FREE NEWSLETTER
I’m still at my vacation home, but the season is drawing to a close. The flock of summer visitors have flown back to the real world, to their bustling, busy lives. A vacation home is a funny old thing, isn’t it? A temporary nest for most, a place to perch for a week or two before the demands of reality call them back.
But there’s a small, peculiar flock of us who have decided to linger a little longer, notching up the months because we can. We’re all retired—a gentle, normal bunch of folks, still enjoying the quiet, lingering magic of the quieter season. I’ve gotten to know this little group, bumping into them on walks along the beach or cliffs, and stopping for a friendly chat while waiting to be served at the harbour bar. We all seem to share a common story.
Take “Bubbles,” for a simple example. Her interesting career was really a path toward a simple, comfortable retirement. While she worked hard, she worked even harder on her retirement hopes, saving for these very times to live a life by the sea and enjoy her favorite champagne—which, of course, is why we affectionately call her that.
Then there’s Allan, who loves to talk about his boat moored in the harbour. He’s cultivated a salty sea dog look—grey beard and all—but he cultivated his retirement by living below his means for years to enjoy that wonderful boat. I see it not as a sign of wealth, but as his reward for a life of prudence.
And what about Karen and Steve, who have one of the fancier homes? Surely this breaks the theme? Not at all. They bought the lot when our little area wasn’t very popular and prices were cheap, spending their weekends and vacation time for twenty years, remodeling their wonderful home into a peaceful heaven to enjoy their retirement dreams. Some might see a house of privilege, but I see a house built on hard work and delayed gratification.
So, if you ever find us at our little harbour bar hangout, don’t mistake us for the naturally privileged. We’re the product of dinners at home instead of fancy restaurants, past owners of cars so old they had a family name, and vacations postponed to claim a retirement dream. It was thrift stores and careful choices that propelled us to our coastal homes, where we now linger and enjoy the empty beach and salty air of the wild Atlantic swell.
Kiplinger recently published an article discussing efforts in Rhode Island to add a luxury tax on expensive vacation homes. It also discusses some other state’s efforts to raise money from second homes.
Can’t say I find this surprising. Tax the rich is really popular in some parts.
I could see this causing a decline in property values across the state (as the handful of truly rich will pay, but it would depress the demand from out of state people to maintain prices long term).
So weird that we have a housing crisis urged on by bad housing policy (rent stabilization and rent control) and places seem to think more bad policy is the answer.
It is entirely possible that the year round residents, especially ones who grew up there, would prefer fewer part timers.
No doubt that is true. I might think that way too, but the locals sure enjoy the economic value they gain even while complaining..
Chatham Mass used to be a fishing village, now it only survives on tourism and they keep building so as to destroy the environment that created the value of going there. There hasn’t been a year we don’t go up that another plot of land has been built on.