The husband and I have just returned from Altamont (with apologies to Thomas Wolfe) where we visited five continuing care retirement communities (CCRC). These popular retirement options (increasingly known as “life care communities” or “senior living solutions” [who thought up such an awful term?!?!?] are designed to make your last years on earth as pleasant and carefree as possible. Towards that end, they promise independent living in a comfortable apartment (or free-standing “cottage” or “villa” or “townhome”), meal service (usually one meal a day), housekeeping, a fitness center (machines and pools), day trips, art workshops, chapel, library (either check-out or book swap), book clubs, bridge, mah-jongg, musical events, etc. etc. etc. (God forbid you should just want to relax and read your book.) Importantly, the best ones offer “assisted living” should daily activities (like bathing and dressing) get to be overwhelming, memory care should dementia raise its ugly head, and skilled nursing should such be required. For all this fun one usually pays an entrance fee (higher the bigger the dwelling) and a monthly fee. The monthly fee may remain constant as one moves from, say, independent living to memory care, or it may start off small-ish (never really small) and get steeper as one moves to more hands-on levels of care.

Now. There are several problems with all CCRC’s. While they offer some welcome activities to those of us who no longer get up in the morning to go to work, they also tend to remind us that we no longer get up in the morning to go to work, and we need other things to keep us engaged with the living. Moreover, it requires us to come to terms with the fact that bad things happen when one gets older. But the main problem with all of these CCRCs is that everyone, I mean everyone, is OLD. Some of us old people don’t like the idea of always being around old people. I know, I know, but there it is.

Nevertheless, off we went to investigate.

The first community we visited was Meade Valley Farms (not its real name), “nestled in a picturesque setting” about 20 minutes outside Altamont. It comprised about 30 free-standing homes clustered on top of a rise that overlooked pastureland, a corn field, and a community garden. Although maintenance of property was part of the package, one could also add landscaping to the patio portion of one’s own home. Pleasant enough. The clubhouse (meeting room, fitness center, therapy pool) were down the rise and across the road. In other words, you could get all the exercise you needed just by hiking to the fitness center and back. If one of you had to go into assisted living, that facility (which we were not invited to tour) was further even than the clubhouse. One of the homeowners — a retired high school principal and his wife — were eager to open their home for a tour. The husband (we’ll call him Tom) greeted us outside his neatly-organized two-car garage in crisp jeans and a well-worn T-shirt. The house was modestly appointed but immaculate. Scented candles burned; the kitchen was uncluttered and spotless; a pantry showed canned goods stacked alphabetically; homemade quilts graced the beds; the front patio was awash in flowers. Tom told us that he rose daily at 3 AM to take a brisk walk around the grounds. He did indeed look amazingly fit for a man in his 70’s. His wife, clearly a consummate homemaker, was equally fit. They had been residents for some ten years and seemed to play the roles of mayor and first lady. Now let’s face it: My house is not immaculate (I hate scented candles); I do not alphabetize my canned goods; we are not what you’d call in tip-top shape; I don’t garden; I want a lap not a therapy pool; I want a grocery store that’s not 20 minutes away. But still, it was pretty and pleasant.

On to Holly Grove. Despite its perky name, Holly Grove is stately and large and expensive. Situated off a main Altamont shopping thoroughfare, it has almost 400 residences including apartments, villas and cottages. Although the villas and cottages were quite pretty from the outside, their fit residents tend to live forever, so you can’t expect one of these homes to become available for at least ten years. Apartment residents are also fit, but they die more readily (and there are more of them), so the apartment waitlist is only five years. To get on the waitlist requires a $1000 fee (not unusual) as well as certification of health and financial solvency (less usual). But Holly Grove has everything: Three dining rooms, art studio, fitness center (lap pool!), woodworking shop, library, mah-jongg, book clubs, auditorium, graciously appointed public spaces, lovely grounds, hiking trails, etc. etc. etc. And indeed, we saw lots of folks coming and going to various activities. Residents’ artwork (some of it surprisingly good) lined the hallways. The three-bedroom apartment we were shown (the owner was traveling in Europe) was elegantly appointed with Persian carpets, antiques, a classic chandelier. All of a sudden, we felt slightly underdressed. (Would I have to wear make-up in the fitness center? What if my shirt has a spot on it? Would people notice?) Everything was all under one roof. A good thing, right? But just to make decision-making as hard as possible, the husband pointed out that if you’re never going to leave the building anyway, why does it matter whether you’re in Altamont or Peekskill? Why are we thinking of moving 1000 miles away from our beloved New York?

Let’s move on to…

Oakwoods. Right up front it didn’t help that they forgot we were coming. It didn’t seem to be an overwhelming obstacle, though, and we were quickly introduced to a marketing person, who was extremely attractive, tanned and healthy, and attentive and knowledgeable about the area and the place. Her very presence, however, reminded us that we were no longer tall and tan and young and lovely. So, even though they had forgotten about us, they were welcoming. The picture in their brochure shows ten people outdoors around a fire pit. Gosh, they’re having such a good time! Everyone has a wine glass; one fellow holds a saxophone. There are six women and four men, but we never saw a male resident. Widows abound…everywhere…not just at this place. Oakwoods is out by Meade Valley Farms…or further out. The drive from Altamont is expressway followed by country roads. The nearest grocery store??? Hospital??? Oakwoods has lots of stuff, but we didn’t see anyone using it. We were, however, graciously invited to stay for lunch. I asked whom we should pay, and our Beatrice said that, of course, it was on them. White tablecloths and waiter service for lunch was nice, but we were alone in the dining room except for one other couple. Assisted living was again in a separate building, a short drive away.

The next place, Haverford Hills, was as big as Holly Grove and in the same suburban-type area of Altamont. They had a marketing approach different from all the others. Instead of a one-on-one appointment, they invited several potential residents (in our case about 25 souls) to a Power Point presentation and group tour. Very corporate. Coffee and not-very-good pastries were available during the presentation. Now. I’m sure it will come as a surprise to you, but not all old people are attentive, knowledgeable, cultured, or good conversationalists. Some talk too much — mostly about themselves; some are just rude; some are all the way to boorish. And when you go into a CCRC, you must expect to meet all kinds of people…as we did with this particular group. However, it struck me as not the wisest marketing strategy to present the opportunity of meeting such unpleasant company as you were considering where you wanted to live for the rest of your life! After a car-sick-inducing bus tour of the grounds (villas, cottages — 10-year waitlist), we had a walking tour of the indoor facilities (nice enough), but no tour of apartments (Covid had scared off residents from inviting strangers into their homes). Floor plans and video tours were made available online. We were invited to stay for lunch…at our own expense which, in our case, was $25. How welcoming is that? Day trips to here and there were available — for a fee. Everything here seemed to be “for a fee.”

Finally, we came to Esterbrook Estates. An hour’s drive from Altamont, this all-inclusive 400-resident place was off the beaten path, but within 10 minutes of a shopping mall with pharmacy and grocery store. All of the buildings were connected. You never had to go outside– ever (even though that particular day the weather showed off admirably). We were invited to have lunch on the house before we met with a marketing agent. The cafeteria-style menu said that lunch would have been $4.75 apiece. When we went into the marketing office, there was a small sign that welcomed us by name. The public spaces were comfortable, but not splashy. The fitness center was fully stocked with brand new machines, but the pool was…not a lap pool. There was the usual art room, meeting rooms, library. Assisted care was in the same building as the independent living apartments. The 3-bedroom apartment we were shown felt large, was full of light, and was near a storeroom (mostly filled with residents’ Christmas decorations in locked cages). A small, trout-stocked lake with a biking/hiking trail around it was nearby. The marketing agent (a man this time) was about 50, tall and personable like a Rotarian might be. He paid close attention to us and our questions. His pitch was complete and enthusiastic, and it included an easily understood account of what at first appeared to be complicated payment options. Deal-breaker (besides the pool): dinner was available in the cafeteria from 5-6:30. Really?!?!? 5 o’clock??!?!? Only old people eat at 5 o’clock!

So. Which one would you choose?