Turning 55 this past year was a true milestone. Finally, I was of retirement age and could be officially labeled as a senior citizen even though I’ve been getting AARP Magazine for the past five years! My husband, Bill, who is three years older has been enjoying his senior status, especially since he became a grandpa or “Pappy” as the girls call him. His mother is going strong at 80 and I am doubly blessed by having both of my parents who are well into their 80’s now.
Since I was born when my dad was 30, I can easily do the math to recall his age. Here’s the best part, besides him being an active octogenarian and despite the age difference, we’ve reached a “time warp” phenomenon that seals the age gap between parents and their children. Here’s another perk, he now owns a home in The Villages and we get to enjoy the benefits.
He would love to spend the winters in the Villages but my mother’s health is frail and she is more comfortable in her southern Illinois home, close to family. For now, he visits whenever he can, taking family along. He enjoys walking in the early morning hours around the beautiful homes and manicured lawns in his “village.” Even though, he’s not a golfer, golf car transportation is also one of his favorite modes of travel.
Speaking of travel, my first trip to The Villages, this past January was quite an experience. We decided to fly from a small airport in southern Illinois to the Orlando/Sandford Airport. Flying is not my favorite method of transportation (I prefer golf carts, too) but it’s a wonder what a tiny little Ativan can do for flight anxiety. Unfortunately, our plane was six hours late! When we finally boarded around 12:30 a.m. (this was supposed to be a 6 pm. flight!) we breathed a sigh of relief until they told us we could not leave the ground because of a discrepancy between the tickets and passenger count. Apparently, there was one extra person on board! Of course, my anxious mind was thinking “terrorist” all the while the airline staff were checking boarding passes, person by person. Thankfully, it was just a little girl who boarded with her family with her ticket still in her book bag; an easy oversight. It was a wonder that the airline staff were able to function at all considering the long delay. I was just praying that the pilot was well rested!
We arrived safely at Orlando/Sandford around 4:30 a.m., rented a car and drove another hour to The Villages house. Even though it was a bright sunny 75-degree January morning, the master bedroom was calling our names. Bill and I decided to sleep to noon before finding some recreation. My dad, however, had other plans. He was up and around at 8 am., not wanting to waste even half a day! We knew this by waking up to the sound of his spoon scraping the sides of his cereal bowl.
Looking fatigued, confused and Midwest pale, I was afraid that the Village residents might think Zombies has invaded their paradise, but everyone we met was more than gracious, helpful and understanding. Kind neighbors gave us directions and practical advice to make the most of our short vacation. We did just that and thankfully our return flight to southern Illinois was uneventful. It’s too bad that the age-time warp doesn’t work for time travel. Even though the golf carts at the Villages are first class and the youthful looking residents seem to have turned back time, I’m waiting for someone to invent a golf cart time machine that could get us to and from the Villages at the speed of light!
Martha Peeples’ father is a part-time resident of the Village of Hemingway.