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The Tampa Bay area is chock full of senior citizens, and I have absolutely no problem with that. Really, I don’t.
On the contrary, I welcome golden agers from every midwestern auto-factory worker’s quilt-intensive guest bedroom, from every drafty pre-Eisenhower Bible Belt rooming house, from every smog-encircled New Jersey retirement facility to our sunny foyer to the afterlife with open arms. Come, I say. Come, bring your gigantic automobiles, your fixed incomes, your quaint little perspectives on exactly how and why we, your offspring, are sending this country straight to hell, your fear of all foreigners. There’s plenty of room – and if things start to get a little tight, some intrepid land baron will surely step in to raise a few more beachfront condos, or a spanking-new Post-Adult Care Complex.
Please, make yourselves at home. Don your wraparound cataract shades without a second thought. Relax, kick off your sandals, nay, even your black socks if you like. Lark your way into our stores and restaurants; your opinions regarding our selections and pricing are welcome. Feel free to tip as frugally as you see fit, and, by all means, pick a safe, comfortable velocity at which to navigate our flat, straight streets. Especially that last; I love to see an independent oldster out on the road, reinforcing his or her own manifest destiny without aid, speed, or vision. It gives me hope for my own sunset years, and often, after yielding abruptly to one of my elders and betters, I’ll give a cheerful toot of the horn, as if to say, “Bless you, sir or madam, and I hope you live for another hundred years!”
But alas, almost nobody lives to be two hundred.
Most of our burgeoning relocated-retiree population lend us a scant few years of their company, before tottering off to that Big Shuffleboard Court In The Sky. It’s a shame, really, that they couldn’t spend just a little more time with us. Not only for the additional wisdom we youngsters would undoubtedly gain, but also because I’m quite sure that, given ample opportunity, most aged transplants would use the extra time to give a little more back to the community which embraced them when they were most in need of a temperate place in which to run out the clock. They’d return our modest investments tenfold, they would.
Well, what if they could – posthumously?
With a bit of legislative tweaking, every latecomer to our shores could donate his or her earthly shell for service toward the good of our region.
Once they’re done with it, of course.
As most of you are aware, the Bay area is home to an inordinately large number of homeless people. Our mild winters, numerous overpasses, and scads of outdoor benches continuously attract a throng of those less fortunate, or more drunk, than the rest of us. These lost souls don’t know where the next quart of malt liquor is coming from; their endless forage for golden liquid warmth, and an unoccupied spot on that big circular planter outside Jannus Landing, leaves precious little time or change for the pursuit of more substantial nourishment. Caring residents do what they can, and are to be commended for their efforts. However, many still go hungry. There’s only so much to go around.
But if you consider the fact that a single cold snap could conceivably result in enough sustenance to quiet every grumbling homeless belly in the community for several weeks, the balance shifts in everyone’s favor. No vagrant would ever again remain unfed. And, beyond the obvious processing necessities, no additional expenditures would be necessary. There’s no need for cold storage; after all, there’s plenty more where that came from.
Once we, as a societal microcosm, overcome our silly primal inhibitions, our collective taboo reflex, I think we could discover a wide variety of beneficial uses for this highly specialized ‘resource’, above and beyond solving (once and for all!) the “Will Work For Food” conundrum. For instance, consider the revenues we could raise selling bait and chum to our local anglers, revenues which could be spent on education, housing, more processing facilities for a booming new local industry! Another benefit which springs immediately to mind might be the reclamation of acreage wasted on interment, land which could instead be earmarked for attractions such as golf courses and cut-rate pharmacies, thus increasing the influx of ‘resource’ and neatly closing Nature’s circle.
I admit, the concept is a bold one, not for the conservative, or those with less than an absolute zealotry for easing the plight of their fellow man. But can we afford to ignore such sweeping implications, once they have been recognized? Are you willing to turn a blind eye to such an obvious boon?
Hey, I’m just trying to do what I can.
And at the very least, it’s an idea.
Weakfish@compuserve.com
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