They affectionately refer to it as “God’s Waiting Room.”
During a recent trip to visit my parents in sunny South Florida, my first stop was the clubhouse in their new gated community, designed for those aged 55 and older. My father proudly introduced me to his group of male friends, which I quickly nicknamed “The Golf Guys.”
One standout was Morty, a remarkably bronzed gentleman in his seventies, sporting a gold “chai” pendant that dangled above his round belly. I initially thought he was a caricature, perfectly fitting the stereotype of a Jewish retiree. It was no surprise to find a local deli named “Brooklyn Bagels,” a nod to the many north-easterners who flock to this area.
Greetings from the Lanai!
My parents now reside on a golf course—an enviable setting, to say the least. I found myself in their “Florida Room,” wearing my vintage INXS t-shirt, typing away on my laptop while geckos scurried around and golfers whizzed by. I couldn’t help but send messages to friends, playfully signing off with “Greetings from the Lanai!” (Floridians really do have a unique lexicon for their screened porches).
But then, during lunch at a local deli known for its lox and nova, reality hit me hard. More than half the diners were accompanied by aides, some using walkers, others gracefully handling whitefish sandwiches with frail hands. The atmosphere felt eerily reminiscent of a hospital waiting area, with the scent of illness mingling with that of pickles.
I momentarily envisioned my spirited mother—still vibrant and doing Zumba five times weekly—spending years in this place, eagerly awaiting the $5.99 lunch special before 1 p.m. Tears welled up behind my sunglasses as I grappled with the unsettling thought of her future.
A Surprising Turn of Events
To be honest, I never anticipated my parents would find themselves here. Back in the day, they were the cool, laid-back parents of my friends. My father once ran Long Island’s first head shop, while my childhood home boasted a six-foot bamboo bong. When I first got high at a party in 1987, I panicked and called my mother, expecting a lecture. Instead, she brewed tea and comforted me as my dad chuckled from the doorway.
They’ve always had exquisite taste in music, with my father introducing me to everything from blues legends to rock icons. Our bar mitzvah dance moves were the stuff of family legend, defying the stereotype of Jews and rhythm.
A New Chapter in Boca
But life took a turn when my father suffered a serious heart attack and underwent a quintuple bypass. During his recovery, he expressed a desire—indeed, a necessity—to retire, leading them to relocate from Long Island, notorious for its steep property taxes, to Boca, where it’s often said all the Jews go to die.
If all of Florida is deemed “God’s Waiting Room” due to its retiree population, the Boca/Delray/Boynton Beach area is particularly dense with Jewish residents. Ironically, it felt like a return home for my parents; their new neighborhood might as well be Long Island, just without the snow.
I’m relieved to see my father at ease, free from the daily grind. My mother enjoys her evenings with a glass of wine and walks through local nature trails, and they often hit the beach whenever they wish.
Yet, I can’t shake the discomfort that this is their final chapter. I realize that future visits will likely involve more significant health concerns, and instead of a quick train ride, I’ll have to book flights from New York in case of emergencies.
But amidst my worries, I see that they are content and unafraid. It’s me who needs to adjust to this new phase of their lives. After a week in Boca, I recognize that this period will be filled with warmth and sunshine. I must admit—it’s not so bad living life on the Lanai.
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Summary
Visiting my parents in Boca Raton highlighted the bittersweet realities of aging and retirement. While they find joy in their new lifestyle, I grapple with the implications of their transition to this final chapter. Their happiness reassures me, even as I navigate my own feelings of unease about the future.
Keyphrase: Visit to Retired Parents in Boca Raton
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