K’vitsh

(All pull quotes are from I try to live like a senior citizen by Emily Yoffe, part of her Human Guinea Pig series.)

I’ve always thought old age homes looked kinda fun.

Not the ones where the residents look like they’re two days away from death, but the more vital ones, with bingo and road trips and frisky singles.

About 150 people have shown up for bingo, and everyone is engaged in lively chatter. There is none of the silent, disinfectant gloom of the nursing home. Addie introduces me to some of her friends. I talk to Anita Robinson and Bill Brasile, who are both in their 80s. For the last two years, Anita, a widow, and Bill, a widower, have been dance and life partners. Like many couples who meet at Leisure World, they have no desire to marry. “His apartment is not big enough for me, and mine’s not big enough for him,” Anita says. (Addie explains that when people each have property, grown children, and grandchildren, marriage can just result in an estate-planning mess.)

I always assumed Mel and I would one day live in one together. I told her my plan one day, and she was decidedly less enthused. I guess when I think about it, it isn’t a dream ending. But I figured we’d have years of fun and husbands and whatever, then ride out our old age together playing shuffleboard.

She says she’s got a pair of redheads I should meet, the twins, Doris and Dorothy Bell, 82. The Bells spent their careers working together as secretaries at the phone company and now share an apartment at Leisure World. “We’re two old maids,” Dorothy says. They’ve been here for three years, and their favorite event is the sing-along at the bar on Friday nights. Dorothy says the pianist plays “Me and My Shadow” and she and Doris act it out.

“You two keep the place open until 9!” says a friend sitting nearby.

And stories like this one don’t really disuade me. You don’t have to cook or clean, there’s always something to do…but perhaps I’m being naive. Maybe it’s really lonely and sad.

At first I thought playing penny slots was faintly ridiculous—who cares about winning or losing when you’re talking about pennies? But now I understand. When you’re deep into the active-adult part of your life, after your children are raised, your career is over, and your spouse is buried, the purpose of the slot machine is not to take your money, but your time.

And, being me, I will likely hate a large portion of the other residents.

I’ve always wondered what my generation will be like as “the elderly”. Do people all kinda morph into the same kind of old person? Or will be tattooed and swearing and sexing up the joint?