For those of you who have subscribed to V-Mail you probably have been watching the building of Brownwood, which will be our third downtown area.  However if you haven’t, I highly recommend watching it. I have enjoyed all the episodes, of which there are presently six.   I have especially enjoyed episode 5, which is about the artists that are doing the art work on the buildings, and episode 6, which is about the mature trees being planted, one weighing 55 thousand pounds, if you can imagine. Also, a look inside the Barnstorm theatre with the utilization of Styrofoam in building the theatres, and then a look at the log cabins being erected with trees that were felled over 250-300 years ago. It is so interesting and as a Villager I can’t express my excitement  enough, for this wonderful addition to our community. You can catch up on all the the episodes by going to www.youtube.com and in search at the top, type in Building of Brownwood.  I know you will be as impresssed as I am.   I am still in awe of the planting of the trees, which when done will number over 1000.   When I think things can’t get any better, The Villages do it again.  Amazing.

In 1908 Henry was blessed with a daughter.  He was 68 years old, and she was the apple of his eye.   He had returned from America for the blessed event, as he had wanted her to be born in his family home, where he along with many generations had been born.   She was named after him,  Henrietta, and she grew up very privileged.  He doted on her and was her Father, her Grandfather and her very best friend.  He spent almost every waking hour with her and exposed her to the best of everything.  He took her into London for piano lessons, and she rode horseback alongside of him.  In 1918 her world changed.  Henry died at the age of 78 and left Henrietta broken hearted.  He had invested in real estate in America, and his young widow had to come here to be able to support herself and her daughter.  Henrietta did not find those first years easy.  First the loss of her Father and then leaving the familiarity of the Village she grew up in was almost too much to bear.  The fact that her classmates taunted her because of her English accent and  she was dressed in black for a year of  mourning, just added to her sadness.  She longed for those times spent with her Father.  She returned to England many years later and went to the church yard where her Father was buried.  She could not find his burial plot and the Church no longer had the records from 1918, so they could not help her.  She returned to America disappointed.  She never stopped thinking about him, and recalled  that when they walked out of the church he was buried next to a very small tree.  She realized that that tree was no longer small, but 50 years old.  She returned to the village several years later, and she brought a trowel with her.  She found the tree and started digging around it.  Within a short period of time she found what she had been looking for.  She found the stone that bore her Father’s name.   She had the local funeral home restore the grave, and had a new stone put in its’ place.  The inscription she had put on the stone was  Henry 1918 and his devoted daughter, Henrietta.  In 1996, Henrietta’s ashes were placed with him.  Henrietta was my Mother, and I think of her fondly today, knowing she is with her Father, who meant so much to her.

As anyone is aware that has been following my blog, there is no rythme nor reason to the subjects I blog about. There is no continuity from one day to the next, and there are no axes to grind, no political opinions, and nothing negative. I think I am in a retirement frame of mind, I’ve fought the battles to keep power tower lines away from my home in NJ, I’ve knocked on doors and licked envelopes promoting my favorite candidates, and negativity has never been a part of my dna. I think I was taught, don’t complain do something about it, and if you don’t do something about it then don’t complain. I will say though, that what got me started blogging was my love of The Villages: the developer, the residents, the volunteers, the activities, the recreation centers, the country clubs, and the over all aesthetics. Aesthetics, the word came to me when I looked out my back window this morning and saw the water fowl returning to the preserve behind my house, the sun was just coming up and then the word appeared. I decided I wanted to use that word, and forgetting about spell check, I grabbed my dictionary to look it up. The nice thing about a dictionary is you get to read the definition, and that is half the reward for checking the spelling. Aesthetics n: science or theory of beautiful. Aesthetics adj: sensitive to beauty in art or nature. I can’t think of better noun or adjective to describe the many, many views in The Villages. The sunsets on the Lake Sumter bridge, the many lake and golf course views, the buildings in the downtown areas, Spanish Springs, Lake Sumter Landing and soon to be Brownwood, the Veterans Park at Mira Mesa Lake, the exteriors and interiors or our recreation centers, Savannah Center, Church on the Square. How about the entrance to the Glenview Country Club, with ponds and waterfall. If you have never watched the ducklings try to follow their mothers up the waterfall to the larger pond, you might want to try it. Or the Polo fields with the magnificent horses…and their riders,equally magnificent. I know we are referred to as the friendliest hometown, and healthiest hometown, maybe it should be the The Villages n: The friendliest, healthiest, most aesthetically pleasing hometown. I think Webster would approve.

I really think everyone loves some type of music.  I have rarely heard anyone say, I don’t like music. If I never hear another note of music in my lifetime I will be so happy. I have heard people say I love jazz, but I don’t like rock, or I like banjos but I don’t like saxophones. I’ve was known to mutter under my breath when my sons were in High School…and I don’t understand todays youth’s choice of music. But of course, did our parents and grandparents jump for joy when Elvis came into our lives or I’m sure they asked themselves, what does an earth worm have to do with love? Anyway, no matter what type of music you like it is most likely here in The Villages. Today at the Civil Discourse meeting a member mentioned that he had attended as a spectator, a Piano Club meeting at Laurel Manor and said it was exhilerating and suggested that if anyone wants to spend an enjoyable afternoon mark your calendar and attend their next meeting. They meet the lst Wednesday of the month, at 3pm at Laurel Manor Recreation Center. I know Sean and I have attended the Traditional Irish Music club, and have enjoyed every minute of their playing. There is a saxophone group, trombones, red carter jazz, dixieland jazz,bluegrass, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, and then there are the bands, German band, The Villages concert band, brass band, you name it and they will be practicing at one of the centers. I happened one day to hear banjos, and went to see what was going on. It was a group of banjo players having a wonderful time, and I just quietly sat in and listened. Those playing seem to love having people come in that appreciate their music. To find out the clubs’ schedule, you again can go to districtgov.org, department, recreation,lifestyle volunteers, club contact and see their schedules. Look under Band or Music and the particular instrument you are interested in, it will be listed in one of those categories. The piano club sounded really like a lot of fun. Maybe I will see you there, I’ll be the one tapping my toes.

I’m so sorry  that I did not mention you when blogging about my cold porcelain class and the woman that were in it.  Besides Yvonne the teacher, you were the next most important person. You came to be supportive of Jean, and little did you know you would wind up taking care of all of us.  You were kept busy kneading, hand rolling and then putting the porcelain through the pasta maker, so that we were sure to have enough for 10 more leaves or 40 more feathers.   You never tired, as we did, and you even helped clean up.  Thanks Hank,  you certainly are special.

about me? When I am writing my blog, I will most often write in generalities, unless I am featuring one person in particular. I think it could be because for years being a real estate broker, the privacy act is something we incorporated into our everyday interactions with people.  We never divulged information about anyone, not even that we knew them or saw them.  So having that mind set through training, I am always surprised when someone hears about my blog and they say, what did you say about me? Well, that happened yesterday and I felt really bad that I had not mentioned her name, so I will try to make up to her. Her name is Yvonne Santiago and I met her at my cold porcelain class. She is a delightful and talented woman who was born in Honduras, and as a matter of fact she was recently featured in the Mix for having a large family reunion, with relatives coming from Honduras and other faraway places. She actually is the teacher and is extremely good at what she does. I have taken two classes with Yvonne, in one we made a hibiscus with a hummingbird and the other we made an orchid plant with nine flowers on it. She  makes sure that they turn out just right, as she will help, suggest and even do when she feels it is necessary to make sure the final product is perfect. I haven’t known Yvonne very long, but I believe she has a mischievious personality, is extremely  knowledgable about a lot of things, has a very successful family that she is proud of, and although she can be  quiet,  she is  not missing  a trick.  Those also taking the class were  Pat, Jean, Ginny, Kaye and myself.   We all came from the NY Metropolitan area, I’m  from NJ and the others from NY City or Long Island, except for Kaye who I have to  believe has some NY in her, or she has been associating with New Yorkers.   You never want to get in a New Yorkers radar, if you do you are doomed.  At one point Pat said, “C’mon Charlotte you’re too quiet, you have to stand up for yourself.”  Oh no, the minute I stand up for myself, I am an open target, and I am having too much fun listening to all of them tease each other.   Yvonne took all their teasings in stride and in some cases gave it right back.    New Yorkers tease…other parts of the country call it harassing…it is best described as friendly harassment.  If you’re being friendly harassed,  that means they like you, it is when they ignore you that you have to be worried.  Anyway, it was a great class, with a great teacher and great new friends and it was fun saying something about them.  Their teasing, or better known as friendly harassment,  made me do it.

I was recently reading a book about living a joyful life, or something like that, and this one sentence really stuck in my head. School never ends, the classroom is everywhere.  The classroom is not necessarily a room with a teacher and 25 desks.  Our original classroom started out in the crib, and then onto the sandbox.  Although we did spend many years in classrooms,  some of our hardest lessons were learned in other places.   We silently watched our parents, we learned and  we grew up to be like them, or not to be like them.   Many have more book knowledge, more degrees and that is admirable and in many cases  more profitable,  but how does that compare to life lessons?  If classrooms are everywhere, everyone is learning…something.  Some of the most successful people talk about having a mentor.  Someone that came into their life,  saw a raw talent and  believed in it.  They never gave up on you until you believed in it yourself.  What also made me think about classrooms is the other day I was learning how to mold cold porcelain.  There were five of us and as we got to know each other and shared bits of our prior lives, it was amazing to me how many different  talents they had, and how involved they were in other activities.  When I think of my grandparents when they were my age I couldn’t imagine them playing pickleball, baseball or golf, for that matter.  I never saw my grandparents in bathing suits.  It seemed their classrooms were gone.   The Villages,  on the other hand, is one big classroom.  Whether it is athletic lessons, artistic lessons, computer lessons, health lessons, and more; they are all here and we are really having fun learning.  I  especially enjoy the  lessons learned by others, that were unpacked when they arrived here and unselfishly shared.  It is so true…school never ends, the classroom is everywhere.

Don’t go away. It did, and the sun is shining brightly now, but it was wonderful to get four or five days of good rain, meaning it was continuous, not the five or ten minutes we often get. We had times when it poured for a half an hour to an hour, and it did this on and off for several days. I heard avid golfers say when they woke up they heard the rain and just turned over and went back to sleep. Not my golfer,he got up, readied himself, packed his umbrella and left for the course, and returned home shortly. He didn’t complain though, as he’s from Ireland and warm rain does not faze him at all. If anything he becomes melancholy. As I rode through The Villages yesterday, it was amazing how green and lush everything looked; the landscaping, lawns and golf courses, they looked like pictures out of Ireland. As I went over the bridge at Lake Sumter I could not help but marvel at how full the lake was. I live on a preserve that has been in dire need of water. The wild life had left for more fertile ground, but returned immediately as soon as there was water. The large herons were back, along with their smaller counterparts. Today however, the sun is shining brightley, and we are all enjoying that, but wouldn’t it be nice if we could hear it raining and pouring while we all are snoring, and then get up to a sunshiny day. Just dreaming out loud and surprising myself with the fact I could even wish for anything better than what we have. Love the rain, but love the sunshine even more.

It is unfortunate that as we get older we can injure ourselves very easily. We get out of shape at the drop of a hat. When we were young we never exercised and we could run fast, jump high, fall down, lift anything and we never felt worse for wear. Now we have to work at staying fit, and if we miss a couple of days we are almost back to day one and we have to start all over. It’s one thing to over extend ourselves when working in the garden, or scrubbing a floor, playing tennis or walking an extra mile or two, at least the next day when we get up we have accomplished something. Those aches and pains are the fruits of our labor. What is absolutely maddening is to go to bed fine and wake up with an injury. Arms and knees seem to suffer the most injury while sleeping, which is a little baffling as I can’t imagine that one was running, or jumping, or throwing while sleeping. There is a silver lining though to these injuries…a few Advil or Motrin get rid of them very quickly, which affords us the opportunity to go out and get a few real injuries with accomplishments, which makes them all worthwhile.