I’ve been listening with interest to the recent radio ads
running for the “Weather the Winter” marketing initiative at Friendship Village
in Schaumburg. The Village is described on its website as:
In one of the ads, two friends are talking on the phone. One
lives at the Village and enthusiastically invites her friend to come visit. The
friend, though, is stranded in her home, alone, needing to shovel her sidewalk
after a blizzard. She then describes how she’ll be spending her non-shoveling
time: alone, with “just me and the TV.”
The image that comes into my head about the sad woman is
that she lives alone in a house in the suburbs, probably not far from Schaumburg; is
single, divorced, or widowed; has no children or grandchildren, nor nearby
neighbors to help or spend time with her; and is dependent on a car to get
around, as there is likely no good public transportation available out where
she lives.
And so the most obvious response to this dilemma—older woman
alone shoveling snow then cuddling up to a TV by herself—is to come “Weather
the Winter” in a retirement community that she just may want to end up living
in beyond the Winter.
Here’s how the FV website describes what awaits her during
her 90-day stay:
Warm up to
Friendship Village!
Welcome to Weather the
Winter, the easiest way to get familiar with Friendship Village. It’s a
no-obligation, low-cost 90-day trial. Simply fill out the form and we’ll do the
rest. A sales counselor will contact you to set up an appointment. All you have
to do is pack a bag and relax in a beautifully furnished apartment home.
One simple monthly service
fee covers everything:
Access to five dining
venues, the fitness and aquatic center, scheduled transportation, housekeeping
and more.
All utilities except
telephone and flexible meal plan included.
Security and safety from the
winter elements is guaranteed.
Sign up for Weather the Winter
between now and March 31st and change the way your winter looks.
Now while
perhaps a good marketing strategy, this initiative highlights what “aging in
place” in the suburbs may look like for a sizeable portion of my fellow agers.
And
it’s a pretty bleak picture, especially from the vantage point of an older, also single, city
dweller, surrounded as I am by a multitude of communities to be a part of—libraries, cultural institutions, parks and preserves, circles of friends, music venues, etc.,
etc.—that ease the stress of Chicago’s fierce winters and are often a train or bus ride or short walk away.
Oh,
and the best part is that these communities are rich in diversity and difference: Not everyone in them looks just like me, which only
adds to the pleasure of belonging to them.