My dream of what senior living can be
By Nick Jacobs
My wife and I recently decided to take a tour of a 55 and older, upscale, senior living community. We were aware of several friends who had done this, and as we approached octogenarian status, it seemed like the smart thing to do. Truth be told, however, we had experienced a for-profit senior living facility with one of our parents, and both of us still suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder when we even think about it.
As a former marketing guy, several things crossed my mind. The number one issue was the value proposition. We knew we’d have to sell our house, downsize significantly, and become, at minimum, neighbors of a very eclectic group of people. The worst part of it was having to move from a vibrant little cul-de-sac with residents of all ages to a place filled with people our age and older. Neither of us is excited about being around just elderly people.
Initially, it seemed logical that the finances would be explained on a cost comparison basis, but that doesn’t appear to be the routine. For example, compare on a spreadsheet what it costs to maintain a house, home insurance, lawn upkeep, snow removal, utilities, maintenance, and security, present and future. And how much could we leave our grandkids?
We weren’t so much concerned about losing our independence or autonomy at this point because we are both still active, have two cars, and have family nearby. Plus, we had planned to purchase a condo there.
In our dreams, we saw our younger selves hanging out with our college buddies. Unfortunately, not unlike the 70 trips I made for work to Florida, when we arrived, we saw lots of canes, walkers, and wheelchairs. It is one thing to understand your fate. It’s another thing to surround yourself with visual reminders of your potential future.
That was when my sometimes excessively fertile imagination took over. Having made work trips to both Celebration and Lake Nona in Florida, my mind ran wild with all the things that could be part of a senior experience. I immediately thought about a new model of care that rivaled nothing I had seen anywhere else. I’m not talking about that giant place in Florida, Heaven’s Waiting Room, where alcohol begins flowing freely by mid-morning, and one of their top illness categories after heart disease and cancer is sexually transmitted diseases. I was thinking about a place where the fun themes of our Boomer era would be the norm.
In my imagination, I saw a community room with a full wall of plasma screens displaying a Rolling Stones or U2 concert connected to the hallway beside the casino and spa. The theaters would have live performances several times a week, and the indoor/outdoor infinity pool would look out over the mountains. There would be numerous upscale shopping opportunities and lounges where like-minded groups could exchange their ideas about the latest movie and book releases over their favorite libations.
There would be one caveat, however: nowhere, and I mean nowhere, would politics be permitted to be discussed. We’d have plenty of workout areas, miles of hiking and walking trails, HEPA-filtered rooms, circadian rhythm coordinated lighting, multiple ethnic dining experiences, and Imaginarium centers where residents could travel to other dimensions via virtual reality. We would also have exponentiation centers where younger folks would come to learn positive life lessons by interacting with us.
Once I realized what I was thinking about, it struck me that the cruise ship companies had already created much of this. The only challenge was that these seabound petri dishes could not prevent Mother Nature from producing sea sickness. So, my dream is to take, for example, the recently retired Carnival Sensation cruise ship that holds over 2,000 passengers and move it to the Laurel Highlands. We’d call it The Fantasy Living Center. It would be a fun way to go.
Anyone interested?
Nick Jacobs is a Windber resident.