Living Differently 101

Is it RV life, or is it Florida?  Something about it makes me a little wistful.  Here in Titusville, at the full-time Willow Lakes community with two little lakes, a nine-hole course and a clubhouse, life seems to stand still.

In section A of Willow Lakes, only class A RV's are allowed.  That's the big rock star size busses.  You can own your own lot and in addition to a monster concrete pad and utility connections, you can build a casita.  I've never stepped inside one, but I envision an open living area, maybe a kitchenette, maybe a bath.  Enough to have a recliner, or two friends for cards.   You might build a high porch over your RV.  You might have a tiny garage for parking your golf cart, because if you don't own a golf cart, I don't think you would fit in.

In section B, where we parked, you can have any other class motor home, or just a casita. I could easily walk from my RV lot through a little park to the clubhouse, where at 6 pm, couples were enjoying noodle time in the pool.  There must have been a problem in the past with too many noodles in the pool.  A sign states clearly that you MUST remove your noodle or it will be thrown away.  Most of the couples were gathered at one end talking about big breakfast spots.  But one couple did not fit the norm.  At first I thought it was grandpa and 20 something granddaughter.  Then their behavior gave hints of another relationship.  She giggled at him, and he back at her.  I'll have to say Mr. December was in great shape, all wiry and weathered, that Florida sun skin, the kind that makes me reapply my sunscreen.  His hair, mostly still there, was a sunbleached blonde orange.  He could swim under water the length of the pool, and he told the girl he had saved a man from drowning once.  He demonstrated saving her by pulling her across the pool on her back.  She seemed impressed.  Then he got her to swim across the pool with him with one arm raised out of the water the whole way across.  It was tiring, she said, in a slightly foreign accent. 

In addition to a golf cart, you might have a dog at Willow Lakes, preferably a  Pomeranian that you can take for a walk or just carry.   I don't know where the residents put the dog's daily duty, because there are no garbage cans that I could find, not even near the clubhouse or in the park.  The only garbage I could find was at the 7th Hole, a nice little Par 3 with a can for beer bottles and other empties.  I am sure that it is a first class faux paux to put the dog's duty in there, and if caught, I would be on the agenda at the next homeowners meeting, minutes posted on the club house bulletin board like a Scarlet A.  Do the residents take the duty back into the RV?  Or do they take it as far as the golf cart, which they could then ride to the dumpster I never could find?

Everyone has a different idea of paradise, and a nice little community where you can put your name on a wooden sign outside your casita and enjoy palm trees, oleanders, mangroves and fresh oranges all winter is paradise for the folks in Willow Lakes.  And there's no snow to shovel.