Getting the Point
BUT ON THE OTHER HORN….
by Bob Buddemeier
Have you heard the expression, “on the horns of a dilemma”? Well, I’m here to tell you what it’s like to be gored by one. Not just any old dilemma, but an Existential Dilemma, one of the most dangerous kind. It came charging off the internet in the form of an RVMlist post by Gini Armstrong that said, among other things, “Information will be rolled out soon on nutritional content of the various [RVM Dining Services] recipes. It won’t happen all at once as it is a labor-intensive process to go through the recipes.”
As an incompletely reformed chemist, I know that nutritional information on a recipe remains valid only if the recipe – and the food derived from it – doesn’t change. And from long and tedious experience, I know that people tend not to do labor-intensive things if they are going to have to do them over again real soon.
Conclusion – we’re on the cosmic food wheel, with identical meals cycling every six weeks into infinity. Even with my life expectancy, I expect to soon know the script by heart.
Existential Dilemma, horned
So what’s the dilemma? Well, when I came here I realized that RVM is one long continuum between a medium-high-end resort, with lots of recreational facilities and an extremely forbearing staff, and a nursing home with geezer-crossing signs and spiffy licensed facilities.
So, I happily positioned myself about halfway along the line and well off to one side, and set about enjoying all the diverse advantages. One of which was the resorters’ favorite indoor sport of reminiscing about how much better the food used to be. You see, the perceived decline was because of standardizing the menu to save money by making fixed orders of wholesale foods in advance, and then, of course, with all decisions already made you didn’t need such a skilled kitchen staff, and…
It was good rebellious fun. Almost as good as talking about religion and politics at the table. But the fates (who ride herd on dilemmas) were watching. And my cardiologist said my heart was wearing out and needed radically lower blood pressures, and that there was about 10% too much of me, and then the salt thing too. And my blood sugar kept creeping up and my endocrinologist said I couldn’t increase my metformin dose without risking very painful side effects. And then I realized, I NEED THAT DAMNED NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION! Pretty soon I’ll be eating whole plants.
I’m not off to the side of the continuum any more. And I’m sagging toward one end. And the fact that I use trekking poles instead of canes (so much more macho, don’t you think?) is not going to preserve my self-image. The dreaded horned dilemma has seen through it and is charging head-down, and I am somehow going to have to find a hobby more gratifying than cognitive dissonance. Or eating.
Is there any hope for novelty? Could Dining Services maybe have a Wild Card Special for the gamblers among us? Or a Russian Roulette Plate for those who just can’t take one | more | minute | of | moderation?
Well, that’s it. If you were expecting a neatly wrapped up story, tough. Just remember that you are in a CCRC. There is a moral here somewhere, but it’s up to the reader to figure out, since it will probably depend on location relative to the continuum. Or more likely, on the difference between perceived and actual locations. Bon appetit.
Salome Sato started something wonderful about three years ago. She created a registry for cat owners who were going on vacation and needed sitters for their babies. By the end of those three years, she had about 35 people on board. Some of them owned cats and wanted occasional help, some of them had cats and were willing to take in short-term boarders and some were just people who loved cats and were willing to cat-sit even though they no longer had a cat of their own.
