Living in the Cove and Loving It!

Every heard that motto?

Know where it is from?

That one liner has become a running joke in our family, but each time I visit Ellenton's over 55 senior living community that motto rings a little more true.

Our dad and step-mom have made the cove their home for the past several years. And after seeing the surplus of activities this community offers, I've come to think that I might welcome old age living more than dread it. I thought my social calendar was full, but it doesn't hold a flame to the fire they are stoking at 8000 Lakeshore Dr.

Always wanted to try your hand on stage; if you lived there you could join the Great Pretenders troupe. (Up until writing this post and verifying my facts, I thought it was called the Gray Pretenders...lol).

Flair for decorating? Glam up that golf-cart and participate in the annual holiday parade, or the blind folded cart race (this somehow doesn't seem super safe!)

Dance much? They have parties devoted to just that there too.

Bingo, shuffleboard, cards, water aerobics, trivia nights, field trips, the list goes on and on and on. You need to be retired just to find the time to fit it all in!

Everybody seems to know everybody in the cove! And we always get shout-outs as special guests of my dad who, much like his daughters, finds a way to be involved in everything and anything.

Last week during our yearly spring trip to town, my daughter and I got to attend Karaoke night (and yes, my dad had the MC announce a special song dedication to my Olivia).

Oh, what an experience it was....

We took our seats in a room of about 50 and settled in to listen. I mean, I had anticipated that I wasn't going to hear the next Ella Fitzgerald or Elvis, but I wasn't prepared at how truly terrible people would be. I feel so bad writing that, but the singing was undeniably awful.

And I loved every single solitary second of it.

These people weren't there to show off. They weren't there to prove anything. To hit the high note, or hold a perfect pitch. There was no competition. No prize to be won. No talent scout hidden in the audience (thank God). I did take videos, but I don't want to embarrass people by posting, although these seniors don't seem to give an F about what others may or may not think about them - one of the perks of old age I suppose!

Those who sang seemed to really be there solely, and truly, just for the fun of it. It's hard to describe, but they seemed in a state of joy, and flow, and deep contentment. They appeared introspective while entertaining and thus extraverting (yes, I know I just made up that word) simultaneously. And, when they finished their numbers, the cheers and smiles and applause from those gathered struck a chord (pun intended) in me.

I love music. I exercise with it on. Cook with it on. Sleep with it on.

Music is powerful, in part, because all of the emotion it reverberates within us. So while the sound coming out of the participants' mouths may not have been particularly beautiful, the feelings of camaraderie, gratitude, nostalgia, and free-floating merriment that was elicited by their singing was the most beautiful thing in the world.

I was totally immersed and present in the moments that made up that evening, but I was also wondering and wandering in my mind.

Why did she choose that song?

Is that man with the parrot on his shoulder trying to pick up the widow with the wine? (I actually have no idea if the woman is a widow btw).

What is that other woman thinking as she dances up and down the center aisle by herself? Does she have dementia? Or is she remembering with perfect clarity a pastime she refuses to lose with someone she will always love?

I was humbled by the sheer number of stories that most certainly filled that room. Stories of lust and loss. War and victory. Celebrations and scars (both physical and mental).

As the evening drew to a close, I grabbed my journal to jot down some notes about what it was that I was witnessing - so that, like the lady who dances alone, I too will not forget.

A man leans over and asks me,

"What are you writing? Is that your diary?"

I respond,

"Kinda. It's a journal. I blog sometimes. I'm writing about how lovely this all is."

He laughs.

"That's one word for it all right."

The MC for the night brings the microphone to his mouth.

I hear the opening notes, and then the words...

"I see trees of green,

red roses too.

I see them bloom

for me and you..."