Considering Condo Living

Live in a condo?

Banish the thought, I used to think. I like a garden and lots of space to plant fruit trees, flowers and vegetables.

I did get a garden and planted strawberries, yams and apricot trees. They were just about to bear fruit when the unexpected happened; I injured my foot and was on crutches.

After six months on sticks and still no end in sight my daughters suggested that I move to a condo. Those 28 steps to my front door and all the gardening were getting me down.

To my surprise, I liked condo living; there was an elevator, a manager to make repairs, and gardeners to mow and blow. My children were grown, but by the warm pool I could laugh with the kids of other residents. Best of all, the condo had extensive grounds. I’ve counted over a 100 trees—decorative trees—and hundreds of bushes and flowers that I didn't have to take care of.

Before long, someone nominated me to be on the board; five volunteers manage the complex of 200+ units. Having received much kindness and help at one time or another, it seemed like a good idea. It’s gratifying to give, more so than to receive.

The first meeting of the new directors was to assign the five positions—president, treasurer, secretary, V.P. of buildings, and V.P. of grounds. Nothing easier; or so I thought. But a kind neighbor warned me that it might be a long night.

So I decided to take some sewing along. Keeping my hands busy works better than a pacifier or a tranquilizer; besides, it puts me in a happy frame of mind to know I'm getting something done.

It turned out to be a lively meeting! Two members were determined to be president and two vied to be treasurer, all four were talking at the same time. I quietly sowed, blessing my neighbor for warning me, when one of the ladies noticed my presence and asked, “Ros, which position do you NOT want?” “Gardening might be a bit tough,” I replied, pointing to my crutches. And the debate continued.

After an hour and a half they reached a consensus, and the same lady turned to me matter-of-factly and said, “Ros, you’ll be V.P of Grounds.” At a loss for words I simply nodded and packed away my sewing.

This was many years ago. I’m no longer on crutches and am still V.P. of Grounds, the only resident entitled to putter around in the garden. Yes, I do like condo living!

Rosi McIntosh