Sometimes it feels as though we’ve entered into another country,
one with an age range spanning only thirty years or so. There are schools here
in our area, with actual children in them, and our complex is not a 55 and
older community, but to the most part wherever we go, everyone is around our
age, give or take ten years.
Also, you
have to work pretty hard to find an actual Floridian. The majority of people
are from somewhere else, even if they’ve live here for 20 years, and they’re
curious to learn where it is you’ve arrived from.
There’s kind
of an instant camaraderie. People who would never have struck up a conversation
in their own drugstore in Ohio or
New York, turn to you here and
comment on the price of Band-Aids or the effectiveness of a particular
sunscreen.
At the
grocery store this week I traveled past the display of pancake mix and stopped
next to a sixty-ish woman who was studying bottles of maple syrup on the shelf.
Together we pored over the various sizes, brands, and grades offered but
something was off with the pricing. One bottle that was twice the size of the
one next to it was marked even lower than its neighbor. Before I knew it, she’d
taken out her phone and was working out the price per ounces for us. I also
learned that she was from just over the Canadian border, where they bought
their syrup by the gallon tin. Several minutes and some conversation later, we
determined that the shelf had been mislabeled, and we chose our bottles and
moved on.
The fit, but
probably 70+ gentleman who bagged my groceries was determined to push my
carriage for me to my car. I tried to tell him that I was perfectly capable of
doing this myself, but as he said, “If I take this out to your car, I can get
the hell out of here for a few minutes.” How could I say no?
We loaded my
car, and then exchanged backgrounds – he was from Michigan
– and opinions on current events. By the time I’d pulled away, he’d relayed the
call letters for a radio station he felt might have the same viewpoint I did.
Whether it
was based on similar age brackets or political leanings, the conversation had a
definite 60s underground resistance vibe to it.
I remember doing a show in GA and the man with the midwestern accent said "Yea, we kept driving until we didn't see 'Bridge freezes before road' signs."
ReplyDeleteOn the other hand this little hotbed of liberals I live in feels pretty 60s underground resistance to me.
people are friendly in the south. I think it's the warm weather that loosens us up.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like a community. Which I love. Something which seems to be getting rarer. And rarer.
ReplyDeleteMy sister lives in Florida in a 55-and-older community. It doesn't take long before I feel like I belong there, too. But then I'm only there for a visit and she lives there year round, even in the summer, when she suddenly has the entire city to herself. :-)
ReplyDeleteNot sure if I could adapt to living with that many old people all around me. It is too busy for the things that I do. I like it here, even with the crazy weather.
ReplyDeleteI think seniors have been around so long that they have more experience and confidence to talk to others.
ReplyDeleteI think Red has a good point. I do wonder though, if people stayed where they began and didn't move to Florida, would they gravitate to each other and form friendly communities as they do in Florida?
ReplyDeleteProbably not. It's like traveling to another country and embracing a stranger like a brother because he's from the town next to yours
DeleteDid he recommend WMNF? Just curious. :)
ReplyDeleteWhen I lived in Florida people used to marvel at the fact that I was actually BORN there.
He suggested Syrius channel 127, billed as a "progressive" channel, and which has its roots from something called "radio left". (Had to look that one up)
DeleteSoon you will be hosting sit ins:)
ReplyDelete