When I retired, we moved to our second home in Arizona. We soon learned that our lovely guard-gated community had no activities or get-togethers of any kind and no sense of community. After five years, we had developed no friendships. I had no golfing buddies, and Linda’s only friends were women she saw professionally: her hairdresser, decorator, etc.
We started looking for an active adult community. Active not in athletics, but active socially. We looked and looked and were ready to give up when we saw the ad for Country Club Estates in Where to Retire magazine.
We moved into our new home and were immediately welcomed into the community by a host of new friends. This was exactly what we were looking for. Before long, we learned that there was a sizable unhappy faction in CCE being riled by a misguided HOA. I got involved and sided with the builder-friendly side in the growing feud.
I wrote and distributed my satirical piece, Angry Adult Community, and became the spokesperson for the good guys. I followed with a couple of parables The Crock-Pot and The Whistle. I was on the staff of the community newsletter and known primarily for my rants.
Things got nasty in the growing CCE feud, so nasty that bad guys sicced the police on me. Sanity eventually won out and all is now well, or as good as you’d expect. I tell that story in When Lunacy Ruled (or thought they did).
Too Much Tequila, Too Little Sunscreen 