit others who are shut in. There’s housekeeping built in and plenty of activities besides exercise class. Always something happening like floral shows or travel logs. We almost have to make appointments to see her. It’s very safe and we’ll cared for. Sound doesn’t carry from one apartment to another is a plus. Don’t mark it off your list yet. Remember Fry’s delivers.
“Doesn’t carry from one apartment to another” is huge. My mother-in-law, like many older folks, grew harder & harder of hearing as she aged. She would sit in front of the TV with the sound BLASTING into the room…and through the cardboard walls between apartments. That would drive me batsh!t crazy!f
That was in Colorado. Here in Arizona, when SDXB’s mother Tootsie was in the convalescent wing at the Beatitudes, some woman down the hall would do the same: you could hear her TV yammering on way, way, wayyyyy down the hall. Apparently she never turned the damn thing off…it was babbling on every time we visited.
The Beatitudes is certainly safe as long as you stay on the grounds. You could not pay me to go into the Fry’s grocery store directly across Glendale Road, east of 19th. It’s very dangerous — the hostess at the cocktail lounge/restaurant in that shopping center was murdered as she was closing up one night. If you want to leave, you need to get in your car and LEAVE — walking around the neighborhood for exercise would be ill-advised.
I’m fairly demanding about my food. I expect fresh food, not stuff that comes out of boxes and cans. In my experience there — which is now considerable, since Joan & Lee delighted in inviting me to breakfast and dinner — most of the chow is packaged and frozen prepared gunk. Not to my taste, alas.
But you do have a kitchen in your apartment, so in theory you could cook most or all of your meals, provided you feel up to it. But then…heh…why move out of your home? 😀
The Beatitudes is perfect for my Mum. She loves the meals, she says they can get boring but hers do too she says Don’t mark it off your list yet. Remember Fry’s delivers.
My aunt lives at Friendship Village. She likes it because she has a cottage, rather than an apartment. She hesitated because she didn’t want to be in an old-people ghetto, but has loved it. She comes and goes as she pleases, there are a wide variety of activities, and she doesn’t have to worry about safety or home repairs.
She is required to spend a certain amount at the cafeteria. This seems pretty standard. They have an excellent salad bar, which is fresh. She still does a lot of her own cooking.
Part of aging is that the taste buds fade. In general, older people have less ability to taste flavors other than sweet and salt. You may be an outlier in this, which is why food designed for older audiences repels you.
LOL! Americans’ taste buds in general are faded.,.,. Seriously: American food is largely awful — packaged, frozen, dried, reconstituted schlock.
My mother knew how to cook, and she cooked wonderful meals. I grew up eating real food, mostly prepared from scratch. Result: I find stuff that comes out of boxes, bags, and cans repellent. So…IMHO, it has nothing to do with age and everything to do with the dreadful excuse for food that is foisted on Americans. It’s just NOT THAT HARD to prepare a meal from fresh ingredients. And the difference between real food and the gunk that comes out of packages is day and night. As for institutional food? Yech!!!
Funny, I’m so glad you are considering an apartment (or a condo). This is the route I took in order to be able to handle the stresses of life. I sold the big house and moved into a lovely apartment right near my daughter. At the time I lived in the house, my daughter lived 6 hours away by car but now, the dear has me right down the street which (she claims, bless her heart) is what she always wanted. I live near a fantastic downtown area and can be regularly found rooting through the shops, enjoying good food at the restaurants and walking around the beautifully maintained streets of our neighborhood. Life can still be hard at times but I have found that living safely within my physical means has made me much happier.