I was asked to write a short article about my experience living at the The Maple Residences. So, for those of you who may be contemplating such a move, this has been my experience.
I left my small townhome and beloved garden three years ago and moved to The Maple. From the day I moved in, I hated it! I hated the people passing in the hallways who all politely said “hello” and asked me how I was feeling! I hated my one bedroom and den for which I am paying less than $3,000. I hated all the staff who went out of their way to make me feel welcome. I really wished I hadn’t moved. I did a lot of crying.
But, of course, I didn’t really hate any of it. I hated myself for being so old and decrepit that I couldn’t manage on my own. Gradually, over the three years, I have done a complete about-turn. Now I tell myself, I’m lucky I’m not in a sleeping bag on East Hastings Street. I don’t have my former garden, but there are substitutes. I bought planters for the balcony (everyone has a balcony) and have enjoyed year-round colourful red geraniums and other blooms. This year, I had a huge harvest of four small tomatoes! And speaking of gardens, The Maple has two beautiful ones with welcoming benches loved and nurtured to be more beautiful by a lady resident. Maple dwellers can have a small plot if they so wish.
Instead of feeling lonely, I have many people like me — old, white haired and bent over a walker -— who are ready to be friends. It’s a matter of picking someone who shares the same philosophy before getting too friendly.
If someone called out, “Will the white haired, lined old lady with the walker please come forward,” there would be a very slow stampede in that direction. I have a heck of a time remembering people. They all look alike, but of course they don’t, and it’s very insulting to ask a person’s name when you’ve been introduced a few times already. I can remember numbers but not names, which is a real drawback in a place like this.
There is no end to entertainment. For those of us who think we have some intellectual acumen, there is the Philosopher’s Café or You Be the Judge or a spelling bee, and no end of games, including Bingo at 50 cents a card. I made a whole six dollars recently. And whist, crib, bridge, scrabble, a billiard table and body building machines in a sports room close to the beauty salon where shampoos, perms, manicures and pedicures are offered very reasonably.
I am not a foodie, but the meals are healthy, plentiful and served with a smile.
So much is free. For example, there are monthly bus trips to casinos, malls and restaurants (for food we pay). I recently enjoyed a visit to Cloverdale and a heritage train ride for $10.
Two clothiers and two jewellers bring in their wares on trolleys about six times a year and Purdy’s Chocolates comes before Christmas.
You would be tempted to think the architect was a magician. Everything is laid out so well and because the building is new, everything actually works.
Romance isn’t rampant at The Maple, but it still finds a way. My neighbour, who is 97, has just become very friendly with a 94-year-old gentleman.
“I’m robbing the cradle,” she laughed when she told me her feelings for him. And another couple from very different walks of life now travel hand in hand. I don’t know the exact ratio of men to women, but the males must be in heaven with so many single ladies.
There is a suite available for out of town visitors at a reasonable rate and guests for dinner are welcomed for the price of the dinner. I have a friend who stays overnight every four months in my den’s single bed, on her way from the Sunshine Coast to Toronto to visit grandchildren. We have a couple of drinks and reminisce about old times.
Choral and musical groups are brought in for our entertainment. We see everything from an Elvis impersonator to high school classical musical groups.
For many of us, the happiest days are those when our children and grandchildren visit. My 17-year-old granddaughter, Madeleine, came to talk to the residents about her week in Ottawa with Encounters With Canada. I was a very proud grandmother!
A seniors’ facility can become a world in itself. Residents care about each other. I didn’t go to dinner today and received three phone calls asking if I was OK.
I have a macabre sense of humour and laugh to myself when I think of this place as a departure lounge, but it is — and a very nice one at that.
