LIFE AT CLERBROOK

We spend our winters at Clerbrook Golf and RV Resort. I love that name; it makes the place sound so classy. Well, as campgrounds go, it is classy. It is a gated community and the guard shack is manned 24/7. That is so they can keep out the riff-raff. Most of it that is. They let me in. Regardless, it is a nice place with nice people.

The campground has 1257 sites with about one-third of those sites having park model trailers on them. A park model trailer is a somewhat fancier trailer than a travel trailer, and owners rent their site year around, while RVers only pay for their site while parked on it. Park models also typically have a so-called Florida Room attached. This is a screened-in room with sliding glass windows all around that nearly doubles the size of the structures living space. Our particular unit has an attached shed that houses a washer and dryer along with some tools and miscellanea. The little breezeway between the shed and the house becomes a parking place for our golf cart.

For trailer trash, we live in relative comfort, as you can probably tell.

I mentioned earlier that this is a nice place with nice people. I have decided that it must be law that only pleasant people can buy RVs. I have the feeling that if you are a grumpy, disagreeable person most RV dealers will refuse to sell you an RV. Either that or any such person who manages to get one learns quickly that he/she will be unhappy (and unwelcome) in most campgrounds. (I suppose it is possible that naturally disagreeable people will find that in keeping with their view of life.) Regardless, you find very few disagreeable people in campgrounds.

A campground with over 1200 campsites becomes a small village this time of year when most of the campsites are occupied with snowbirds visiting Florida to escape the harsh winter weather of their “up north” home. The “village” idea becomes apparent as you walk or ride around the place. Everyone smiles and waves as you pass as if they had known you all their lives. Walking, biking, in golf cart or car, everyone waves to everyone they meet – and usually offer a greeting: “Good morning.” “How are you doing?” “Hey, nice day.”

Joyce and I run into the same “small town” friendliness when we visit our place in Colorado. Once you leave the main highway and start the seven-mile, dirt road drive to our house, everyone you pass in pickup or car will give you a wave of the hand or some other sign of acknowledgment. And if you stop for any reason, anyone passing by will stop to see if you need assistance. They may know you, recognize your car or truck, or not, it doesn’t matter. Stop first and ask questions later. You are likely not there if you don’t belong there, so you must be a neighbor. And neighbors help neighbors. That’s just the way it is.

There are a lot of walkers and bikers here at Clerbrook. Unfortunately, there are a great many who are not walkers or bikers, but who should be. The nation’s obesity problem is not restricted to the young; there are many senior citizens overweight. It is hard to be critical when you do not know what sort of physical limitations they may have that contributes to or makes it difficult for them to get sufficient exercise. It is clear, however, that they have insufficient strength in their arms to push themselves away from the dinner table. I guess a bit of sympathy might be in order. (I’ll have to try that sometime.)

I have a route that I walk most every morning that covers 3.25 miles. I do it in about one hour, which means I am walking a bit over three miles per hour. I used to try to maintain a four-mile-per-hour pace, but I have had to slow down some since my several visits to the cardiac catheterization lab. Joyce gets upset when I collapse alongside the road. It embarrasses her. That, plus she thinks I should have more sense than to push myself to the point of exhaustion. Silly woman. (I have many fine attributes; good sense has never been one of them.)

I must also admit that I am recovering from a common cold. Hence, I have been unable to do my Jack LaLanne imitation morning exercises, so I have to be content with walking. I would be remiss if I did not comment that I had numerous requests from women in the campground that I wear a tight fitting, belted jump suit with short sleeves and do my morning exercises in front of the TV camera so they could follow along. Modesty compelled me to decline. I would feel uncomfortable flaunting my body for their, probably, sexual fantasies. Besides, their flabby, potbellied husbands would hate me even more than they do.

My taut, bronzed, two-pack hard body causes enough distractions now when I visit the pool. I do not want to be the cause or more dissension among my campground female friends and their male partners.

This is, as I said, a small village and maintaining village harmony is important. I will do my part and stay away from the TV camera when doing my morning exercises.