Member-only story
Open Arms and Closed Doors
Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
The Open Arms was not a well-known part of the retirement community in Florida, but it was not entirely obscure. It was not luxurious — it would not have been mistaken for a resort — but it was no skid row. It was, like a dozen or so neighboring facilities, a place where superannuated seniors (with income) could expire in reasonable comfort without being an inconvenience to their families. In other words, a home for the terminally old.
The place was unique in many ways: it was quite small, it had an all male staff and residents; it resembled a private men’s club but without cigars and brandy, or a college dorm without beer and recreational drugs. The residence committee — the home was managed democratically — avoided admitting anyone seriously ill. The consensus was it’s annoying to have people die around you too frequently and interesting conversations truncated.
Visitors were rare, although not banned: residents had mostly outlived those who might remember them. If they had children — few of them did — their kids had existential claims on their own lives.
The average age at admission was 80; the average stay 10 years — a few stragglers refused to die and puttered on after their 90s. They were tolerated as long as they were reasonably…
