We’ve come full circle: playground to workplace, back to playground.
Having sold my business last year—one I owned for most of my adult life—and being theoretically “young” enough to fully enjoy the years ahead, I’ve been thinking a lot about the snowbird phenomenon.
Once upon a time, I viewed snowbirds with thinly veiled scorn. These unfaithful fleers of their hometowns who skedaddled to warmer climes at the first sign of winter? Wimps, I thought. In the Mid-Atlantic, we’re talking about a couple of months of discomfort and the occasional snowfall. This isn’t Minnesota, for Pete’s sake. Toughen up.
Then I hit my sixties (still painful to write), retired, and suddenly found myself with days full of options—and time. Lots of time. And with that time came a reconsideration of my harsh judgment of snowbirds past.
I want to play outside.
I want to walk my dog without worrying about black ice.
I want to sit in the sun and read a book.
So my husband and I discovered an over-55 community south of Tucson, Arizona, fell hard for it, and decided to spend a month there to see what we see.
What I see is the circle of life.
Not Simba and hyenas on the plains—but the quieter, more human circle: toddlerhood to adulthood and back again. In a good way.
This large community—filled with golf courses, pickleball, bocce and tennis courts, shuffleboard, billiards, card rooms, pools, colorful gyms, arts and crafts classes, and sing-alongs—feels a lot like early childhood. Structured play. Social opportunities. Purposefully filled days.
Leaving your family for the first time and going somewhere new where you have to meet new people and try new things?
Kindergarten = Retirement.
When, in adulthood, do you ever again have the chance to meet and potentially become friends with a whole slate of new people all at once? Unless you’re an extrovert on steroids, making new friends later in life can feel intimidating—even scary.
A small child walking up to another child on a playground and asking, “Wanna play?” is taking a real risk—open, vulnerable, and fully exposed to rejection. The same is true when striking up a conversation with strangers in a biking club or at the pickleball courts.
Research consistently shows that maintaining social connections as we age is one of the strongest predictors of happiness and health. These communities are a perfect testing ground for that theory.
And just like in preschool, some people thrive in the new environment—and some struggle.
As for us?
The jury is still out.
But one thing is clear: after decades of schedules, responsibilities, and grown-up seriousness, we’ve somehow landed back on the playground—older, maybe wiser, definitely creakier—but still learning how to raise our hands, introduce ourselves, and ask the most important question of all:
Wanna play?
