Living Life Lakeside..........Part III

As I’m starting to ‘kind of’ get acclimated to living in Mississippi – heavy emphasis on ‘kind of’, thus the quotation marks, for effect – I think it time to get into the nuts and bolts of what constitutes “Living Life Lakeside"; and living life lakeside is all about exclusive keyed entry into 2945 Layfair Drive, Apartment # 1122, at the beautiful Reflection Pointe apartment complex, a literal stones’ throw from the Ergon HQ’s at Mirror Lake Plaza.

The Reflection Pointe Apartment complex, (the ‘e’ at the end of the traditional spelling of ‘Point’ indicating an air of elegance; this isn’t your normal old point, no, this point is dripping with…well, something special that warrants it an ‘e’ on the end) is a 100+ unit development that was built in, I would guess, the early 1970’s. They haven’t done much to the infrastructure since then, save for repairing what breaks, as it breaks, in the individual units. My heater/air conditioner sounds a lot like a 1954 Ford truck with bad wheel bearings flying out of control down a gravel road; the few times that it’s kicked on in the middle of the night had me fast awake and scrambling for cover. They are at the point where they’re replacing carpet when the units turn; my unit had fresh paint and new carpet when I moved in, but that still didn’t mask the smell of how many months/years of cigarette smoke infused into the walls by the previous occupants. It was so bad, that even when wearing clean, newly washed clothes that had hung in the closet for a few days, I still smelled of rank, old cigarette smoke when I went out of the apartment.

The 40+ year-old vinyl siding, and all of the interior and exterior wood trim, which is rife with rot, is in desperate need of replacement. My 5’x10’ balcony – quite an accoutrement to this bachelor’s dream pad – is shaky to the point that I hold my breath when I step out upon it, fearing that the extra weight and motion involved in my inhaling and exhaling a belly full of air might pull the deck from its supports, tumbling me headlong into the Mississippi flora and fauna that, year-round, flourishes 10’ below.

I don’t spend a lot of time at Reflection Pointe, as I mostly travel during the week on business. But the weekends alone at Reflection Pointe are special, spent mostly doing laundry at the Reflection Pointe laundry center, located about 150 yards from my apartment. I save my quarters all week, and plod across the green space, around the pool, and into the laundry room, with my basket of dirty clothes in tow. I’m quick to get my stuff in and out, as young neighbors who might venture into the laundry room while I sort and fold my whitey-tighties might look at me and ask themselves, “Wow, what sort of a retro-throwback thing lives amongst us and actually wears, well, what are those elasticized little white things he’s folding?”

I’m gonna come clean here and admit that I am, by far, the oldest dude that I’ve seen living at Reflection Pointe. The complex is inhabited by 20-30 year-olds who work at the nearby medical facilities, National Guard and USAF bases, and/or kids or newlyweds just out of college who inhabit this place as a short stop-off until they age enough or wage enough to buy themselves a house and get the hell on with their lives. Those that notice me have to ask themselves, “What has this poor bastard done to end up here at this point in his life, toting his laundry basket across the green space at Reflection Pointe? Geez, how can I avoid that happening to me? Maybe I should go talk to him. Nah, I’d rather not know. And he's a little scary.”

Part of me wants to go door to door and explain myself, “No, I’m not a newly paroled sex-offender, divorcée, AA-member; I’ve got a good job, a wife and family, and I’m a minority owner (Lucy being the majority owner) of a 13,000 square-foot hotel, bar & restaurant on the Colorado River!” My guess is, the truth would scare them even more, as upon hearing that truth, it would only confirm their pre-supposed suspicions of me not only being a newly paroled sex-offender, divorcée, AA-member, but a crazy, delusional, lying SOB as well. A grey-haired, not quite so good looking John Edwards comes to mind.

I’ll further come clean and tell you that I hate living at Reflection Pointe, alone, in a place that I would have turned my nose up at shortly out of college and gainfully employed. And the key word here is ‘alone’. Julie and I are getting ready to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary this June. That isn’t an accident; we love each other and have enjoyed living together for 30 years. Living without her, whether it is in Reflection Pointe or the Taj Mahal, sucks!

“Oh woe is me, and woe is my situation!” I've spent a lot of my Reflection Pointe weekend time having this self-pity party. And now, I’ll stumble all over trite and obvious territory and tell it like it is.

Haiti happened, right smack dab in the middle of my 'woe is me' party.

I live in a warm, comfortable one bedroom apartment with running water, a shower and flush toilet, a full kitchen and cable TV. HDTV to boot! I have a sketchy wooden deck with a Weber Little Smoky that I cook on most nights, enjoying the 50+degree Mississippi winter evenings.

The King of Haiti would kill for what I have.

When I look at how the rest of the world lives, what they daily have to deal with, and what constitutes pain and suffering to them, I now understand and appreciate the ‘e’ at the end of my pointe. It is a special place, and I'm fortunate to be able to live at the Pointe. I just wish my wife was here.