If anyone had asked me if I was ready to go to the old folks home, I’d have shouted: No, never, not on your life. Still, it’s funny how, when the timing seems just right, things can make an odd kind of sense.
It also seems odd to me that after four-plus decades of worrying about my children, and their children, the worm has turned. Just when I thought they were all pretty well settled in their lives, marriages, etc., leaving me free to roam the world, taking photos and writing stories, they’ve started worrying about me.
When I found that little condo in Big Sky three years ago it seemed like just the right place to retire and try to write something of lasting significance. Being close enough to Yellowstone National Park to allow for frequent photo trips, I thought I might produce some nature shots of some significance also. Some of my better efforts now adorn the condo walls and a few are hanging in local galleries. I even sold a couple of them.
After finally getting just the right paint (a Martha Stewart color remixed in a no-VOC latex) for the living room walls and paying professionals to spray the vaulted ceilings, the condo was starting to feel like home. Not just a hide-away with forest access and groomed ski trails just outside the door, but really homey.
But the notion that I would spend the rest of my days in that comfy cabin was perhaps a bit idealistic. Or maybe just nuts.
My kids started worrying about me making three or four drives to and from California (at about a day and a half each). In January, it can be dicey. Twice I drove through a blizzard in the Targhee forest, a treacherous route designed for Jeeps and all-terrain vehicles but actually used by 18-wheelers and old folks, like me, in front-wheel drive sedans. After last January’s excursion, my kids and my sister ganged up on me and insisted I buy a Subaru Outback wagon. I complied and I couldn’t be happier with the new wheels.
Then the Bozeman side of the family started worrying that if we had another tough winter, I’d be stranded in Big Sky, shoveling snow and carrying wood for the fire and skidding on the icy walkway to the coin-op laundry room (actually just 40 steps across the driveway). And then there was the issue of steep stairs to the bedroom, no longer a worry now that my joints have healed, but a source of aches for a while.
My response was that all that (and the indoor pool) just kept me young and fit. But they prevailed.
To be fair, I so understand my daughter Betty’s concern. If anything happened to me, she would be stuck taking care of me or arranging for my care. And that would be almost impossible in remote Big Sky, but surprisingly easy in Bozeman. I had been in that position years ago when my father suddenly needed care and couldn’t live on his own. He was entitled to go to the Motion Picture & Television home in Calabasas, but resisted, and when the time came, there was no cottage available. He had to go to a nursing facility and wait for a vacancy. That was horrible.
So we searched the newspaper for small houses or one-level condos. After seeing one that might have been suitable (attached garage, no steps, etc.), Betty made an appointment for me to meet her financial advisor. After evaluating my meager assets, he said: No way. Too expensive. Try again.
Then he asked: Have you considered Aspen Pointe? I must have winced. He said: It’s not what you think. Yes, it is for people older than 60 (at least he didn’t say seniors), but there is a vibrant community of people there who still lead interesting lives. They just don’t have to sweat the small stuff (like icy steps and snow shoveling).
Betty glanced at me to see my reaction. Did they plan this? Nah.
I had actually driven around the beautifully landscaped campus, on a hilltop that affords a great view of the Bridger Mountains, and thought maybe someday it would be a good place to really retire. But I thought that would be many years off. Guess not.
I agreed to meet the marketing director and find out how it works. Betty is afraid I’m offended by the suggestion that I’m, well, past it. The truth is, you couldn’t offend me with an ax. I totally get it.
Linda gives us the tour. If I thought the outside was nice, the inside is gorgeous. New Montana architecture downstairs: vaulted wooden ceiling with a great stone fireplace facing the lobby, dining room and library. She shows us the only two apartments available at this time (I guess you have to wait for someone to be carried out). One has a large balcony with two bedrooms and two baths. Way too big, I say. Way too expensive, says the financial guy.
There is a one-bedroom, smaller balcony but with a great view, located on the same level as the entrance, dining room, library and post office boxes. And it’s even a bit larger than the Big Sky condo. This is do-able, I say.
So I’m trying it out. I am, in fact, writing this with my laptop on a makeshift desk, gazing out over the lawns and trees to the mountains beyond. Magnifique!
Next week: the details. Hope there’s no devil in them.