Dispatches From the Villages

About two years ago, my parents decided to move to north-central Florida for half the year. Dad loved the beautiful weather, inexpensive housing and lovingly tended golf courses. Mom initially was doubtful; she prefers living near the ocean. But eventually she came around, and now she, my dad and Niki the dog have a lovely home here in The Villages, dubbed "America's Hometown" by the marketing wizards. Indeed, it looks a lot like "America's Hometown"-- if everyone in your hometown is white, over age 55 and uses a golf cart for transportation.

It took me a while to get used to the idea that my parents were old enough to live in an adult community. (Actually, I prefer the term "retirement community" since it sounds a bit less nefarious.) But I accepted it. And because my parents spend a good seven months here every year, I now do what once seemed impossible: travel to Florida on a regular basis.

As a result, I am re-examining my misconceptions about the state. I have learned, for example, that Florida is not devoid of all natural beauty. The Mexicans brought here to build the Villages used the expertise they learned in their birth country to construct a large lake in one of the "town centers," Fort Sumpter. On one of the shorelines, they even sunk a worn old boat to suggest a shipwreck. It's so authentic I almost thought I was back in Rockport!

As far as culture, the town centers in the Villages provide piped-in music all day long. At about 6:00 p.m. every night, a rock band plays. The last time I visited, the band--whose members were about the same age as the Rolling Stones--entertained the crowd with covers of Who and Queen songs. A couple in their 70s, dressed in red from head to toe, swayed to the music as happy couples strolled along the square.

For the less active, the Villages provide a bevy of shopping opportunities at chain stores like Starbucks, Barnes & Noble and the Gap. The Villages also offer a variety of social clubs, everything from water aerobics to bridge to international film night. There's something for everyone, even for the four other Democrats, besides my parents, who live in town.

One of the highlights of life in the Villages are the town buffalo, who roam freely behind fences near the Arnold Palmer-designed golf course. The Villages run their own elementary schools for the children of people who work here, and residents manage a radio station and newspaper. The newspaper is at least as good, and as objective, as any run by PNI.

My parents are happy here, and they have made many friends. My father's new real estate business is booming. So despite my sarcasm, I am happy they've found a little piece of the "American dream" here in Florida. It's just that I find this American dream a little bit scary.