As a baby boomer, I find myself with an increasing number of relatives, friends, and co-workers who have retired, are about to retire, or are counting the (relatively short) number of days until they retire. Many of these people are about my age, have a similar work history, and made better financial choices in their 20’sand 30’s than I did. So they are retiring earlier than I will.
Under current Social Security Administration rules, I’m eligible for full retirement at age 66, which comes in the middle of the year 2019. So January 1, 2020 may be the beginning of the first full year of my retirement.
I say “may be” instead of “will be” due to an odd mix of what I would characterize as optimistic and pessimistic assumptions. On the optimistic side, I assume that I’ll be healthy enough to continue working until age 66 and that the economy will hang in there so that I can continue working. On the pessimistic side, I assume that I will need to continue working until age 66 with no lottery wins, unexpected inheritances, or killings in the stock market in my future.
Part of me rebels against the idea of just hanging on to my job for a dozen more years so that I can have a good retirement income. Twelve years is a long time – it’s three presidential terms, it’s the time it takes to go from first grade to high school graduation, it’s the average life span for a cat or dog. Twelve years is also a short time – we can all remember when Clinton was President, when the export of British beef was banned due to mad cow disease, when Prince Charles and Diana were divorced.
In an attempt to make the next 12 years more satisfying than the last 12 years, I’ve been working through Martha Beck’s Finding Your Own North Star: claiming the life you were meant to live. And I’ve been doing it as part of a workshop conducted by Pamela Slim, a life coach who first came to my attention through her wonderful blog “Escape From Cubicle Nation.” I’m not at all sure that we somehow have a particular path in life that we are supposed to fulfill, but I do believe that thinking about how I’d like to make my living until 2020 and doing some planning around the options is time well spent.
But I approach this planning was a certain humility born of my long experience as a poor forecaster of my own life. In 1996 I certainly did not expect that in 2008 I would have my current job, be living in my current city, be struggling to learn flamenco guitar, or be blogging on Open Salon, to name just a few surprises. On the other hand, I’m not surprised that I still enjoy Japanese movies, that I have the same wonderful wife, and that I still spend too much time reading. I don’t think that in 1996 I would have been surprised to see Biden and McCain running for office in 2008, but Obama and Palin?!
How about you – how clear is your crystal ball? What were you doing in 1996? Could you have predicted what you’re doing now? And what do you think you’ll be doing in 2020?
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I worked for the same employer for 21 years, and became an expert in several areas of the business that were critical to my employer. Then three years ago during a small budget crunch I got laid off. They got rid of me like yesterday's newspaper. Projects that a day before were "mission critical" were somehow no longer needed. Four months later my old job was reposted with the same job duties and experience requirements but advertised as an "entry-level" position.
Some years ago I became aware of Joseph Campbell's idea of "follow your bliss." I always had a kind of dumbed-down version of "bliss." Bliss to me was having clothing, food, and shelter. In following that "bliss" I ended up punching the time clock, trading time for money, which I continue to do today. Campbell's idea of "bliss" was much different, and I guess if you come from a rich family and are a genius then your bliss can be a little more upscale.
What will I do in 2020? Try to eat, and stay warm. By then most of us will have our retirements wiped out in the stock market or by inflation, much of the equity in our houses will be gone, and whatever is left will be consumed by medical bills.
So in 2020, if you see an old ugly guy with long unkempt hair and tattered clothes playing guitar on the street for pocket change, and sleeping at night on a piece of cardboard, pause for a moment and say hello. That's me. And drop a buck in my guitar case. That's my retirement. Welcome to "bliss," the 2020 version.
Mishima - I'll be sure to drop $5 in your guitar case - with inflation growing over the next 12 years that should be about the same as $1 now.
What will I be doing in 2020? Probably pretty much the same thing. But I've never been good at looking into the future.