So, there we were. Proud owners of a 2 bedroom townhouse across the street from the ocean in sunny FL. Okay, so it wasn't on the ocean, but we could walk across the street. Great. We did it! Now, the hard part, finding time to come down and enjoy. Well, we only got a couple of weeks, and a few long weekends in four years. The rest of the time we spent wishing we were there. But during our short stays, we started to clue in on something odd. Everyone else at the complex seemed to be retired. Some were older, yes, but many were our age or younger. How could this be?
We went to the pool one day, shortly after our purchase. Of course, everyone wanted to know who the new people were. They were asking a lot of questions which I took to mean that they were genuinely interested in getting to know us. The more we talked, the more puzzled they seemed to be. This went on with each visit, as though the residents had decided that something here didn't compute. Finally, one day while floating around in the pool, a woman basically asked me if we had a pension. "No" I replied, "we don't have pensions." "YOU DON'T HAVE A PENSION?" she barked as she nearly fell off the styrofoam noodle she was bobbing up and down on. I began to realize why we had been of such interest to them. We weren't one of them. We worked in the private sector. I wasn't a teacher. My husband wasn't retired FNDY, NYPD or Sanitation.
After that, our neighbors just seemed to accept us but unfortunately, it made us privy to lots of conversations among this group. We heard things no private sector worker should every have to hear!
To be continued....
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