My parents moved to a community like that. It worked out okay because when they needed nursing care, the friends they'd made visited them. However, my mother didn't find it ideal. She found it depressing to be constantly reminded of death and infirmity. "Every time you look at the bulletin board there's a funeral announcement," she said. It was an old age ghetto without the poverty. She felt warehoused, although it was her choice to move there. They had a kitchen but they usually ate in the dining room where the food was terribly bland. Because my Dad had Alzheimer's, it was a good fit for their situation, but I know she would have preferred to stay in our home town where she was a well-known, loved and respected member of the community. Certain aspects of these communities are like being back in high school. You can't make all your own decisions and the social politics can be bruising.