Walk into their pet shop, and you might not think of the Blausteins as the adventurous sort. But Abe, 71 and Gert, 68, owners of Zooish Conspiracy (specializing in anemic pets unlikely to startle Jewish owners) aren’t your average retirees. 

When Abe and Gert finally close up shop later this fall, they’ll retire like no one – certainly no elderly Jewish couple – ever has before:

The Blausteins are moving to Florida.

Deeper than the Deep South, beyond the civilized regions of the United States, lies Florida, a lawless, partially submerged wasteland long considered treacherous, if not outright hostile, to intelligent life. But the Blausteins aren’t fazed. Like Benjamin of Tudela before them, these fearless Jewish explorers have a thirst for adventure, whatever the risk.

“Oh, we’ve heard all about it,” laughs Abe. “The gators and snakes and voter suppression – everyone tells us stories, but it won’t scare us.”

Ask him why they chose a destination as lawless and unforgiving as Florida, and Abe grows contemplative:

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s my age, but something in me wants to go to Florida. The idea of seeing a trailer park destroyed by a weather event that just resonates with me. I know it doesn’t make much sense, but Gert and I have always marched to the beat of our own drum.”

Gert’s adventurous spirit was a surprise to her family, and it came from an unexpected source:

“Our grandson Danny is 19,” says Gert, “and he recently got a tattoo that says you only live once. We don’t much care for Danny, but I liked that idea. So when Abe said ‘Florida’, I said ‘sure!’ Why live in an old-age home? Let’s go somewhere different, somewhere new – somewhere we won’t be surrounded by other retired people all day!”

“I was in shock,” says daughter Hannah Blaustein-Dipietro. 

“It just goes to show you that parents are people, too, and as much as you try to stereotype them, they might decide to go skydiving, or take up parkour, or move to Florida for 22 weeks a year – and you just have to let them. I’m nervous, but I’m excited for them. My parents can take care of themselves.”

The Blausteins are no strangers to travel, having driven from their home in Winnipeg to Minneapolis on several occasions. 

“At the Mall of America, we didn’t write down where we parked – on purpose! That was a crazy weekend,” says Gert.

But the Mall of America may not have prepared them for what lies ahead. 

“Getting to Florida is trickier,” Abe admits. “South of Atlanta, people don’t support government spending on street signs, so you have to navigate by your wits. But we’re white, so we’re told it’s not dangerous to approach a police officer, so long as he’s sober.”

In researching their trip, the Blausteins found it hard to separate fact from fiction. “My friend Sylvia went in the early ’90s,” says Gert, “and she still talks about it – empty shopping malls, rampant crime, flip-flops as far as the eye can see. She once begged me not to go.”

Abe takes a different view. “Sylvia’s an idiot. Her husband was a hippie.”

Son-in-law Marc Dipietro is supportive of his in-laws’ plan: “I definitely think it’s the right decision, even though they’ll be far, far away from us for a long, long time. 

“I’ll definitely miss them,” says Marc. “The mandatory Friday night dinners, the unannounced visits, the detailed way they describe their personal hygiene. Family is a gift. I can’t stress enough how objective I’m being.”

As they make their final preparations – checklists, tune-ups, inoculations against paint fumes, Abe and Gert Blaustein contemplate the future. 

“It’s definitely going to be an adventure,” laughs Abe. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll run into another old Jewish couple down there. Anything can happen.”