There's No Place Like Home; Wherever that Is

by Chris Brady

Recent events have me pondering where I want to live when I grow down. I’ve loved my

Home for 30+ years, but maybe not for 40.

house since 1987, but I am so ready to punt yard work and cleaning 2-1/2 baths.

But where to next, I wonder?

My husband and I were thinking of selling and having no property.  We could be caretakers of fabulous second homes of the rich, like a Jackson Hole ranch or a Malibu beach house. 

A newsletter called “The Caretaker’s Gazette” lists these opportunities. It’s such fun reading about the homes, the exotic locales and the requirements. (That's the part that's not fun.)  I realized I would be trading my 2-1/2 baths to clean their 6 baths and horse stalls for the honor of having a free room with a view.

I think I’ll pass.

We wouldn’t want to move to a Florida/Arizona/North Carolina type of retirement community. My loved ones are mostly in PA, and living near family will always be at the top of my list.

And forget about a 55-plus community; I see those ads and shudder at the thought of living with people my own age in a sterile gated enclave.  “Who are they keeping out,” I wonder.

People like me, I surmise.

My favorite idea is to downsize to an apartment in Center City Philly.  It will be close to family, with everything I need in walking distance. I'll volunteer at museums and theaters for cheap and easy access to arts and culture. I'll have shopping and restaurants and people of all stripes and ages just outside my door. 

In my work exit strategy, I have about five years to plan for it, with a lot of stuff to move out.    

Anybody want a player piano and 200 rolls real cheap?

Have you made the move from your home to a new life somewhere? 

Are you thinking about one more move before the Big Chill?

Share your advice and experiences.

Enjoy my favorite song about house and home.  

Five Truths About Retirement

Carol Brill

Whether retirement is in your rear-view mirror, around the corner, or down the road a piece, I'm guessing the truths I've learned in my first seven weeks of retirement will ring true.

Truth # 1: Don't be fooled when they call retirement a transition.

The literature delicately refers to retirement as a transition. Translated into laymen's terms that means "you are in for a (gulp) major change!" After a career as a (fill in the blank)--H.R. Professional, Teacher, Waitress, Nurse, Account Rep, Coach--you are suddenly not THAT anymore. For me, letting go of an identity I valued and carried for years--even though it was often stressful-- left me feeling a vague, foggy sadness. I finally realized I was grieving. That unsettled me even more until I remembered that  grief is normal when we let go of something we care about. And, more importantly, letting go makes room for something new, and better, to grow.

Truth #2: Retirement brings a new absence of structure that may leave you feeling unmoored.

After 40 plus years of being tied to a job and showing up day after day, it's a dream come true to be free of corporate structure, endless meetings, finicky coworkers, long days, unpredictable commutes, and deadlines. Right?

Like me, you may be surprised when some days the absence of being tethered to a job leaves an uncomfortable gap, or you find yourself missing the security of a routine.

Don't get me wrong, it's wonderful wearing sweats everyday, eating breakfast at a table with Jim instead of scarfing a handful of Cheerios while driving, grocery shopping on Tuesday afternoon when the store is empty, staying home with a fire roaring in the fireplace on snow days.  Still, after years of back-to-back-to-back commitments, a totally blank calendar unnerved me. Scheduling periodic "dates" (that are not doctors appointments) with Jim and friends for lunch, walks, readings, art shows, visits, etc., has added just enough structure to help me feel connected and moored.

Truth #3: Time is different when you are retired.

For years, I belonged to a writing group comprised of a few retired guys and me. Week after week, I'd  show up with a newly drafted 8 or 10 page chapter, while the retired guys might bring a few new pages a couple of times a month. Once, I threw up my hands saying, "I don't understand how you guys don't have time to write. I work a 50+ hour day job and still find time to draft a new chapter every week."

With an insider's grin one of them said, "Time is different when you're retired. You'll see." Turns out, he was right. Time is different. Amazingly, having more time makes me selfishly selective and guarded about how I use it. It's as if my time belongs to me now in a way it never felt like it did before. I don't want to waste it multi-tasking, or over-committing, or pressured to hit deadlines. For the first time in forever, Type A++ over-achiever me relishes being a slacker.

For the last almost 20 years, being on vacation from my "day job" meant being able to be a writer "full-time" for a couple of weeks. Now, I find I want to really be OFF every day and do exactly what I most want to  do, even if that means ignoring my writing day after day to take walks on the beach with Jim. 

Truth #4 Retirement forces you to embrace getting older.

Jim and I have had the good fortune to take Florida winter vacations for enough years, that somewhere along the line, we grew old enough to have snowbird friends we look forward to seeing each March. A few years ago, I was only half-joking when I said to one of my Florida friends, "I have enough friends in Florida, I don't need any more." 

Just a few months later, Barb, my first Florida friend, died suddenly. Over the next 18 months, our circle lost Joe and Dave. When Ned, our friend and the owner of the property we rent, died this year on the day we arrived in Florida, it hit me. Whether in Cape May or Florida, I will never again have enough or too many friends.

My friends' deaths also forced me to accept that one of retirement's not so endearing aspects is that for my contemporaries and me, our line of defense is pretty much gone and we are next up to cross the finish line. Sure, that's the cycle of life, but when it's your team holding that line, it's sobering to realize, you have already lived the majority of your life and are on the back nine.

Truth # 5: Gratitude is a choice.

Meryl Streep says it so eloquently in the quote that opens this post. In retirement, like in all of life, we can choose whether or not to be grateful. We can choose to begrudge what we've given up, regret what we had hoped to accomplish and didn't, pine for the stuff we wanted and never acquired, wallow in missing loved ones. Or, we can hold close the family and friends we still have, relish our memories and keep friendships we've shared and lost alive in our hearts. Don't get me wrong, I know there are losses we never get over. Our difficult choice is whether we succumb completely to regret and sorrow or gratefully embrace life instead.

I'm with Meryl on this one. While, I know I'll continue to grieve and feel sadness, I can still choose to be grateful for each new day.

How about you? Whether retired or not, do you believe gratitude is a choice? And, do any of these truths ring true?

Counting on Affordable Care to Afford Early Retirement

Chris Brady

As I watched Congress teeter over the fiscal cliff this week, I wondered about my own financial future. Retirement is starting to creep into my worldview as a I fantasize about how I would spend my days without 2-hour commutes, spreadsheets and the drama of the corporate world.

I was counting on the Affordable Care Act as a way to accelerate my exit from the daily grind, softening the financial blow on health care coverage between now and Medicare.  And now, the Tea Party is set on killing the legislation. 

I have been surprised that people are against universal health care coverage. While the ACA has a lot of flaws because of the compromises it took to get passed, it was a start at something good. We'll fix the bugs over time and make it better.

And yes, we will pay higher taxes, and young, healthy people who are living without health coverage will have to start paying for it. It's much bigger than that, I know. But let’s be honest: everyone is an accident waiting to happen. We need a big pool of people to keep costs down. That's how the ACA will succeed.

A writer I know and her self-employed husband are paying $30,000 a year in health care coverage and expenses. Both have pre-existing conditions that aren’t covered.  She’s been one of those people jamming the website and the phone lines of the ACA since October 1, trying to replace her highway robbery coverage with a plan that actually covers their pre-existing conditions.

These two have professional salaries so that $30K hurts (a lot) but they're not starving. Think about working class people with families who don’t have employer coverage. It’s no wonder they can’t afford health care coverage.  But they are showing up in the ER. And as a society, we’re paying for it.

I'm lucky; I have had employer-paid coverage since my first part-time union job in 1972. Like most people today, I share in the cost of my employer coverage through premiums, deductibles and co-pays, but it's less than my cable bill. On my own, I’ll need  almost a mortgage payment to pay for healthcare coverage before I get to Medicare. That’s why I’m rooting for the ACA.                                                              

I am typing this post without the use of my left thumb, which I carelessly cut along with a wedge of cabbage in a soup-making binge on Sunday. It was a serious enough to seek help, and with stitches, tetanus shot, antibiotic, and urgent care center visit I will pay $300 out of pocket. This is the cost of care with insurance. 

Health care is expensive.  Everyone is a slip of a knife away from an urgent care visit, and a toss of the dice away from a catastrophic illness or a chronic conditions like asthma. And we are all at risk of losing our jobs and our health coverage.

The government shutdown and the debt ceiling drama are over – at least for a few more months. I’ll try not to look at my 401k during this economic roller coaster ride.  And hope that the ACA website is working by 2015. 

And I’ll skip the Martini when I’m chopping vegetables.

What are you thinking about the Affordable Care Act?  Does it worry you or give you hope?

Carol's 5 Stages of Early Retirement

Stage 1: Denial - On May 19th, when I received the "Early Retirement Pre-Offer Package" from my employer, I was so sure I was not interested in retiring that I almost did not open it. I had my beach bag packed and was half way out of the door when Jim brought in the chunky white envelop from the mailbox and waved it in the air.

Jim, "It's here!"

Me, "Just toss it on the kitchen counter."

Jim, "Don’t you want to open it?"

Me, "Maybe when I get back from the beach."

Jim, "You're not dying to see what it says?"

Me, "I am not going to retire so why bother?"

Stage 2: Anger - Why did I open it? How can they give us only 30 days to decide? What makes them think someone else can do my work after they kick me to the curb?

Stage 3: Bargaining - If I take it, could I stay through the fall? What if I could come back to do some consulting? If only I could get a part-time job. What would it be like to have more time with Jim and to write and publish my novels? Would more beach time this summer really be so bad?

Stage 4: Depression – Have I left a legacy, and if it is this easy for them to let me go, will anyone remember? How will I say goodbye to so many dear friends? Am I abandoning the people I coach? What is the point of going to meetings if I won't be here to see the results?

Stage 5: Acceptance – I think I can, I think I can.

My official retirement date is just 1 week away. The 3 months since opening that package and moving through denial to anger to bargaining went by in a blur. I still feel like I have one foot in the stage 4 sadness of letting go, but the other is pretty firmly planted in acceptance--And amazingly, anticipation, hope, and excitement, too.

It turns out I will not be a full time “housewife,” writer, and beach bum. By a fortuitous twist of fate, I have found what looks like the perfect part-time job in Organizational Development at another healthcare organization, as well as an opportunity to do contract teaching at my local community college.

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross may not have been thinking about early retirement when she developed her 5 stages of grief, but they are relevant to any significant change or adjustment. One thing I learned as I moved through the stages is that doing the hard work to pry myself open and let go leaves my hands and heart and soul open to embrace what comes next.

As I look ahead to next week, I know that I will have some "carry a tissue-box moments.” I hope I can let myself feel all of it and come out the other side with my palms wide open to the sunlight, ready to grasp what comes next.

Boomer Dilemma: Knowing When to Quit

Chris Brady

What will I do?  More winter walks on the beach.

I began writing this post on a Delta flight from Minneapolis to Philadelphia at 9:34 pm on a Friday night.  Every time I take one of these trips and find myself waiting hours in an airport I wonder “how much longer will I have to do this?” 

Carol’s post about taking early retirement has me pining for an escape. I don't hate my job. I thrive in it about 80 percent of the time.  But that 20% gap is getting harder to handle, not physically but more in terms of motivation.

Moving to another employer won’t make it better. And I’m not ready to have a complete work stoppage – as much for the social aspects of work as the financial.  The best reason for retiring would be to be with my husband Bernie, who has been retired for more than 20 years now, lucky guy.

My car pool partner is a GenX er who vents about baby boomers and the wreck we have made of the world.  She thinks we should step aside from our big bucks jobs to make way for the next generation.  We have friendly fights about this topic at least once a week. I think everyone has a right to keep working as long as they can perform.  But I agree that some people hang on too long. I hope I know when it’s time to go.

I am planning to live vicariously through Carol for a while. I’ll start taking the steps – figuring out my financial picture, getting a handle on my cost of living, and thinking about what I will do with all that time.  

How about you, dear readers?  If you’re a full time working boomer, are you ready to retire?

Do you feel heat from younger people at work to get out of the way?

If you’re a GenXer or younger, do you feel like boomers are sticking around too long?

Are you looking forward to retirement or dreading it?

Share your wisdom.

Me Go, Too

Most of you know that over the last 2 months, I have grappled with a big decision—early retirement—to go or not to go? Mary’s recent blog, http://www.4broadminds.blogspot.com/2012/07/dont-just-do-something-stand-there.html , reminded me: the answers to life’s tough decisions come from within, and sometimes you have to hit life’s pause button to listen to your soul.

If you are like me, you have envied friends who had the chance to early retire and have said things like, “I am so jealous. It’s a no-brainer. If they offer me early retirement, I am out of here.” So, it surprised me that my initial reaction to the offer was totally opposite: Forget it. I love my job. I am not ready to stop working. Absolutely no.

As an organizational development consultant and coach, my role is to ask others probing, powerful questions to help them find their way through change. Yet, faced with my own major life change, my first instinct was to ignore it. Could I summon the courage to hit that pause button and coach myself through those same difficult questions?  

The offer would expire in less than 30 days. The clock was ticking, and hard questions began to emerge. At the top of the list—is it even financially feasible? Crunching the numbers seemed daunting at first, but ultimately it was the easier part. More demanding were soul searching questions like: What have I accomplished in my career and is it enough? Can I find other ways to contribute? What is my legacy? How much is my self-worth tied to my job? What will it take to accept the possibility that I may never work or earn a paycheck again?

After considerable reflection (and a few margaritas) my answers became clear.

This early retirement offer perched me on the edge of a pool of possibilities. I read somewhere recently that it is hard to know how deep the water is until you dive in. I cannot say I am totally ready, but arms flapping, legs pumping, eyes and heart wide open, I am going to take that leap.

What Would Regis Do?

I had a weird and funny dream last night that Regis called to say how much he loves our blog. What was Regis Philbin doing in my dream?

Could the connection be that Regis recently retired and now my employer is offering an early retirement program and inconceivably, somewhere between rewriting my novels, prepping for my first ALS bike ride, and contemplating long board lessons, I grew old enough to qualify!

As a teen, I was fixated on my age, impatient to turn 16, then 18, then 21. Still single in my mid-twenties, I was constantly aware that the clock was ticking and I was behind schedule—unmarried, childless, renting instead of owning, trying on careers.

In my late twenties, I found my professional niche in Human Resources, fell in love and married Jim, and stopped measuring life’s progress chronologically. That is until a little over a year ago, when someone mentioned a retirement investing option, but you had to be 59 ½ to qualify. My immediate reaction was, “Well forget that, I am way too young.” 

And then it hit me— 59 ½ was only 3 months away!

I close my eyes and see the timid 18 year old who quit nursing school because no matter what I did, I could not take away a burn patient’s pain, the adventurous 20 year old who quit a promising job at the telephone company. Yep, back then there was only one—and I quit Bell Telephone not just once but twice—the first time to backpack through Europe and the second time to spend the summer at the shore. I can still see my Uncle Yatch’s bewildered expression when he said, “No one quits the phone company! They have the best pension plan.” Pension Plan?  I am not sure I even knew what that meant. I was 21, who cared?

The years rolled by —years filled with love and family and friends and losses and job changes and memories and achievements and lessons learned. So here I am at 60, qualifying for early retirement, yet in my heart and head most days I am still that tentative and inquisitive young girl.

Years ago, a co-worker named Mary Mac Donald gave me advice that has guided many decisions in my life, “You don’t need to make every decision as if it is for the rest of your life. You can always change your mind.”

I have quit jobs before, but the decision to stay or early retire feels like the exception to Mary’s rule.

So, what would Regis do?

Do you have any sage advice?