Your Top Priority

Early in my career, I had the privilege of attending a weekend-long men’s retreat in Wisconsin. This was back in the days of the “Wild Man” movement, popularized by Robert Bly’s book Iron John. Its premise was that men had lost touch with their inner mythological “Wildman” and were no longer being taught how to be men by their fathers.

Fortunately, there were no iPhones or handheld video cameras in those days. Yes, we put on war paint and beat drums around spectacular bonfires in the woods. We chanted and sang and shouted. We revealed our innermost feelings or admitted to having lost touch with them. I certainly wouldn’t want any of that archived on YouTube.

But all the fads and gimmickry aside, there were a few moments during that weekend that I have often thought about and related to others. They were transformative, touching, and deeply personal.

We sat in a circle, about twelve of us ranging in age from late twenties to mid-seventies. Our facilitator asked each of us in turn to tell the others about ourselves: our names, what we did for a living, how old we were, and what it felt like to be that age.

It quickly became apparent how powerfully men identify with their jobs. I don’t recall anyone declaring himself to be a father, husband, brother or son. We were all accountants, brokers, engineers, contractors and in one case, retired.

It was the retired gentleman, about age seventy, who departed from the litany of information we’d all been rattling off when it was his turn. He took a deep breath, slowly looked around at everyone and said,

“I retired not long ago from a company where I worked my whole life. I gave everything I had to that place, traveled heavily, and worked long hours. I missed my children growing up, all of those special moments…” and at this point, he began to sob, “…and that company has no use for me anymore. I can never get those times back.”

Looking at us through his tears, he pleaded, “Don’t let this happen to you. At the end of the day it’s just a job, or series of jobs, and it shouldn’t be your top priority.”

Silence followed, and the facilitator was as blown away by this confessional outpouring as the rest of us. He had been handed a gift by this participant, the intended icebreaker having become a natural transition to deeper topics.

I’m sure not everyone was moved in the same way. It’s not easy to abandon deeply held beliefs. In many cases, doing whatever is necessary to support a family. Remember, in 1990 there were fewer two-income couples, and the aging workforce had its roots in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. The times, they were a changing.

I was lucky to work for a company that has a vibrant retiree organization, with newsletters, activities, and regular meetings around the country. There is a definite sense of caring, that you still belong even after you’ve left the office.

Now, men and women are both challenged to remain engaged, productive, and valued but still a presence in the home, there for growing children and loving partners. And Covid has upset this already delicate dynamic.

There’s a wonderful quote from Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, in which Marley’s ghost laments to Scrooge, “…no space of regret can make amends for one life's opportunity misused!”

But we aren’t all shaken to our senses by a sobbing bundle of regret or a wandering disembodied spirit. If you don’t like where you’re heading, change something. Identify the one thing that means the most to you. Chasing two rabbits is a guarantee that you won’t catch either one.

😎

If you like fiction and you're in the mood for over 50 short stories, please consider buying "Natural Selections," at Amazon.com.

Or if you'd prefer seventy non-fiction stories inspired by a town in Illinois, please consider buying Park Ridge Memories also on Amazon. Click on the image below.

 

Can You Predict the Future?

My wife and I were lucky to retire a bit early. I understand that not everyone can. About two years into our five-year retirement plan, she developed an aneurysm that required brain surgery. Our priorities were rearranged overnight. Thankfully she fully recovered and no sooner had we retired than we were spouting the cliché, “I don’t know how I had time to work!”

 

It was not easy to leave our home of thirty-five years, our church, friends, family, and neighbors. But we did. We changed everything. And we visit them. They visit us. Some friends back north are still planning on thinking about doing something. They are either not ready, making “pre-tirement” changes, or have circumstances that prevent a major change. For some, the idea of a big change is paralyzing. 

 

A global pandemic is certainly a show-stopper, or an opportunity, depending on specifics. Job loss, illness, and many other factors routinely derail retirement. The current housing bubble and supply chain disruptions are having a major impact. And there are those who want to retire in place. In Illinois, that comes at a price. Following are some generalities I’ve come to believe. You likely disagree. This is intended to be a springboard for your own discussion and is written for those who have the means but may be delaying a decision.

 

Enough already! There is always risk, and as we age, I have found that many of our older friends and family seem to be stuck in place. I hear much rationalizing from them. The reality is that you get older every day and you are eventually going to die. Unless you have no interests, friends, imagination or the ability to explore, retirement is potentially one of the best times of your life. Why not enjoy as much of it as you can? 

 

Develop a concept of “enough” before entering the trap that has you saving “just a little bit more.” Financial planners routinely urge you to have at least two million investable dollars before even considering retirement. Of course they do! Those investable dollars generate fees. I have seen advisors use an actuarial table similar to those used by timeshare salesmen to make their case.

 

Have a purpose. Things to do are not a purpose. If you’ve become a human doing instead of a human being, work on that before you retire. If your job was your “purpose” you’ve allowed a necessary evil to get in the way of a wonderful opportunity. Retire to something. Don’t retire to nothing. That’s not life, it’s waiting to die. Oh, and that stamp collecting I’ve been putting off until retirement? Turns out, I don’t really like stamp collecting. You’re not going to be a different person when you arrive in retirement, but you will be a person with a greater, possibly scary amount of free time.

 

Don’t work unless you have fun at your job. Working is not retirement, but fun is always fun. The kinds of jobs available to people in their “golden years” can be low-paying, drudgery. Some joke about being a Walmart greeter someday. Is that really how you want to spend your time in this miraculous existence as the dominant life form on Earth? I know people who have a gift for making money. They turn to consulting. Again, that’s not retirement, but if you find you’re bored, you likely have skills that can be put to use. Volunteering can be a gratifying experience that allows you to make a difference in the lives of those you help.

 

If you can’t save more, spend less. Adjust your lifestyle and do what you might think to be impossible. Reduce from two cars to one. Two phones to one. Downsize your home. Sell all the junk cluttering that back room, attic, and garage. If you have a storage unit, shame on you! You’re what one friend calls a “three-quarter hoarder.” Dying with the most toys is still dying. You’re just leaving a mess for those who come next. That’s inconsiderate. Periodically assess budget line items like insurance, mortgage, and other semi-controllable items. Revisit them annually.

 

Take Social Security when it feels right. It’s money you deserve. You’ve been paying into the system your entire career. I know folks who obsess about the “break-even” period, optimizing the total return and the number of years it takes to get ahead as if they know how long they have. The next election, or the one after that, may be when the choice is modified or taken away from you. I once asked a recently retired acquaintance what he advised. He told me about a friend who delayed taking his Social Security to maximize the benefit. The friend died and never got a penny. As a result, my acquaintance took his early. Sadly, six months after he told me this story, he died of an illness undiagnosed as of the time we talked.

 

Budget, budget, budget. And by marking down everything you spend, I don’t mean documenting your failure. It takes at least one year to create a reality-based budget. Avoid categories like “Miscellaneous” or “Other.” They are budget-defeating black holes. If you have money, don’t be cheap. Frugality can become pathological. In the early years of your retirement, budget more for travel and entertainment. You’ll have plenty of time later to cut back. You only live once and things can change in a heartbeat!

 

Move and Purge. Sure, I know you love your house. You’ve lived there for a long time, or perhaps it was your family home. I broke down crying when I moved from the house where I grew up. But unless you’re going to be buried in the backyard, you’re going to leave eventually. You can always think of it as home. Moving is the most effective way to purge a lifetime of junk that has no meaning to anyone but you. Your kids don’t want your stuff. If you think they do, ask them while you’re still alive. You’ll most likely be disappointed. And if they want something, great, you get to experience the joy of giving while you’re here to appreciate a smile and a hug.

 

Make decisions! If you are comfortable only making one change at a time, do you plan to live to be 150? Sorry, but we don’t have time for linear decision-making. Parallel paths get more done in less time. You can do it. Don’t think of major life changes as disruptions. They are exciting and liberating!

 

Avoid “Vacation Syndrome” – You visited Florida and had a couple of drinks in a Tiki Bar. You can see spending every day like that. But now mow the lawn in August. Prepare for a hurricane. Listen to Jimmy Buffett until your ears bleed. Spend the entire summer inside because it’s as dauntingly uncomfortable as Minnesota in January. But being a Snowbird is not for everyone. It’s expensive and requires you to mentally live in two places at once unless you have extremely good caretakers at the other end. Using the Florida example, good help is maddeningly difficult to find, especially when they know you’re not around. If you’re lucky to know someone who made the move before you, ask lots of questions. In the case of southwest Florida, ask me.

 

Nothing is permanent. Go for it! Buy a home and move there. Carry a mortgage. Do you really want your life savings tied to an investment that can crash and burn as in 2008? Oh, you say, but look at what happened before and after! The reality is that homes are expensive, landlording can be a disappointing headache, and “past performance is no guarantee of future results.”

 

If it doesn’t work out, move again. Paralysis by analysis will only guarantee that you don’t move, don’t travel, don’t enjoy the earliest part of your remaining years, and get stuck in a rut until it’s legitimately too difficult to change. One couple we know, ages 71 and 76 are “thinking” about making a change in 5 years. Ever the indelicate one, I asked, “What do you think your lifespan is?” The move they’re considering should have been made ten years ago. It will be more difficult as time passes. They are in a house with steep stairs. Her knees and hips are giving out. I guess a tumble down a flight of stairs is a quick way to avoid planning for the future, but it’s kind of a drag, don’t you think?

😎

If you like fiction and you're in the mood for over 50 short stories, please consider buying "Natural Selections," at Amazon.com.

Or if you'd prefer seventy non-fiction stories inspired by a town in Illinois, please consider buying Park Ridge Memories also on Amazon. Click on the image below.

 

 

Heat Wave

Faceless voices and shadows outside the small room yield few clues as to the identity of his captors. When the door slams behind him he is naked, alone with his thoughts, a towel, one magazine, a dim overhead bulb and a crude wall-mounted thermometer. How long can he last before he breaks? The heat begins to rise. Better than waterboarding, he thinks.

One hundred and twenty degrees. Concentration becomes difficult. He pages through the magazine, a copy of Travel & Leisure. A cruel ploy, photos of exotic destinations, open spaces, and happy travelers, all reminders of his confinement in a four by-six-foot box. The heartbeat in his ears begins to pound.

 

One hundred and forty degrees. He attempts to add two 2-digit numbers. A test of his cognition. Sweat pours off his face, his arms, and down his shins. He hangs his head to keep the sweat out of his eyes. He gives up on the magazine when the glue binding melts, reducing the publication to a hundred loose pages. He tosses them aside.

To read the rest of this story and more than fifty others, please consider buying "Natural Selections," at Amazon.com.

😎

If you like fiction and you're in the mood for over 50 short stories, please consider buying "Natural Selections," at Amazon.com.

Or if you'd prefer seventy non-fiction stories inspired by a town in Illinois, please consider buying Park Ridge Memories also on Amazon. Click on the image below.

 

My Jungle Cruise

The year that Disneyland and I were both eleven years old I was blessed with a rare vacation from Illinois to California. It was the only one of its kind for our humble family, eagerly anticipated and long remembered. My parents were older, approaching their fifties in an era before health clubs and fitness crazes. They were old beyond their years and were utterly worn out by a long day in the Magic Kingdom.

Early in the afternoon, we headed for the Jungle Cruise, an attraction that was an engineering triumph in the mostly desert-like conditions of Anaheim. Our boat, an African Queen knockoff, was piloted through lush transplanted palm trees and tropical foliage along shores populated by animatronic beasts unlike any that had been seen before. Joking boat pilots recited from a scripted series of silly puns, real groaners, that have now become an expected feature of the decades-old attraction.

 

Modern park-goers continue to enjoy this adventure, albeit a culturally sanitized version devoid of racial stereotypes and cruelty that we never even questioned at the time. How the world has changed! But I’m here to confess my gratitude for having taken a cruise through the early Disney jungle as an uninformed child. I would cringe now were I to voyage deep into 1960s lore.

To read the rest of this story and more than seventy others, please consider buying Park Ridge Memories on Amazon. Click on the image below.

 

😎

If you like fiction and you're in the mood for over 50 short stories, please consider buying "Natural Selections," at Amazon.com.

Or if you'd prefer seventy non-fiction stories inspired by a town in Illinois, please consider buying Park Ridge Memories also on Amazon. Click on the image below.