Back in January I offered to help out with our local library book sale, which is to take place in early April. So now, in March, I'm involved in my volunteer activity, which consists of writing up flyers, sending out notices to local organizations, printing up posters and signs, and planning out how we're going to set up tables and handle the money. In the meantime, we're advised to collect all the boxes we can, because after the sale is over we're going to have a lot of leftover books and we'll have to box them up and either give them away or throw them away.
So I've been prowling the liquor stores, asking for their empty boxes, and if you looked in my basement right now, and saw all those empty wine boxes and vodka boxes, you'd think I was a serious alcoholic.
Then when I got back from vacation, I received an email from an old colleague of mine, offering me a paying job to help out on a project. Deadline: April 1st. Most of my work is being done from home on my computer. But I did go into the office to consult for one morning, the first time I'd been in any kind of office in about two years.
It seemed very strange. I'd spent over 30 years in an office; the territory is very familiar; yet I've set foot in an office only about a dozen times in the last ten years. Even though I'd never been in this particular office before (but they all look the same, don't they?) it felt like it does when you go back to visit your old hometown and walk around the neighborhood and see your old house and check out your old haunts.
But actually, it was kind of fun to be in a real office -- you know the kind, private offices with glass walls around the perimeter of a big room with a bullpen of desks jammed up one against another. Kind of like the TV show "The Office."
It's also nice to have a paying job for a change. First of all, I could use a few thousand dollars, especially since the credit card bills will soon be coming in for my vacation out west. But then at one point I wondered: Am I trading a month of my life, just for a few thousand dollars? What kind of deal is that? But when I really considered it, I found it's a good feeling to be engaged in a specific assignment, working on a project that someone is actually willing to pay for -- you know, compared to volunteering at the library, or blogging.
So I'm pretty busy this month for a change -- after having done nothing but hang around since before Christmas, then go on vacation. The benefit to you: I have to keep my posts short.
It's a delicate balance, trying to work in retirement. You want some jobs, but then when you get them, you're not quite sure you're ready. Do you know what I mean?
By the way, remember the band Men at Work? I dunno what this song is about (maybe it's about drugs; wasn't everything, back in the '80s?), but I prefer to think what's knocking at my door is opportunity.
Recent reports tell us that the news on home sales is still bad ... but it is apparently getting a little better.
According to a report from the Associated Press, "In January sales of previously occupied homes reached their highest level in nearly two years, and they have risen more than 13 percent in the past six months."
The National Association of Realtors agrees, saying that in January sales rose for the third time in four months. The NAR also reports that existing home inventories have been trending down from their record high of 4.04 million in July 2007. Currently home listings stand at 2.31 million units, which is 20 percent below a year ago.
Lawrence Yun, NAR chief economist, said strong gains in contract activity in recent months show that buyers are responding to favorable market conditions. “The uptrend in home sales is in line with all of the underlying fundamentals – pent-up household formation, record-low mortgage interest rates, bargain home prices, sustained job creation and rising rents.”
Unfortunately, the average price of an existing home has fallen some 2 percent since last January. And so-called distressed homes -- ones in foreclosure, or short sales -- still comprised 35 percent of January 2012's home sales, down just a hair from 37 percent in January 2011.
I assume most people in our age bracket are more interested in selling their old home than in buying a new one. But, really, we only want to sell because we want to move ... and many might wonder, if I can sell my old house, should I buy another one, or just rent for a while?
So let's look at the idea of buying a home from a broader perspective.
Despite the bust of the last six years, most of us Baby Boomers have probably had good experiences owning our homes over the course of our lives.
For most of us -- and for our parents as well -- the rationale for owning our own home centered around the American dream, the white picket fence and the friendly neighbors. Owning a home placed you in a community, provided a school system for your kids, and gave your family a stable lifestyle. And in the long run, everyone told us, it was a good financial decision as well. The mortgage was tax deductible; your real-estate taxes were tax deductible; and over the years the value of your house would increase -- some years more than others, but except for a few brief recessionary periods, always on an upward trajectory. The rule of thumb was that is was better to own than to rent, as long as you were going to stay in the place for at least five years.
But that was then. What about now? Some people argue that owning a home is not all it's cut out to be, that people are better off renting. These days, it seems, people seem more interested in mobility than stability. They want to be able to retire to a warmer, less expensive place. But they can't sell their house. Or they want to be able to move somewhere else to take a better job. But their mortgage is under water. Meanwhile, local taxes keep going up, our utility bills keep going up, and the traffic just keep getting worse.
I saw a report of a single woman in her early 30s, making a pretty good salary, who wondered if she should buy her own townhouse. But she's worried. Maybe the prices will continue to drop and she'll lose her investment. Maybe she'd be better off putting her savings in the stock market, rather than making a down payment. She wondered why the upfront costs were so high -- not just the down payment, but the mortgage fees and the lawyer's fee and the transfer taxes. And then, even after spending all that, she'll have to pay taxes and insurance and condo fees and maintenance fees.
On the other hand, she feels like she's "throwing away" over $1000 a month to rent her current place. She's not building any equity; plus, the people in her complex tend to be transient. She admits she'd feel more comfortable if her neighbors stuck around for a while and she could get to know them. She also feels that, while it's nice that she doesn't have to worry about upkeep, the landlord often cuts corners on maintenance with a "quick fix." Plus, she feels like she'd like to "put her own stamp" on a place -- decorate the kitchen the way she'd like it, rather than the way the landlord has it. And she yearns to have walls that have some color to them, instead of the institutional white that's exactly the same no matter what apartment she lives in.
After a decade when it was cheaper to rent (purple) than buy (blue), things have evened out
This woman does have some decisions to make. We all do. How important it is to to be able to fix up a place the way you want it? And how long do you plan to stay there? Are you going to get married -- or sign up for independent living -- and want to move within the next year or two? Are you settled into a job, or are you going to change jobs, or retire, and to want to move across country next year?
Above all, the choice of whether to rent or buy is a lifestyle decision. What kind of home and neighborhood you want to live in, and how long are you going to stay there.
The New York Times offers a calculator that compares the costs of renting or buying a home. You plug in the price of the property, along with the taxes and your down payment and your mortgage rate, and compare it to the rent you'd have to pay for the same place. But as with any calculator, you have to make certain assumptions, chiefly about how much the property will appreciate over the years, and how much the rent will rise over the same period. (Who, in 2006, would have entered negative10 percent a year for the expected appreciation?)
But, to me, any calculation fails to answer an obvious question. How could it possibly be cheaper to rent than to buy? Somebody owns that property. They're not going to rent it to you for less than what it costs them. Sure, there might be a temporary situation, where the owner is stuck, and the renter can take advantage of the situation. But in general, if the owner couldn't rent it for more than what it costs ... why would anyone own it in the first place? You wouldn't do that, any more than you'd take a job where to have to pay to work, rather than get paid to work.
I did the calculations for my old condo, which I sold in 2007, and which I know now happens to be for rent. If I assume that the value of the property will go up at 2 percent a year, and the rent would increase at the same rate, then the line crosses at the five year mark. If someone is going to move in there and stay for more than five years, it's cheaper to own than to rent.
In other words, the new rule of thumb isn't any different from the old rule of thumb. But I'd just twist it around. Don't buy a house, or a condo, unless you're going to stay there for at least five years.
Last weekend, on the train ride home from New York City, B and I spent a good hour talking about end-of-life issues.
We'd gone to New York to see Wit, starring Cynthia Nixon, about a woman dying of cancer. You may have heard of it, since the play, written by Margaret Edson, was originally produced off-Broadway in the late 1990s and won the Pulitzer prize for drama in 1999. Then in 2001 HBO produced a TV movie of the play starring Emma Thompson.
Cynthia Nixon as Dr. Vivian Bearing
I'm not a true Cynthia Nixon fan. I saw a few episodes of "Sex and the City" and I've seen her in "The Big C" -- but I'm mesmerized by Laura Linney, not Cynthia Nixon.
Nevertheless, Nixon does an amazing job as Vivian Bearing, a woman with a PhD in English who specializes in John Donne (1572-1631), the poet famous for his lines: "Death, be not proud ..." The play chronicles Dr. Bearing's story, from a diagnosis of stage IV ovarian cancer ("there is no stage five") to her death. She embarks on her journey with no friends and no family, just her uncompromising academic standards. Along the way she meets her match in an equally impersonal and disinterested medical student, and in the end only finds some measure of solace in an unlikely companion.
The final moment of the play presents the audience with a brief nude scene, as Cynthia Nixon completely disrobes. But by that time, she has exposed such raw emotions, with such complete abandon, that the idea of nudity seems almost ... anticlimactic.
After the play was over, it was impossible not to discuss some of those end-of-life issues, including the "Do Not Resuscitate" option, and that's what B and I were talking about on the way home. B is all in favor of the DNR order and other health directives aimed at dying with dignity. She also has long-term-care insurance, a power of attorney, and some other health documents as well.
I'm not quite so organized. Nor am I quite so ready to look death square in the eye. Perhaps it's because B is more religious than I am, and a little more comfortable with the notion of death. I guess I would opt for a DNR order, if I really and truly knew I only had a few days to live, and I was in excruciating pain, and I knew there was no hope at all of recovery. In other words, I'll sign those papers when I get to be 90.
Coincidentally, author Ken Murray, a retired doctor, wrote an article appearing in The Wall Street Journal, "Why Doctors Die Differently." He reported that many doctors, who know all about the treatment options and have access to top medical care, often decide against undergoing cutting-edge medical procedures. They accept death, and instead go home to live out their lives as best they can and spend their last days with their loved ones.
"It's not something we like to talk about, but doctors die too," writes Dr. Murray. "What's unusual about them is not how much treatment they get compared with most Americans, but how little."
He cites the case of an orthopedist who found out he had pancreatic cancer. Instead of opting for aggressive treatment that would give him, at best, a 15% chance of surviving, with a poor quality of life, he focused on spending time with his family. And Murray cites the case of his own cousin, diagnosed with lung cancer. The cousin decided against radiation or chemotherapy, and instead spent the next eight months going to Disneyland and hanging out at home watching his favorite sports teams -- then dying peacefully in his sleep.
I remember by own dad, who died ten years ago at the age of 91. He'd developed shingles, and when he didn't get better the doctors found he had cancer in his bones, his lungs and everywhere else as well. The doctors were ready to give up on him -- after all, he was 90. But he wasn't ready to go. He wanted treatment. We got him to the hospital where he received some radiation therapy. No one ever said it would be a cure. But it did arrest the tumors for a while, and gave my dad an extra couple of months of relatively pain-free life -- which we all appreciated, my dad most of all.
There's no easy way to get out of this world. And if you think there is, go see Wit. The play will cure you of any illusions you have on that score. But I'm sure it would help if you have some control over the process, if there's a way to make death less painful and desperate.
I should go make out some health directives ... I really should.
So ... here's the John Donne sonnet which features prominently in Wit:
Death, be not proud
by John Donne
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
In March the Blogging Boomers come in like a lion. Not because of cold, unpleasant weather (although the Midwest has suffered deadly storms, and our hearts go out to the victims), but because more than ever the world hears the roar of the Baby Boomers. On serious subjects like Social Security, politics, taxes. And on no-less-serious subjects like shopping, dating, eating ... and laughing. The point is, every issue that affects America, affects Baby Boomers first and foremost.
What's a souq? It's a Middle Eastern open-air marketplace. And this week our blogger from across the seas, Arabian Tales and Other Adventures, takes us on a little tour of an exotic Dubai souq.
In 2010, one of our own made-in-America Baby Boomers up and moved to Dubai, in the United Arab Emirates, where her husband managed to get a job involved with a major airport expansion. Since then, she has been blogging about their adventures on the Arabian peninsula and beyond.
Dubai, she reports, has many amazing shopping venues, including a mall with an indoor skiing area. But she invites us to come with her and step back in time to explore the traditional Arab souqs. "Wander deeper," she says, "through the narrow alleyways that twist and turn." And, if you need a road map to find your way, join her at Dubai Souq Shopping.
Here at home, The Boomer Chronicles wonders what happens when a man who is a top executive at a Fortune 500 company suddenly finds himself out on the street. How does he deal with that kind of blow to his pride, his psyche -- and his wallet? For the answer check out How a Top Executive Recovered from His Firing. There's a little twist at the end, when you find out who this top executive is and what he did more than 40 years ago.
Meanwhile, the Midlife Crisis Queen offers us a couple of life lessons. One comes from what she learned from the Amish in The Power of Forgiveness. The other addresses the subject of Divorce and Forgiveness.
But, to look at the other side of that coin: Have you been thinking of dating online? If so, you might want to take some advice from one of our younger Boomers who publishes a site called The Art of Toad Kissing.
"Single Boomers beware," she says, "those younger love prospects may not be as exciting as they seem." On her blog, she continues her quest to Never Kiss Another Toad and warns us of the March Toad of the Month -- carefully advising us "how to recognize signs that he may be infesting our Loveseats."
In a remarkable instance of synchronicity, Boomer blogger Lucie, at Midlife Musings, reports this week on one of her early experiences with online dating -- and how she learned a lot more than she bargained for when as a mom of three teens, she took her first step out to a world she knew nothing about. Fortunately, she could laugh at her lack of finesse -- and is still having fun as she laughs her way through the Art of Toad Kissing.
And, on yet another subject, what's the latest trend in food preparation? The farm-to-table movement. So The Accidental Locavore has been trying to add more local foods to her family's diet, and she tells us how she recently shared a grass-fed cow from a beautiful nearby farm.
Compared to all these adventures, from local farm to exotic souq, my own recent postings seem pretty tame (more like a lamb than a lion, if you will). Still, you might want to check out my latest in the Remember Him/Her series, simply by scrolling down to the next item, or clicking on the link to see the other Remember Her? postings.
After watching the Academy Awards the other day, I was reminded of a quote from a woman:
"Sometimes I can't figure out designers. It's as if they flunked human anatomy."
Can you guess who said it?
She was a writer whose popularity crested in the 1970s and '80s, appearing on the cover of Time Magazine in 1984.
She started out writing a column for her high-school newspaper and also worked part time as a copy girl for the Dayton, Ohio, Herald, where she eventually got a chance to interview Shirley Temple for the paper. She went to Ohio University, but her material was rejected by the college newspaper and she did not do well in her classes. She left school after only one semester. Later, she enrolled at the University of Dayton, where she did write for the university paper and also met her future husband, who went on to become an educator and school supervisor.
She also once quipped: "Marriage has no guarantees. If that's what you're looking for go live with a car battery."
When doctors told the young couple they were unlikely to have a baby, they adopted a daughter. That was in 1953. Of course, two years later they had a biological son, and three years after that, in 1958, they had a second son.
Perhaps that in part gave thought to her warning: "Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died."
She devoted her life to her children and her home, as a garden-variety Ohio housewife. But she kept up her writing skills by occasionally publishing a column in the Dayton Shopping News.
As a mother, she noted, "One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child's name and how old he or she is."
And as a housewife she observed: "The odds of going to the store for a loaf of bread and coming out with only a loaf of bread are three billion to one."
In 1964 she began writing for the Kettering-Oakwood Times. The next year she moved to the Dayton Journal and started to write a weekly humor column. Before long, the column was picked up for syndication to other newspapers, under the title "At Wit's End."
Through her syndicated column, she grew to become a popular humorist around the country. She began giving lectures in cities where her column appeared, and then became a guest on Arthur Godfrey's radio show. In 1967 she published a book, a collection of her columns -- and ultimately she would go on to publish a dozen books. In 1976, she hit the national bestseller lists with The Grass Is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank and she followed that in 1978 with her even more popular If Life Is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits?
And speaking of food, she also advised: "Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart."
By 1978, some 900 newspapers were using her column -- and by now you know she's Erma Bombeck, right? -- and she was also writing for Good Housekeeping, Reader's Digest, Family Circle and Redbook. She moved to an upscale community outside of Phoenix, Ariz., and from there did brief commentaries for ABC's "Good Morning America." She also stepped forward as an advocate for women's rights, becoming involved in President Carter's Advisory Committee for Women and pushing for the Equal Rights Amendment.
Erma Bombeck had been diagnosed with an hereditary kidney disease when she was just 20 years old, but for years it didn't affect her health. In 1992, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and after that the kidney disease did catch up with her. In 1996, at the age of 69, she went to the hospital for a kidney transplant. She died three weeks later, on April 22, 1996.
But by then she'd lived a successful, fulfilling life and, as for any setback, she seemed to toss it off by responding: "If you can't make it better, you can laugh at it."
Then when I got back from vacation, I received an email from an old colleague of mine, offering me a paying job to help out on a project. Deadline: April 1st. Most of my work is being done from home on my computer. But I did go into the office to consult for one morning, the first time I'd been in any kind of office in about two years.
