I had a pleasant talk with my next-door neighbor Betsy, a fit, intelligent woman who does photography. (I will see some of her work tomorrow at the Art Fair.) One thing she said was a bit sobering.
“You will almost certainly be asked to get involved in Plaza management,” she said. Terwilliger Plaza is a cooperative owned and run by the residents. “Those of us who are still relatively healthy have to carry most of the load – our ears still work, our legs still work, our minds still work – at least relatively well.” I found out today* that the average age at which people move to Terwilliger Plaza is 82. I’m twelve years earlier than that. I didn’t come here intending to take care of a couple hundred frail old people, but I can see what she means. If we are indeed all in this together – and thus protected from the predations of megacorporate profiteers – then those who can pull their own weight plus a little, need to do so.
*Yesterday at the monthly Residents Council meeting, I met Harley Sachs, an author of mysteries, some of which he set at Terwilliger Plaza. I’m reading the first one, The Mystery Club Solves a Murder, in which the author gives the average-age-at-entry-is-82 factoid. He does a wonderful job of weaving his plot around the frailties and strengths of his six women protagonists. Great literature, it ain’t, but somehow reading descriptions of (fictional) events taking place here makes me feel more at home than just being here does.