In February 1967, my sales representative and I flew to Billings, Montana over the Grand Tetons Range of the Rockies. I saw from the window snow cover below outlining bizarre shadows formed by the high mountains. Small villages, motorways and animal tracks proved there was life below.

We finished our business the next day in Riverton, WY and learned that the airlines cancelled all flights and did not know when they would resume. This caused a serious problem for us, because we had a meeting two days later in L.A.

Reluctantly, we rented an automobile to drive over the southwestern Rocky Mountain Pass to Salt Lake City, Utah to catch a flight to Los Angeles. Radio bulletins about weather conditions sounded optimistic, but snow often closed the pass at the last moment, so it was necessary to drive the 150 miles to the entrance of the highway to confirm that it was open.

The mountains, some four to seven thousand feet high, silenced our radio, however a sign flashed that the road was open and cautioned about danger from snow and poor visibility. We bought food and gas and warily entered the route across the Rockies. Warning signs every few miles and the sun setting behind the mountains heightened our apprehension.

The curves on the highway as it climbed toward the summit caused a bewildering mix of light and darkness. Sometimes the sun broke through the mountain opening then quickly hid from view. The wind and snow slowed us to 10 or 15 miles an hour. The sun blocked by the mountains meant only our headlights illuminated the road. We followed it cautiously because snow had narrowed the driving lane and wind gusts rattled the car. From the passenger side, I saw the mountains fall off abruptly into deep abysses adding to my fear. There was no radio reception just static, so we talked quietly to each other watching the snowfall worsen.

Then a huge form appeared on the highway at the end of a long curve. There the biggest snowplow we ever saw, higher than a one-story building, with enourmous headlights, lit up the road, railings and parts of the mountains. Alone on the highway, we got close behind it for light and safety until it led us up throug the Pass.

Happily, on the western side the sun was shining. The view of Salt Lake City, nestled far down in a lush valley, made it easy to understand why the founders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints chose this location for their home.

Our perilous journey across the Rockies ended safely, and we got to the meeing on time.

Labels: active retirement communities, Chicago independent living, chicago retirement community, chicago senior living, Jack and Rita, senior retirement communities, upscale retirement community

Orders arrived near mid-night on Monday, September 11, 1944 while the battle raged in Europe. Carrying full field packs, we boarded a train at Fort Dix, NJ under cover of darkness. The train moved to an unkown destination to the north, which we recognized later, the quays on New York City's lower west side at three o'clock in the morning. We left the rail cards to borrd quietly a small British troop ship, the "H.M.S. Squalus." Again, under cover of darkness a tugboat towed us from the Hudson River estuary to the open sea. I slept soundly in my hammock, hanging in the hold, next to the stairway following Dad's earlier advice to be near a quick escape route and fresh air from the ocean.

The following morning, I went to the bridge and learned that we were part of a convoy of ships:  troop, merchant marine, and fighting vessels. Our planes filled the sky, searching for enemy submarines. Convoys move with the slowest vessel meaning a long crossing. September weather, hurricane time, in the North Atlantic, got worse as we sailed east. I enjoyed deep green waves break over our ship. The crests rose thirty feet or more enraged by the strong winds. I judged the wave height when the ship slipped into the bottom of a swell where I could compare the tops of waves to the ship's bridge. Better than a rollercoaster ride.

Nearly everyone became seasick from the boat rolling and the putrid odor. I didn't get sick maybe because of the fresh sea air falling down the open hatchway to my hammock. The days dragged, card playing or watching the flying fish and dolphins breaking through the ocean surface became our entertainment. Seabirds, a thousand miles from land, floating rhythmically on rolling waves amazed us. The fluorescent light generated at night by the ship's friction as it cut through the water worried us. The weak, flickering light around the hull at sea level was clearly visible from deck and, maybe, to the enemy.

The British Ship was an unexpected ordeal. The greatest torment was the food the Limeys served. The meals, puddings and slop, we called it, were nearly inedible. The worst was the lumpy outmeal, thick, sticky and tasteless. I lived the whole trip on marshmallow and Oreo cookies.

Once on board, I searched for toilets. I found a row of eight on a high structure, suspended above a foot wide slanted trough that carried flowing seawater from right to left. The toilets were seats on openings to the seawater in the sluice below, which carried waste to the ocean. First time, I chose the seat on the left side, a big mistake, because all the junk floated below me. Odors were bad, especially of vomit passing underneath from the seasick. I moved to the first position on the right side after that, so my waste sailed under the others.

One evening, I opened the hatch door to go on the deck to admire the fighting waves and the quiet stars moving across the sky. Suddenly, a British sailor yelled to me, "Get your arse off the deck and back inside." I obeyed immediately. The next morning, I saw that two large contraptions (some said fog machines) anchored to the second-deck stern were missing--washed out to sea by monstrous waves. I owe that British sailor for sure.

Far out to sea, air protection ended, but numerous warships--cruisers, torpedo boats and destroyers--circled the convoy guarding against the enemy. Near the end of the voyage, the Captain announced that our destination was the port of Cherbourg in Normandy, France.

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We entered Fey's jewelry store in downtown Naperville one Saturday during our anniversary month, May 1982, to search for a ring guard for Rita. Fey's store consisted of one long rectangular room with a single door entrance. Windows on both sides of the entry door showed many offerings of jewelry with price tags conveniently inverted. Inside, showcases lined the sidewalls offering shiny and expensive jewelry, nearly all for women. The far end of the store ended with another jewelry case and a small cash register. Several other women shopped whispering softly because sound reverberated off the hard walls.

Rita examined ring guards and variations checking every detail for flaws, blemishes or other irregularities. Although we whispered, my male voice was easy to hear. The search narrowed to two ring guards adorned with small diamonds. Rita flashed her first choice before me. I saw a band densely covered with countless diamonds.

"Dear," I murmured, "Don't you think all those diamonds are a bit much?" The other clients, astonished, audibly supported Rita's answer.

"Jack, you can never have too many diamonds!"

Murmurs were now chuckles. I whispered to the clerk that I wanted to buy Rita the ring guard and offered my new Master Card for a first time purchase on it. Some women smiled approvingly. The clerk took the card, retired to the back room, then returned and said calmly, "Your card has been rejected."

Everyone heard the owner. Women stared inquisitively, my face reddened. I coundn't understand why it was rejected. A new card unused--declined in front of everybody. I grew tired of the chorus of sighs and offered my trusty American Express Card. Purchase completed. Then we walked slowly out of the store passing the other clients, Rita grinned happily, while I nodded timidly to our newfound friends as we exited.

An episode from the memoirs of John Patrick Roche (Jack)

Labels: active retirement communities, Chicago independent living, chicago senior living, Jack and Rita, upscale retirement living

One Christmas Rita and I searched the area to locate the perfect tree. A nearby lot provided a good choice. Selecting the perfect tree was a ritual for us each year. Hundreds of trees—spruces, scotch pines and more—separated by size and price, made it easy. The six-foot Scotch pine that we bought had a nice shape for our family room.

Thirty minutes later, it sat in our tree-stand where we judged again its size and beauty. I turned it one-way, then Rita turned it another, visualizing together its best side and how it would look decorated.

“Let’s have a glass of red wine and hors-d’oeuvres to think it over,” she said—a sign she did not like it.

“It looks okay to me.”

“It is a lovely tree, but it is too big for our space. It covers part of our wing chairs,” she said.

“Well, I’ll just take it back.”

“You can’t do that! It’s a Christmas tree,” she exclaimed.

“You return things all the time. Why not return a $45 tree?”

“They don’t take back Christmas trees!”

“Well, I’ll give it a try. All they can say is no.”

I drove the few miles to the lot with the tree hanging out of the trunk and then carried it to the owner.

“My wife doesn’t like this tree and I’d hate to see a tree ruin her Christmas.”

“Heck” he said. “We can’t spoil a lady’s Christmas. Just go over and select the same size tree. Drop that one on the reject pile.”

It wasn’t easy to pick a perfect tree because I knew the scrutiny it would receive at home.

“Honey, here’s your new tree,” I said. “How do you like it?”

“I can’t believe you had the nerve to return a Christmas tree,” she said emphatically.

“The owner and I nearly had a fistfight about returning it, but I won the argument. He didn’t want you to have a horrible Christmas.”

“You didn’t! You couldn’t! How embarrassing. I hope the neighbors didn’t see you.”

“I’m only kidding honey. The guy was great.”

“Take any one you want for the little lady,” he said.

“Now, after all that, you know it had to be the perfect Christmas tree.”

Labels: active retirement communities, Chicago independent living, chicago retirement community, Jack and Rita, the garlands, upscale senior living

June 6, 2011, is the 67th anniversary of D-Day. Here is a memoir about September of that year.

German Gun Emplacement
In full uniform, I walked alone, in the hills bordering Cherbourg, France on the harbor side, and found wild vines growing along the roadside. To my delight they were red grape vines. I picked two bunches and ate them slowly. Delicious! Engrossed with the grapes, I walked aimlessly towards the sea again oblivious to the dangers of leftover anti-personnel mines. My contentment was high when I saw a huge fort-like structure which I approached carefully.

It was a re-enforced concrete German defense carved into the side of a high coastal hillside. Two menacing gun barrels pointed out toward the Atlantic. The closer I approached the more debris and destruction I saw. I entered the rear of this enormous structure from the land side. There on the ground were long foot-wide tracks used to transport heavy shells on dollies to the guns now useless. Spent shell casings lay about the area showing the size of the projectiles used. Our captain said that the two coastal guns were six or eight inches in diameter with a range in excess of 6 miles. Several weeks ago, they fired at our ships in the English Channel beyond the harbor entrance.

The small and confining firing room interior for the guns was claustrophobic. How could men live and work in such a closed place? Weapons were first priority--not soldiers. The view from the inside towards the channel and sea was clear and panoramic, even though the sight line was through narrow horizontal slits in the thick concrete. The openings were minimized to prevent incoming shells and small arms fire from entering.

I left sadly thinking that the sound of the wind from the sea, eerily pushing through the slits, seemed to be moaning the recent death and destruction on this devastated hillside.

John Patrick Roche (Jack)
The Garlands of Barrington
May 9, 2011

Labels: chicago senior living, Jack and Rita, senior retirement communities, the garlands upscale retirement community, upscale retirement community, upscale retirement home

Dear friends: My memoirs are nearly finished. I'd like to share with you this childhood memory from the early thirties.

One afternoon in South Boston, MA, during 1933, when eight years old, I rushed home in panic, screaming and trembling. I couldn't speak to answer my mother's questions and sobbed and sobbed from terrible fright. Slowly, I told mom how I went to the abandoned house across the street, on the East Ninth Street side, and climbed the porch stairs to peek inside through a broken glass panel.

Between sobs, I described the interior hall covered with eerie looking cobwebs, the stairway leading upstairs, the closed door to the right and the corridor that ran on the left into the darkness. The long electric cord hanging from the ceiling ended at an empty socket with no shade. Just inside the open window, there was a weight of lead about eight inches long, attached to a rope. Other houses had them, so I knew they helped close the door after opening. The weight swung from its pulley. Easy to reach, I pushed it out from the wall letting it fall back with a noisy crash. While watching the interior, I pushed the weight repeatedly increasing the deafening sound. Suddenly, four unsteady, wrinkled fingers appeared at the bottom of the closed door slowly pushing it open. A bearded man lying on the floor stared at me with scary eyes.

Shivering, I again screamed loudly "I saw a ghost." I couldn't be calmed. Mom and dad hugged me saying "Jacky that was a homeless man sleeping in the deserted house, there are no ghosts."

My panic and fright lessened, but I avoided that side of the street and the abandoned house for weeks just in case mom and dad were wrong.

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"Hal and Betty, I hope you enjoyed the tour of The Garlands by our sales department," I said.

"We sure did," Betty responded.

"You were right when you told us The Garlands is an upscale retirement community," Hal added quickly.

"You've seen our whole community. Did anything conern you on your tour?" I prodded.

"Well, now that you ask," they said in unison, "where are all the people? There were only a half dozen or so in the corridors."

"You're right," I said. "There are over 200 living here in our active retirement community, and they're always on the go: some to second homes, others travelling to exotic places or volunteering at Hospice of North Eastern Illinois, Good Shepherd Hospital and churches."

"I did see some women working on jig-saw puzzles in your resource center," said Betty.

"Yes. However, today you missed the group of women who play scrabble at the Cafe Corner," I added.

"I'd still like to see more people around," Hal insisted.

"Many gather at the Cafe Corner for the monthly birthday party and the weekly 'Just Talk Group' or special functions like our Craft artists. There are plenty of members here, but they don't spend much time in the hallways--they're on the go," I replied.

"You know," Hal agreed, "I think that's a good point. I read your center page in the Gazette listing activities for the month. There are dozens: bridge, poker, billiards, women's and men's fitness, Bible study, Wii bowling, two book clubs, Lyric lectures, movies, shopping trips and more."

"There," I smiled. "You've answered your own question. Now you know 'where all the people are.' Garlands members are involved and too busy to sit around."

Labels: active retirement communities, chicago retirement community, Jack and Rita, the garlands upscale retirement community

Late September, 1944, near Cherbourg, France, I left our field hospital unit, where I worked in surgery, to walk the fields surrounded by hedgerows--the same hedgerows so dangerous to our troops fighting the retreating Germans. I walked, with no real goal, except to find wild grapes or berries, forgetting about our standing orders to beware of the anti-personnel mines they left behind.

Happy noise, singing and laughing, attracted me to a sprawling farm house in the distance. I had to investigate. The fun sounds led me to a wide barn opening which, to a city boy from Boston, was a fascinating sight. Inside rested several stone vats, and standing in two of the vats were two women each--all appeared to be in their forties.

Loudly enjoying themselves, they jumped up and down on newly picked red grapes: their feet and legs bare, and their skirts tied high on their thighs. The red wine juice colored their legs to well above the knees. Strong, broad shouldered men marched in from time to time with large containers of freshly picked grapes on their backs. They methodically emptied them into the vats and returned to the vineyard for more, while the women sang and stomped happily.

The juice from the grapes flowed through ducts to collectors leading to the wine making apparatus. The men, dressed comfortably in work clothes, noticed me standing there in uniform and briefly acknowledged my presence, but continued their duties. After a while, they stopped carrying grapes to the vats. The women finished the stomping, hosed the red juice from their still colored legs and left for other chores.

One man waved me to join him at a table, offering a chair. Soon two other men brought non-stemmed glasses and a flask of red wine. No English was spoken, only friendly attempts to communicate. The three Frenchmen made clear their appreciation of me and les Etats-Unis d'Amerique. We drank to their freedom and our coming victory over the Germans. Their tasty red wine helped our understanding and friendship. And I forgot the war for a while.

Labels: active retirement communities, active senior living, Jack and Rita, the garlands upscale retirement community, Veterns, World War II

"Alice and Kent just called from Wellesley, Massachusetts inviting us to spend three nights with them at their summer cottage on Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire in July. I accepted for us," Rita said.

"Great! That makes over thirty years that they have invited us. We missed only once; the year I had a collapsed lumbar vertebra," I replied.

"Better make plane reservations soon. July vacation air traffic could be heavy," she added.

"Let's extend our trip to visit my relatives in Middleton, Rhode Island, Weymouth, Massachusettes and Chatham on Cape Cod. You know at my age I want to take every chance to visit my siblings and sister-in-law. One never knows," I mused.

"I've always wanted to visit Bar Harbor, Maine, let's add it to our trip. I'll go online to check the deals. I favor the Bar Harbor Inn because it has a wonderful reputation and great location on the water. I'll do it tonight," Rita promised.

She reserved the Inn for three nights in July, so the next day I used American Express points to purchase coach tickets from Chicago's O'Hare to Providence, Rhode Island. American Express advised us to contact rental care companies directly at Providence. I selected Hertz because they advertised having a location in the airport, not off-site.

We asked for a standard four-door car for 13 days. Hertz quoted $1,076.90. A few days later American Express sent me an email discount coupon reducing our cost to $804.21. The price sounded good to me.

"Jack did you shop around with other car rental companies?" Rita asked.

"No," I said. "They're all the same and Hertz is located at the airport, not off-site."

We arrived at the Providence airport an hour late and went directly to the Hertz counter where we found a long line leading to two clerks. On clerk suddenly left the counter adding to the wait time. Late for lunch with my brother, Rita urged me to try Avis because their rental counter moved faster.

I said the lady at Avis, "I want to rent a four-door car for 13 days, but the price has to be as good as Hertz. " She didn't answer, but took my credit card and driver's license.

Soon Rita and I got a new Chevrolet Impala, right there on-site, with low mileage and in mint condition. The price for 13 days was $579.04, about 45 percent less than the original quote.

Rita was diplomatic, but reinforced her belief. "Jack it pays to shop around."

Labels: active retirement communities, Jack and Rita, upscale retirement community

"Can I help you, M'am?" I asked.
"Yes, I'm loooking for SPA Vargas."
"Come along, I'm going there now."
On the elevator, the SPA button delivered us to the reception area.

"Are you from the neighborhood?"
"Yes. I live in Barrington Hills," she replied.
"Having your hair done?"
"My children are treating me to The Vargas Classic Escape: facial, manicure and pedicure. First time here, and I'm excited."

A classy woman, dressed importantly for her first visit to the SPA.

"You're a bit early. May I show you about? We have quite a complex here."
"That would be nice," she replied politely.
"No problem M'am."
"Oh call me Rose and you?" she asked.
"Jack. I live here."

"The stylists will show you around later, but we can take a quick peek. The SPA has a modern barbershop with two chairs and our ultramodern salons, all providing every care a woman or man would desire--skin care, nail care, hair care, hair removal and chemical treatments. Massage rooms are over there."

"Now, let's take a tour of our members' only pool section. These locker room doors lead to the pool area. Rose, you take the women's door then go past the 50 cherry stained lockers, the Steam and Sauna rooms, the showers and vanities. Notice the TV room. Many members like to cool down there. The door at the other end opens to the pool. I'll meet you there."

"Wow! This is an enormous area. How big is the pool?" Rose asked.
"Sixty feel long and thirty feet wide, and it holds 50,000 gallons of water heated to 88°. The air temperature is 89° helped by radiant heat under the walking surface. It's always warm enough."
"Jack, there are plenty of reclining chairs and tables and all kinds of floats that grandchildren must love."
"Rose, they can't wait to come here. They do a lot of screaming and splashing. Grandma and Grandpa get right in the pool with them, but avoid screaming and splashing when possible.
My favorite item here is that automatic chair lift. Members using motorized chairs or scooters are helped onto the lift. One push of a lever lowers them gently down into the pool, however the kids love to use the two ladders to climb in and out."

"Is that a Jacuzzi at the other end?" Rose asked.
"Yes. I use it every day to treat my lower back pain. The 102° temperature is helping it mend. Rose, I hope I haven't overdone talking about our SPA and Pool Complex. It's just that there's so much more here in this Upscale Senior Living Community."

“Jack, I enjoyed it, however I don’t see any exercise equipment.”
“Sorry, but if you are interested we’ll schedule someone in our sales department to show you around the members’ fitness center two floors above.”

Labels: Jack and Rita

Rome
Our many trips to Europe were not without some scary experiences. I remember them all clearly. The first happened in Rome, Italy, on a bus trip to the Vatican. Rita and I, crushed together in the overcroweded bus, could hardly move. Typical tourist, my money belt with the pocket in front, clearly outlined the shape of my wallet.

The bus swayed back and forth. Bored, I stared into the faces of unkown people on the way to Saint Peter's Basilica. Our bodies touched and leaned in unison. An olive complexioned man with dark hair and eyes, neatly dressed with a tie, probably Italian, moved in rhythm with me. Avoiding direct eye contact, I watched the beauty of Rome pass. Suddenly, I got a feeling that someone was touching me; I looked down and saw that my money belt zipper was halfway open and my wallet clearly visible. I abruptly closed it and stared ferociously at this cool stranger. I did not take my eyes off of him, and I tried to look ready to fight. I said nothing, just glowered at him. At the next stop, he got off and vanished into the crowd. A narrow escape, I learned that pickpockets know their business and that I had to be better at protecting my valuables.

The day turned out to be inspiring. We went to the Papal Mass mixing with the huge crowd wanting to see the Pope John Paul II. The jostling for positions by thousands of faithful separated Rita and me. I wound up buried in the center of the milling crowd while Rita, pushed to a nearby railing, lucked out. The Pope walked by on the other side of the railing, smiling and touching outstretched hands. Passing, he grasped Rita's hands between his for an instant and softly said a prayer. She felt lucky and honored to see and touch this holy man.

Florence
In Florence, the passengers climbed out of the buses slowly into a great piazza where I noticed the bands of gypsies roaming the area. I remembered published warnings to avoid them. Rita and I moved to the side of the piazza to watch for our shipmates. We noticed a tall American from our ship of Chinese ancestry leave the bus. Good-looking and confident, he wore a money belt hanging just below a trim stomach. The gypsies with young children rushed excitedly amongst our sightseers, begging for money.

A tall fellow passenger walked unkowingly into a band of gypsies. A woman, baring her breasts, while openly feeding a baby, had several young children running freely about her. A young boy, about eight, ran up to the man holding a newspaper under the passenger's face, so he could not see. In a second, they cut his money belt and carried it off. He started to scream, accusing the woman of stealing his money belt. She immediately passed the baby to a young girl and shed all her clothes revealing her full naked body to prove her innocence--she had no money belt. My eyes fixed on her nude body, thereby missing the escaping bandits, a planned distraction I'm sure. She was poor and begging for money but her trimmed pubic hair, cut for fashionable bikinis, made me wonder whether she was truly poor. We later learned that the young man lost $1,500.

Paris
Rita and I used the Metro for easy, inexpensive travel in Paris. There are 14 lines making up the Paris Metro, and I read that 293 stations handled over one-and-a-half billions trips in 1993. Just reading the names of the stations was an invitation to French history. The Metro stations are all different--large and small, below and above ground and many have exquisite beauty like the Louvre Museum area stations.

This wonderful system is not without some anxiety. We arrived at a station in the heart of Paris to return to our hotel. We left the train and headed toward the long escalator leading to the street, high above. I noticed two well-dressed men in suits, about 40 years old, talking quietly close to the foot of the escalator. Rita went first a few feet before me and then one of the men slipped in behind her separating us. The second man followed behind me. Odd, I thought, splitting us that way.

As we neared the top, Rita exited, then the first man dropped something. Bending over to pick it up, he stopped at the top end opening blocking me from exiting. The second man pushed into me from the rear. I knew I was their target. Quickly, I put my hand over my back pocket stopping him from lifting my wallet and pushed the first man on to the floor aggressively out of my path. Both disappeared into the maze of the station having failed that time. Shaken, but pleased at thwarting them, we returned to the hotel and our private happy hour.

Labels: Jack and Rita, pickpockets, the garlands upscale retirement community, upscale retirement home, upscale retirement living

Our daughter Jennifer said to our grandchildren, nine and five, "Buckle up Zachary and Natalie. We're going to Langendorf Park for a picnic and then for a swim in their great pool."

Natalie, using her best fake cry, sobbed,"I want to swim in The Garlands pool. I like it."

Grandma Rita says, “Our pool is closed for repair. You'll like the Park pool, believe me."

"Ready to launch," shouts Zachary. "All seat belts attached."

Ten minutes later, we parked at the Langendorf. The children ran off to the slides and climbing bars while we prepared a summer picnic: hot dogs, bratwurst, soft drinks and desserts. After lunch, the walking trail helped us work off some of the food.

Langendorf has a wading pool and the main pool. The slides and high jumps excited the grandchildren. Zachary and others made several dozen leaps and slides from the highest points. Natalie, not to be out done, climbed nearly to the top. Sun and activity tired us, ending a wonderful day.

Next day, after church on Sunday, we drove north thirty miles to Volo to see the unusual quaking bogs and then on to the Volo Auto Museum. The children found the bogs a fun playground, although not as exciting as the auto museum. Hundreds of old cars, refurbished like new, sat bumper to bumper for easy inspection. Grandpa saw a 1957 Chevrolet Impala just like the one he had owned. Good for Grandpa, but the grandchildren loved the cars from movies like the Scooby Mobile, Nightrider's Kitt, Flintstones car, Batmobile, etc.

Again, the hours evaporated. We must head home. No time to visit our favorite restaurant Le Vichyssois in Lakemoor suggested by Vette Kell or to the Moraine Hills State Park, site of a glacial moraine in McHenry County that Hal Guenther praises. We will have to wait another day to make these short trips with our family.

Later in the week, Rita said to me, "What a great weekend we had with the grandchildren, now, I've set up a double-treat for us."

"Double-treat, what can that be?"

She responds, "Two visits on Wednesday: the Chicago Botanical Gardens and the show at the Marriott Theatre in Lincolnshire."

"Oh, that's too much in one day."

"No. It's easy. We drive East on Lake-Cook Road twenty miles to the gardens, have late lunch, see the exhibits and when ready drive fifteen minutes to the theater for a performance at Marriott's Theater-in-the-Round. It worked out just as she planned a great introduction to Chicago's famous gardens and the Marriott's renowned theater.

Musing a bit about our Senior Living Community and its great location, I remembered that the following Sunday The Garlands courtesy limousine would drive us to the Barrington railroad station to take a train to Chicago for the Sunday matinee of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, an hour ride at no charge for seniors.

Location is a real asset to us here at the Garlands!

See Jack, Rita and the Kids below at the Volo Auto Museum.

Labels: active retirement communities, active retirement community, active senior living, Jack and Rita, senior living, upscale retirement community

"How many books do you have to return to the Barrington Library," I asked my wife, Rita
"Five or six."
"Why drive? Let's walk there, it's a beautiful day. I'll help you carry them."

The path starts at the Garlands, rises over a small hill and ends at the library, sign says one seventh of a mile.

"That was easy, the hill was no bother," Rita said.
"You're right. What is that construction going on just beyond the trees?" I asked.
"That's the new hospice center. It's due to open next year."
"I like the idea that they're in our back yard," I replied. "They're a great organization and the building fund is still going on."
"What a splendid day," She said. "Let's walk over the Garlands Bridge to Citizen's Park and check out the tree house, slides and picnic tables. You know the grand children love to play there."
"Great idea, Dear"

One couple played tennis as we passed the courts. The incline to the tree house was busy with families. A group of eight spread out a summer picnic meal on the table at the tree house platform. They talked and laughed loudly.

Rita said, "Jack it's a perfect day to walk through Cuba Marsh. We can go out a half mile using the boardwalks and return."
"Another good idea. Let's do it!"

We enjoyed our walk. The Cuba marsh is extensive and primordial. The birds make nearly all the sounds, but others, especially frogs contribute. The walk starts at a boardwalk over a small part of the marsh ending at a gravel path that leads shortly to the main long boardwalk. We followed that for our half-mile trek.

"We had a good time today. How about walking over to Langendorf Park tomorrow and have a picnic near the great public swimming pool?" I asked.

"Two miles is not far to walk, but the traffic is heavy at the crossing corner. I prefer driving especially because we'll have food and blankets."

Location, location, location. That's part of what we have here at our Active Senior Living community.

Jack Roche

Labels: active senior living, Jack and Rita, Midwest retirement home, upscale retirement home, upscale senior living

It was emotional and exciting. Thirty or more members and staff rallied around Cheryl and Gary Karlin, Producers, to fulfill their idea of an Academy Awards evening. Eight Oscar winning movie scenes, selected by members, filled the program.

George and Vally Flint, former directors and producers of the Garlands Play-Reading Group, flew in from Florida to watch their former actors emote for the new Producers and present the Oscars.

Cocktails and hors-d'oeuvres started at 5 PM in the Robbie Lounge. Actors in dress costumes mingled accepting encouragement and good wishes. The enthusiasm continued to the Winslow for a candlelight dinner then on to the walk down the red carpet with photographers and paparazzi.

Actors, experts in sound and lighting and the back stage crew came together to provide wonderful entertainment. The scene group leaders selected the props, costumes and songs. Our Don Reed and his daughter Sarah Maple created audio/visual background, initiated music and aided voice projection.

The eight Oscar scenes for the evening were Gigi, Casablanca, All About Eve, Rear Window, Stagecoach, An Affair To Remember, Arsenic and Old Lace, and Fiddler On the Roof. Arsenic and Old Lace won the audience vote for best performance. The winning actors: Betty Guthrie, Carol Holmes, George Flint, Vette Kell, Jeanette Hidding and Marilyn Van Huss rushed happily to the stage to receive their Oscars.

We thank Cheryl and Gary Karlin for their creativity, stamina and persistence in fashioning the marvel of our own Academy Award Show. Finally, the Garlands management earned high praise for their positive support making available actors, workers and facilities.

Too many members and staff to name individually, however our active retirement community thanks them all for the joy created. Happily, a video by Jackie Rubashkin of Barrington High School recorded it all.

Jack Roche

Labels: active retirement communities, active retirement community, active senior living, Jack and Rita

There is a story to be told in my retirement community. It is a story of love. It isn't puppy love, young love or the many-splendored love of years past. It is lasting love: love over time. Not sexual, but simply love of each other as partners.

Care is love. Care of what was, what is and what will come. We walk slower now, can't see as before, and hold hands for warmth and support.

Aging is not uniform or equal. Time takes from each at its will and whim. We pray first for the other partner to stay well then our self.

Our bodies slow differently: Alzheimer's disease steals bit by bit the light of knowledge. Nerve systems weaken and short-circuit. Arteries clog. One partner becomes the light, another helps recognition.

The story is the caregiver. Care given daily, constantly, wearily shows lasting love. "Until death do us part" is recalled while time flows onward. Love becomes duty; honorable, enduring and necessary.

How does one tell the story of lasting love? I tell it by admiring the spouse pushing a wheelchair providing mobility and togetherness, by applauding those who read to the other with dimming sight, and by praising those who explain, interpret and encourage loved ones unable to remember their world.

Any lapses in the past are forgotten with today's love; a lasting love.

Labels: active retirement community, Chicago independent living, Jack and Rita, senior living facility, senior retirement communities, the garlands

Hans and Istvan, The Garlands Gourmets.

"Gourmet food at a retirement community? You gotta be kiddin'!" said my wife, Rita.

"No. I'm not!" I replied. "Istvan Abdai, Director of Food and Beverage, and Hans Ladwein, Executive Chef, have joined culinary forces to create a gourmet night at the Roycroft, our upscale restaurant."

And so off we went . . .

Hans has a reassuring German accent that lends authority to his role as master chef. Istvan prides himself on having studied and mastered the subtle art of matching wine to cuisine, and he describes it in a distinctive Dutch tone, adding to the mystery of the wine.

The Chef's Table was where twenty gathered at the Roycroft about five thirty to begin a gourmet treat. Standing, the members mingled enjoying white and red wines, hors d'oeuvres and excited conversation--an appropriate beginning to the long-awaited evening.

A grand u-shape of tables with white table cloths, scattered flowers, assorted wine glasses and fancy silver cutlery set the mood for "Gourmet." The open end of the u directed us to Hans and Istvan who carefully and knowledgeably prepared us for the meal.

Hans and Istvan detailed the excellence to come: Chilled Swiss Cucumber Soup with a white Riesling Kabinett 2006 from Hirschbach und Sohne— introduced the high level of dining. Then a medley of spring greens, tossed tableside with cider vinegar, olive oil, honey poupon and walnuts. All nursed with a Camelot Chardonnay 2007. Pan-seared Diver scallops (hand picked deep in the ocean) placed over black cappelini in truffle oil and lemon-basil beurre blanc (a rich hot butter sauce with a white wine reduction) announced Hans' five-star ability. Istvan's kept this great food tied-in to the Camelot Chardonnay 2007.

We stopped for an amuse-bouche: a Blood Orange Sorbet, to refresh our
palettes before the main course.

The Marsala glazed lollipop veal chop was set on braised baby leaks. Roasted mushroom potatoes, tomato Florentine and shitake caps blended well with the veal as did the Estancia Central Coast Merlot 2007.

Great restaurants in our "Upscale Senior Living" retirement community demand a great finish to a great meal. Hans hit it on the nose with Cappuccino mousse and chocolate ganache on pomegranate coulis with chocolate and berry garnish.

As we left fully satisfied, I asked, "Are you a convert to exquisite dining here at the Roycroft?"

"I've been converted!" Rita replied, "Can't wait until Hans and Istvan have another 'Gourmet Delight."

Labels: Chicago assisted living, Jack and Rita, Midwest retirement home, upscale retirement community, upscale senior living

The Garlands' dining program works like a charm primarily because of its several restaurant options and flexible seating arrangements. Members have great independence to choose when, where and with whom to dine.

The fact is that it is more than an eating plan; it's a "social plus" for the whole community. Most members belong to the plan. The $300 a month for food and drinks is included in the monthly service fee, making it a simple plan that creates great social interaction among the members.

Members call each other to share mealtime together. There is no "picking up the tab" when you invite someone to eat with you--they have their own dining dollars. Members make reservations, when they want to, for a table of two through eight, based on their grouping for the evening. No need for reservations but many choose to do so. The most frequented are the Grill and Winslow restaurants while the Roycroft is our gourmet, special event venue. The Café shop has coffee and tea available during the day and occasional light dinners.

Each member has someone in their household arrange and keep track of dining commitments--a social director. Happy Hours at the Timbers Lounge for the Grill on Mondays and at the Robie Lounge for the Winslow on Wednesdays spur the camaraderie among members before dinner.

We gather, on occasion, at a host's apartment for cocktails, hors-d'oeuvres and great conversation before, and sometimes after dinner. The dining program and happy hours encourage mingling and getting to know each other better.

A fun time is at the end of the month when those who have not spent the entitlement try to cover the minimum. Many buy extra meals for their freezer to eat later. Most of the fun happens when neighbors decide to reach their mark by buying bottles of wine, often happily shared, to help top-off the unspent balance. Our upscale retirement community has a lot going for it, especially the dining program.

Jack Roche

Labels: active retirement communities, active senior living, chicago senior living, Jack and Rita, senior living, senior retirement communities