What, Me Worry About Retirement?

     I remember back in the late 1970s when I interviewed for a job at the company where I eventually went to work, everyone there bragged to me about the great benefits that were offered. The company had its issues -- the office was out in the middle of nowhere, and the company wasn't considered the leader in its industry -- but the pay was pretty good. And there were those benefits.

     Honestly, at the time, I didn't give a hoot about the benefits. I needed a job! So okay, it was nice to have good medical insurance. But what did I care? I was young and healthy. And when you're 30, who even thinks about retirement? The idea was laughable to me.

     Then the years went by. And boy oh boy, by the time I left, I sure was happy that I'd been included in their great retirement package. To be honest, it wasn't as great as it had been, back in the 1970s and '80s; and I didn't get the whole package because I got laid off before I qualified for retirement. But still, it was a lot better than what I would have done on my own.

     Most young workers probably never think about retirement. It's such a vague notion, and so far off. People are focused on starting their careers; then starting families, buying a house, and buying things for their kids, and maybe opening up a college fund.

     Even if retirement does somehow make it onto your radar screen in your 30s or 40s, it's hard to save money when you have so many pressing immediate needs -- especially if you're trying to raise a family on $40K or $50K a year, as a lot of people are.

     When I started working, there was no such thing as an IRA or a 401K plan. Those saving plans at least do help people face the reality that there is such a thing as retirement in their future. Would it help if high schools and colleges required courses on personal finance, so people learn the skills necessary to save and invest for their future? It might. But not everyone has a "head" for money ... just like not everyone can draw, or play music, or are good at math.

     I know some friends and relatives -- people in their 50s and 60s -- who have absolutely no concept of how they will support themselves in retirement. They readily admit they have little to no financial knowledge, and no ability to make investment decisions. Some of these people -- those who are smart and realistic about it -- have hired a financial adviser to help them negotiate through the thicket of financial options. But finding an honest and upfront financial adviser is about as easy as finding a good car mechanic. Yes, they're out there; but they're hard to find.

     So what can we make of all this?

     Saving money is hard. So is eating your vegetables and doing your exercise. But we should all do it, one way or another. And if we don't, we're going to pay the price.

     Let's face it, investing your savings is not all that difficult. (You've heard of the low-cost index mutual fund, haven't you?). All you need is the ability to do math at about the 10th-grade level; along with some healthy skepticism about the advertising, marketing and salesmanship that you see on the subject. And there is plenty of material out there to help you get educated, starting with John Bogle. Nevertheless, some people are just not interested; or they have a blind spot about money. And so these people really should find themselves a good finance mechanic. (If they're lucky, they have one at their place of work, in the form of a good retirement program.)

     Also, just maybe it makes sense for some lower income people not to try to save too much for retirement . . . and not feel bad if they can't. If you're scraping by, living hand-to-mouth, when you're in your 40s, you'll probably be scraping by, living hand-to-mouth, when you're in your 70s.

    According to Social Security statistics, "among elderly Social Security beneficiaries, 53% of married couples and 74% of unmarried persons receive 50% or more of their income from Social Security." And "23% of married couples and about 46% of unmarried persons rely on Social Security for 90% or more of their income." 

     Does it help to try to make people feel guilty about it? Nobody ever promised that Social Security was going to afford us a comfortable retirement, just that it would keep a roof over our head and a meal on the table. We always knew if we wanted to travel, that would be on our own dime.
  
    Finally, while a lot of people brag and boast about being able to retire in their 50s, there's no reason why anyone should feel bad, or feel like a "failure" if they can't afford to retire at age 55 or 60, or 62, or even 66. My own dad worked until he was 72. He didn't suffer for it. I have some friends today who find it rewarding -- and who also gain some self-respect and direction in their lives -- while still working into their late 60s and early 70s, even if it's not a high-paying career-type job.

     I guess what I'm saying is, there seems to be so much pressure on us these days about retirement. Maybe because Baby Boomers are starting to retire, it's become a bigger subject, because everything Baby Boomers do becomes a bigger subject. But let's not have a heart attack about it.

Are You a Mark, or a Rob?

     In her book In the Woods, Tana French's main character, Detective Rob Ryan, comes upon an archeologist in the course of his investigation. The archeologist's name is Mark and he's young, well-educated and sure of himself. Rob admits that Mark makes him feel anxious and unwilling to cooperate. Why? Because, "men like him -- men who are obviously interested purely in what they think of other people, not in what other people think if them -- have always made me violently insecure."

     It made me wonder, is all the world divided into people like Mark, who are "interested purely in what they think of other people," and their opposite, people more like Rob who are interested in what other people think of them?

     It seems pretty clear that the author doesn't think too highly of the Marks of the world. If you're a Mark are you self-centered? Self-involved? Narcissistic?

     Well, I'm afraid, I'm a Mark. Not that I'm young, or so sure of myself, but I am more interested in what I think of other people, rather than what they think of me.

     Don't ask me why. I guess I was brought up that way. "You don't have to do what everyone else is doing," my dad used to drill into me. "If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you jump off a bridge too?"

     The message, to me, was always to think for yourself. Don't follow the crowd. Don't worry so much about what everyone else thinks. Be your own man.

     So I developed a perspective (or it was developed for me) that I think it is, in fact, self-indulgent to worry about what other people think of you. What makes you so sure that everyone else is thinking about you at all? Do you consider yourself so important that everyone else is critiquing your every move? And even if they are, does that matter so much in life? No! You should know your own mind and chart your own course, regardless of what anyone else believes.

     Of course, this attitude was tempered during my adolescent years, when I was trying to be cool. And a least one way to be cool is to mimick other people who are cool. Follow the trend. Get with the in-crowd, and stick closely to their mores and morals. Dress like everyone else. And above all, worry about what other people think of you, and your clothes, and your car and your house and your taste in music.

     Well, I'm not even sure if that's how you get to be cool. As I've posted before, I tried to be cool, but never quite made it, until I finally figured out in my maturity that trying to be cool is a really dumb thing to try to do. My attitude adjustment was aided by having two children, who never missed an opportunity to remind me that I am not, never was, and never will be cool. (Although last weekend I went to the Smorgasburg in Brooklyn -- how cool is that!).

     Anyway, I wonder who will admit to being a Mark, and if they're proud of it or ashamed of it. And who will say they're a Rob?

     In the end maybe it doesn't matter. After all, I'm interested purely about what I think of other people. And I ended up with B -- who I think is great! And she's the opposite: she worries much more about what other people think of her. And I think she's great!

     So we get along just fine.

What Am I Doing in the Garden?

     Is there any activity that you like to do, but you're just no good at? For me, it's gardening.

     I love being outdoors in the spring, breathing in the moist soft air, getting my hands dirty in the loamy soil, and dreaming about the flowers, vegetables and lush bushes that will soon adorn my property.

     So far this spring I've been out in the yard about a dozen times. I usually go for about two hours at a clip. I used to do more, but now my knees and my back will make me answer for any more work than that. Not to mention getting just totally exhausted if I do too much.

     But even as I've been digging and planting and fertilizing, I see how the weeds have already begun to encroach on my property. I have done some weeding. I pulled out probably a hundred dandelions (I actually like dandelions, except they do have a tendency to spread too much and too fast), as well as handfuls and handfuls of other Unidentified Weed-type Objects (UWOs).

     And that's what stops me. Right now the pretty green grass dominates the lawn. But I remember last year. In May my yard looked beautiful. By August it looked like a post-apocalyptic landscape choked with UWOs.

    There's no way to stop them, short of shooting Unidentified Spraying Liquids (USLs) equivalent to the entire annual production of Dow Chemical over your yard. And aside from my general concern with the environment, I have a well. I don't want to drink that stuff!

     Then there are the bugs. Again, I don't want to spray them with a tanker-load of USLs that the USDA probably outlawed in the 1970s after decimating the jungles of Vietnam. So I don't know what to do . . . other than watch the bugs wiggle and squirm along my plant leaves. I can almost hear them munching and belching and leaving their "trails" all over my yard.

     As if that's not enough, I have a woodchuck living under the shed. He (or she) is ready to pounce on any edible vegetable matter I try to grow on my little corner of earth. And the other day, when I cut the grass, I was reminded of the moles -- or whatever the heck they are -- that burrow through my lawn all spring, leaving the ground as bumpy as an old-fashioned washboard.

     I swear to you this happened: Last week I was bumping along so much, and so hard, I broke clear through the metal bar that holds the mowing deck on to my tractor. It's in the shop right now, getting fixed . . . resulting in a bill, no doubt, equivalent to the entire annual income of Dow Chemical.

     And yet, through all this -- the bugs, the animals, the UWOs -- my bushes and trees grow like they've tapped into some kind of underground radioactive fertilizing source. I can clip and prune with the best of them. Or so I think. But I know I am never ruthless enough. I can't bear to clip down as far as I'm supposed to go -- oh, that new growth looks so pretty, and so precious -- and so most of my bushes end up overgrown and leggy. Then they eventually get high enough that I can't even reach to trim the tops.

     Will this year finally be the year I break down and hire a lawn service? Most of my neighbors do (although not the fellow who lives directly across the street from me-- he's out there on a Saturday morning cutting the grass, just like a suburban dad is supposed to do!).

     I remember, back when I was younger and had a wife and family, and lived in a four-bedroom house on a nice suburban street, there was a woman who lived in the house down on the corner. I never met her. But many times I saw her out in her yard, cutting the grass and trimming her hedges, and I used to tease my wife about how that woman was a true feminist, and obviously a model wife and mother as well. (And I wonder why I got divorced?)

     Well, I haven't called the lawn service yet. I can't see paying $50 or $60 a pop, just to have someone mow the grass. Plus, that doesn't even cover all my UWO problems, and I know their only solution will be to spray enough USLs to turn my yard into the next Love Canal.

     So I'll go out there again (as soon as this horrid rainstorm that's been here for three days and left enough water to float Noah's Ark goes away) and try again. And I'll pretend I'm not the ancient Sisyphus pushing that boulder up the hill. I'm just your typical suburbanite trying to spruce up his yard.

     Besides . . . there are always the bulbs to plant in the fall.

No Sayings Like the Old Sayings

  
     I read a book last week called The Good Dream by Donna VanLiere. It's a novel about a single woman who rescues a boy who had been living in the hills with a mean old guy who wasn't even his father. It takes place in Kentucky, circa 1950, and the best thing about it is the old sayings the author sprinkles like corn seed throughout the story.

     Here are a few choice examples (some of which I've adapted slightly). Read 'em. They're a hoot!

     * It's so hot out my chickens are laying hard-boiled eggs.

     * Some land is so rocky and barren it's about as useful as a back pocket on a shirt.

     * It's so dry out that the trees are bribing the dogs.

     *My gallbladder shook I laughed so hard.

    * That boy's so dirty a worm crawling out of the earth is cleaner than he is.

     *She's so cantankerous she could start an argument in an empty house.

     * He's so lazy he doesn't buy anything with a handle because it could mean work.

     *  She's as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers.

     *  The boy was so dirty he smelled like the underside of a donkey's tail.

     * The man shook hands, pumping on my hand long enough for water to shoot out of my mouth.

     Yep, I liked some of those old sayings . . . better than ice cream on a hot summer day. Have you heard any good ones lately?

. . . And Two Thumbs Down

     I see the way kids are raised today. Honestly, it's not a whole lot different from the way we were raised -- maybe we've progressed a little. Most of the teens and 20-somethings I know aren't sneaking behind the garage to cop a cigarette, the way we were, and it truly seems that most of them watch less TV than we did.

     But there are two habits of theirs that drive me crazy.

     B's son comes over for dinner once every two weeks or so, depending on his schedule. It's good to see him, and it's nice that he still feels a connection strong enough with his mother that he makes the effort, even though he has a job, a girlfriend, his own friends and activities, his own apartment.

     But here's the thing. We're getting ready for dinner. B's preparing the food. I'm setting the table. And B's son sits at the table, completely ignoring us, tip tapping into his smart phone.

     We sit down for dinner. B asks a few questions of her son, who smiles and relates what he's been doing for the week, maybe a problem at work, or some friends he's seeing. And the conversation continues apace, until suddenly I notice that B and I talking together while her son is sitting there, looking down below the table, and again he's typing into his phone.

     His mother asks him politely to put his phone away, and he does, and the conversation goes on, until B and I are talking to each other again, and her son is back at his phone.

     Then he'll look up. "Oh, I have to go." He needs to meet someone, and get on the road for his next activity . . . having never really fully engaged in this current activity.

      I don't mean to pick on B's son. All the 20-somethings do it -- they give you half their attention, while the other half is focused on their phone or tablet, and some other conversation, some other activity, some other circle of friends.

     My sister was in town last week, and we went to a wine bar to listen to some live music. At one point I noticed that the singer was blasting away on his guitar, singing his heart out about a love gone bad, and half the audience was aglow in the reflected light of their cellphones -- giving the band just half their attention.

     So that's one thumb down. What's the other? A related issue.

     I'm supposed to pick up my daughter at the train. She's moving and is coming out to the house to leave some of the stuff from her old apartment in our basement. That's fine. The problem is that I can't pin her down as to when she's actually coming. First it was Wednesday night. Then she emailed me that she couldn't make it. She'd come Friday instead, sometime after she woke up; it wouldn't be too early because she'd be out late, but she'd call me from the train.

     Okay, I emailed back, but how about calling me when she woke up so she could give me a couple of hours notice, instead of a few minutes, so I could plan my day. I didn't want to have to sit around all afternoon waiting for her.

     So Friday comes. No call by 11 a.m. No call by 1 p.m. No call by 3 p.m. I had a repairman coming over to the house around 5 or 5:30, and I needed to be here to talk to him. I started worrying that I'd be out picking up my daughter at 5 p.m. So, finally, I call her. Of course, she doesn't answer. No 20-something answers their cellphone. I leave a message. Please get on the train by 4 p.m., so I can pick you up and get back to the house by 5 p.m.

     Finally, she calls back. She's on the train. She'll be here by 4:45. I rush over to the station, I'm back for the repairman, and we all have dinner together.

     But why can't a 20-something make a plan and stick to it? If everything is fluid, everything changeable, everything subject to last-minute updates via text message or facebook, then nobody else can make a plan for their day . . . they have to sit around and wait for you.

     Again, I don't mean to pick on my daughter. All the 20-somethings do it. They skip from place to place, always connected by phone, never making plans, just jumping from one activity to another. (According to the recent Time magazine story on Millennials, 70 percent of 20-somethings check their cellphones hourly, "interacting all day long by taking 'selfie' photos and seeking constant approval -- 'Someone liked my status update!'")

     Oh, I guess I do have one more thumb down. Kids! When we call you, answer the damn phone!

     In the meantime, say what you want about Paul Lynde (1926 - 1982) -- but the guy could be pretty hilarious, especially when talking about kids.