This is first of several essays I intend to post. I am working on a book of short essays and I would like to see the reaction to some of my pieces. Also, since I am back from my vacation in Big Bend, my life is rather mudane, thus the activities are not worth posting.

In the January 14th New York Times there was an article titled “Like a College Visit, Minus Kegs.” The upbeat piece was about adult communities, those where you have to be a minimum age (often 55) to be accepted in. I am 58, though with the recession and a substantial mortgage, I am not about to retire soon. Nonetheless, I read the article with interest as a vivid contrast to my present life in an isolated hollow. The story talked about how people now often visit these communities for a few days to get a legitimate sense of the residents and the facilities. Fitness clubs, golf courses, pools and hot tubs, restaurants, social events, and then off to your spiffy condo or modern cottage. I thought of how I had to tramp almost a mile to get home through the 20 inch snow we had recently, and how I spent endless hours on my John Deere tractor scraping my road to get all the snow and ice off. My nearest neighbor is a mile away and the article’s mention of social gatherings with like-minded people sounded quite appealing. The idea of not having to take care of the batteries for my solar power system and all the little tasks that a log house demands was even more enticing.
Even with the amenities touted in the article--phrases like “casual and sporty” and “carnival atmosphere of cruise ships” enliven the text--I still wonder at what I would give up to move into one of these places. My life is a struggle in many ways but I have always been a worker, from my days in marine construction and as a scuba diver to my present position as an English Professor at Radford University. Most mornings I get up and write, and then I start my tasks. If it isn’t too cold I go out and if I need to build a rack for my kayak or a cover for my septic pump, then that is where my energy goes.
Once school starts, I spend a lot more time preparing for classes and grading papers, but I usually allocate some time fixing or building things. With my arthritic knee, I have to move slower, but I still like the sense of accomplishment that comes out of honest physical labor.
The psychological sense of independence is also very comforting. At a 55 plus community, I’m sure there are many concerns but all occur within a comfortable and safe ambiance where help is a few steps or a phone call away. When I have to use my chainsaw to clear my road, I have no backup. My cell phone doesn’t work there and so I have to be very, very careful since one mistake could be very dangerous and perhaps even fatal. No one would come search for me for perhaps days, and that might well be much too late. The thought is a bit scary but it also means that I have a heightened sense of responsibility, and I have gained a steady confidence that I can handle almost any situation that could occur.
I enjoyed the New York Times piece quite a bit, but for now I don’t think I’ll be making any visits to adult communities soon. At present the hollow is my home and the challenges and rewards of living there are the right thing for me.