Tag Archives: retirement

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Growing old is turning out OK … so far

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

The older I get the more I learn about myself.

One of things I am learning is how adaptable I have become. Actually, I’ve know about the adaptability for some time. My family and I moved from Oregon — where I grew up and spent most of my first 34 years on Earth — to Texas. I adapted just fine.

My journalism career brought tremendous change over the course of 37 years. In August 2012, when I started sensing my days were numbered at the Amarillo Globe-News, where I worked for more than 17 years, I fell back on my last line of defense in an effort to keep my job in the face of a reorganization scheme. I told my employer: “You’re asking me to make changes in the way I do things. Well, my craft today bears next to zero resemblance to what it was when I began, so the changes you’re asking me to make amount to a tiny fraction of the change I’ve already gone through.”

That pitch didn’t work. They assigned my duties to someone else and I walked away.

Adaptability: That’s my middle name, yes?

Well, I have found a whole new world of new things to which I can adapt.

I’m still writing. This blog is one outlet. I also am writing for Panhandle PBS — the Amarillo College-based public TV station formerly known as KACV-TV. I blog about public affairs programming: PBS documentaries, news specials, Panhandle PBS’s “Live Here” public affairs program. It’s a blast, man. I’ve taken on another writing assignment, for KFDA-NewsChannel 10. I write for the station’s website — newschannel10.com — and they use those news stories as the basis for weekly on-air broadcasts. That, too, is big-time hoot.

Now I’m taking on another task. Let’s call it “managing editor in absentia” for the Quay County Sun in Tucumcari, N.M. I’ve been asked to assist in producing the paper each week — from my home, using my laptop, cell phone and e-mail communication with a reporter who’ll produce the text. I’ve implored my friend, David Stevens — who works as executive editor  for the parent company that also publishes daily papers in Clovis and Portales, N.M. — to please keep looking aggressively for a permanent managing editor. He assures me he will.

But you see, what I’ve discovered is that there really is a market out there for old guys with (lots of) gray in their hair.

I still am looking forward to retirement, although it’s looking less likely that I’m a candidate for The Pasture any time soon.

My wife and I still have plans — eventually — to relocate closer to our granddaughter and her parents, who live just a bit north of Dallas. I hope to take much of my work with me, if it’s possible. The Internet Age has made that kind of transition available, even to old guys like me.

They have that saying about hindsight’s perfect vision. Our foresight remains quite fuzzy.

Neither my wife nor I ever could have imagined this stage of our life together turning out this way.

Hey, everyone needs some surprises in life.

Adaptability makes it easier to cope with them when they show up.

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Will there be enough time for retirement?

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

My sister and brother-in-law are visiting us for a few days.

They are retired. As in fully retired and they keep telling us how busy they’ve been doing this and that — on their own time and at their own pace.

I remain anxious for the day when my wife and I, too, can join the Corps of Retired Citizens. I’m not there yet.

You see, I’ve got these three part-time jobs that keep me busy enough as it is. Two of them are writing gigs: one is for Panhandle PBS and the other is for Amarillo’s CBS affiliate, NewsChannel 10. The third one takes me out of the house for a few hours weekly at Street Toyota.

We went to church this morning and sis I introduced sis to a friend of mine. She asked him what he did for a living. He said he’s retired and then noted how much fun it has been. Why? He’s so busy these days. Sis and my friend, Stan, traded quips about wondering how they had time to work back when they were drawing regular paychecks.

My wife and I are biding our time. We remain in quite a good place at the moment. I learned quickly more than two years ago, when my career came to an end, that life really does produce new beginnings. I’ve found them and my wife and I are reaping their reward. It comes in the form of a life relieved of much of the stress associated with full time employment obligations.

The prospect of full-time retirement keeps inching closer. I don’t know yet when it will arrive.

I understand completely that I’ll recognize the moment when it arrives.

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First big RV trip: a rousing success

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

We can declare our first-ever multi-state, multi-day trip in our recreational vehicle to be a success.

And a rousing one at that.

We shoved off from Amarillo the morning of March 21 and arrived back home just yesterday. Our travel took us to Mesa, Ariz., where we met up with my sister and brother-in-law, who had driven their RV from just north of Vancouver, Wash.

We had a serious blast with them, enjoying the sunshine, a bit of fellowship with fellow RV owners encamped at the park in Mesa and visiting with our aunt and uncle, who live about an hour’s drive south of the Phoenix area.

Except for a couple of mechanical issues we’re going to resolve with the folks who sold us our fifth wheel, our trip began and ended well for us.

But we did learn a valuable lesson while towing our 28-foot RV: Do not venture somewhere until you know for certain whether you can be comfortable getting there — and then coming back out.

We pulled out of the RV park Friday morning to start our trip home, but then we decided to take a gander at an attraction called Tortilla Flats, about 25 miles or so northeast of Mesa along an Arizona state highway. We looked at our map and assumed we could keep on going to a more significant highway once we finished visiting the attraction, which was billed as a replica of a ghost town.

You know what they say about assuming … yes?

Tortilla Flats sits along a very narrow road, with plenty of curves, switchbacks and, I should add, some seemingly harrowing areas. We hauled our fifth wheel through and along all of it en route to Tortilla Flats. For a bit of the trip in there, the road was bordered on side by rocky cliffs and the other side by, well, a serious drop-off into a bright blue lake full of boaters and kayakers.

I had a nightmare scenario of getting the fifth wheel too close to the edge and being pulled into the drink backward by the plummeting RV.

We got there just fine, but then learned that getting out would present a bit of a challenge. The paved road became an unpaved road once we got past Tortilla Flats. We were advised by a young restaurant waitress that we should just go back the way we came in.

Well, OK. But to get turned around, we had to take the RV up a dirt hill, onto a parking area and get it pointed in the right direction for the return trip back to Apache Junction. It required us to back the thing up.

We sized up our turning area and decided we could get the truck and the RV lined up to back up in a straight line enough to get it turned toward the right direction.

So … we did.

And out we came. Back to Apache Junction, back to the main highway and off toward Payson, Holbrook and then on to Gallup. N.M., for a night’s stay.

We breezed home along Interstate 40 the next day.

All is good. Our fifth wheel has been cleaned of the bugs that splattered it on the way to Mesa.

Once we get the mechanical issues resolved, we’ll be ready to ride.

 

local news

Blog starting to get traction

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Blogging has become something of an addiction for me.

No, I don’t need an intervention. It is a way for me to continue doing what I have loved doing for nearly 40 years, which is to string words into sentences, and sentences into paragraphs and paragraphs into essays.

I do this because it makes me happy.

My daily journalism career ended in August 2012, but I’ve continued writing.

High Plains Blogger has been my release of sorts. I am happy to report some good news regarding this blog.

I have just set my sixth consecutive monthly record for page views and unique visitors. The previous record, incidentally, came in January — which has 31 days; February, of course, has just 28 days, but another record fell this month anyway. I feel like sharing that with those of you who follow the blog, are kind enough to read it and some of whom are kind enough — or angry enough — to provide responses to the opinions expressed on this blog.

Are my numbers great? I don’t consider them great. Some of my friends also have longstanding blogs and they report the number of daily “hits” that far exceed my relatively meager totals.

That’s the bad news. The good news? Well, my blog’s monthly totals have grown more than 200 percent since I moved the blog onto this Word Press server in July 2013. The way I figure it, if it grows another 200 percent of so in the next 18 months, then we’ll be talking about some serious numbers.

Several aspects about the blog’s growth intrigue me. The blog hits are coming from all around the globe. Readers from virtually all of Latin America have looked at the blog. Asia — from the Middle East to the Orient — is filled in with hits, along with Europe. And just recently, viewers in Africa have been looking at the blog.

Those who read the blog know that it’s mostly political, looking at issues from a center-left perspective. I seek to veer from the humdrum of politics on occasion to talk about family matters and to look ahead to the day my wife and I retire fully and we hit the road in our recreational vehicle.

The blog has given me joy in writing it. I don’t expect it to be a joyful experience for everyone who reads it, given that not everyone agrees with my world view. That’s all right, as long as folks remain engaged.

Thank you for reading High Plains Blogger. It’s been a hoot.

Much more is on its way.

 

 

 

 

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Overseas travel awaits

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

You’ve heard about my plans to travel in a recreational vehicle with my wife throughout North America.

That’ll happen in due course. Some of it’s happening now as we take our fifth wheel out for long-weekend excursions. Retirement beckons. It’s coming closer every day and soon enough we’ll be free to hit the road.

However, we have some places we intend to see abroad as well.

My wife and I have compiled an official list of places we intend to visit once we decide we’re tired of working. More or less in order of preference, but not entirely so, here they are:

Australia: Neither of us has been close to the Down Under continent yet. I’ve been to Southeast Asia a time or three over the years. My wife has been to Taiwan twice with me. Australia is calling our name.

We have been communicating with a friend in Adelaide ever since we met this individual on another trip, in 2000, to Greece. We’ve indicated our desire to see him. He is receptive to our visiting him in the state of South Australia.

My fascination with Australia goes back to when I was about 13. My dad was entertaining a job opportunity in the coastal town of Rockhampton, between Sydney and Brisbane. I studied all I could then about Australia, anticipating a huge move. Dad didn’t pursue the opportunity. We stayed put. My interest in Australia, though, has remained high.

My wife has agreed that Australia should be at or near the top of our foreign destinations when the time arrives.

Greece: We’ve been there twice together already, in 2000 and 2001. I returned a third time in 2003. It is the land of my ancestors. My wife fell in love deeply with Greece almost from the moment we landed in Athens.

She has told me on more than one occasion: “Of all the places we’ve seen this is the one place I could return to again and again.”

It is magic. The scenic splendor is breathtaking. The antiquities are staggering. The people are charming.

We’re going back.

Israel: We’ve been there as well. We spent a week in the Holy Land after I had spent four weeks there leading a Rotary International Group Study Exchange. We stayed in Jerusalem and saw quite a few holy sites during our time together there.

We were unable to see a lot of other sites. We didn’t get to Galilee. We saw only a small part of Bethlehem. There were many other sites we left unseen. Time wouldn’t allow it.

Germany: Four years ago on a tour of Taiwan, I met a young journalist who lives in Bavaria, which I call “the pretty part of Germany.” He and I struck up an immediate friendship. We communicate regularly. He has invited us to visit him and his young family. Oh, how I want to see the mountainous region of southern Germany. We’ll get there.

Africa: I’ve long had a fascination with the wildlife of Africa. I want to shoot some of it — with a camera. The idea of a photo safari sounds like more fun than I deserve.

The Netherlands: The trip to Israel five years included my making some friends from The Netherlands. They traveled with our Rotary group. One of the Dutch group and I have remained in contact in the years since then and he, too, has extended the invitation for my wife and me to visit him there. How can I say “no” at the chance of seeing such a spectacular region of Europe?

We’re not yet ready to quit working. Indeed, I intend to keep writing for as long as I am drawing a breath.

It’s a big world out there and we’re excited about seeing more of it.

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Weird feeling takes hold as milestone approaches

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

A strange feeling is beginning to settle in.

My 65th birthday is just a few days away. I’ve been enjoying telling folks my age, which I usually declare by saying something like, “I’m about to turn 65.” I haven’t been mentioning that I’m still just 64.

Why the weird feeling? Growing up, I always considered 65 to be the retirement year. That’s when you tell your boss, “You know, I think I’m going to call it a career. Here’s my letter of resignation. The ‘Golden Years’ await.”

Well, the landmark birthday is coming up, but I’m not yet ready to call it quits.

I can’t quite grasp the thrill I’m feeling, though, of passing through this portal.

I’ve lived longer than both of my parents; Dad died at 59, Mom at 61. That fact, by itself, is a bit of a mind-blower. One of my sisters has crossed that threshold, too. My other — much younger — sister will get there in due course and she’s just two years away from passing Dad’s length of time on this Earth.

At this age, I find myself counting my blessings. That’s natural, I guess, although I’ve never asked any of my elderly friends whether that’s what they do. I’ll assume that’s the case.

I’m blessed with excellent health; for that matter, so is my wife — and that makes impending retirement even more exciting, as we hope to take our healthy selves on the road all across North America.

Of course, I’m not naïve about one’s physical health. I understand fully that it can go south without warning, instantly. Yes, it happens at any age, but the frequency of that occurrence is more pronounced the older one gets.

Perhaps that’s a symptom of the weirdness I’m feeling these days. Am I afraid of growing more frail and susceptible to Father Time’s way of upsetting one’s life plans?

I’ll just set that fear aside. Perhaps the best approach is to follow the dictum set forth in the film “Dead Poets Society.” Robin Williams’s character told his young students to “seize the day” and to live every moment as if it’s your last.

Retirement is inching closer. I’ll be ready when it arrives.

 

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The older I get, the more I sound like Dad

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

“I keep opening my mouth and my mother keeps coming out.”

I saw that saying once and laughed when I heard it. I never thought I’d be living it.

What do I mean? Well, my father had this habit of adding years to his life. It seems that whenever he celebrated a birthday he would start referencing his next birthday whenever the question of his age came up. The next-year reference wouldn’t start on the day of his birthday, but it would commence about a week or two, maybe a month later.

I’m not making this up.

Dad died just a bit past his 59th birthday, on Sept. 7, 1980.

I’ve since gone a good bit past that point in my own life. I’m 64, about to turn 65.

And what I’ve discovered myself doing is referencing my next birthday.

I don’t say that I’m 65. Instead, I usually say, “I am going to be 65 in December.” I’ve been saying that since, oh, this past June.

Why am I sounding a bit like my father? It might have something to do with the anticipation I’m feeling toward retirement.

I become eligible for Medicare benefits when I turn 65. I’ll start collecting a small pension from a previous employer effective on my 65th birthday. I’ll become fully vested in Social Security when I turn 66, so that date is looming quite large as well.

As for Medicare, I learned some time ago that my Veteran Administration health care enrollment makes it unnecessary for me to sign up for any of the supplemental coverage that Medicare offers — and I had that notion reaffirmed by a friend of mine who works extensively with elderly medical patients.

It’s not a bad thing that I’m sounding more like my father. He was a good man with a fairly compelling and outsized personality.

Perhaps I should take some advice that my mother offered many years ago. I’d say “I can’t wait” for something to happen, or “I wish it was the weekend.”

Her response: Don’t wish your life away.

The older I get and the closer I get to retirement, Mom’s advice is coming in loud and clear.

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Keeping it simple with Medicare

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This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

I knew this day was coming. Finally, I took the leap.

Health insurance providers have been bombarding me with reminders that my date with Medicare destiny is approaching. I’d been setting those mailings aside. Today, however, I decided to do the inevitable.

I made my initial application for Medicare.

There’s good news to report. The website is surprisingly easy to navigate. I called up Medicare.gov and went to the link that connected me to the application process. I filled out several pages of questions. I previewed them. I printed them out. I received an email alert from Medicare telling me my application had been received. I was informed that I could get the “status” of my application after five business days.

I’ll do so at the end of the week.

I turn 65 in December. I’ll be qualified to receive the so-called “free” health coverage provided by the federal government. Of course, I don’t consider it a freebie. I consider it a prepaid benefit, just as my veterans benefit was paid by my service in the U.S. Army for two years from 1968 until 1970.

I’m trying like the dickens to keep it as simple as possible. I’m not yet sure how many “parts” I’ll sign up for. I’m not even sure I understand what all the parts — Part A, B, C, D … whatever — actually mean.

I was advised by someone in the know that since I had signed up with the Veterans Administration health care system, I likely might not need to enroll in many Medicare supplemental programs. I’ll try to keep it simple as this application process moves forward.

This is a curiously exciting time in my life. My wife and I are living a good life these days. We’re both free of much of the daily pressure of working full time every day. I’m working at two part-time jobs that give me plenty of time to spend on this blog, which I’m enjoying immensely.

Our sons are successful. Our health is good.

What’s more, I’ve now begun the process of joining a federal health program that once had as many critics as, say, the Affordable Care Act. It’s working well now.

Count me in.

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Medicare info overflows from my mailbox

This is another in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

My 65th birthday looms just a few months down the road.

Someone must have ratted me out to every health insurance company on the planet. Nearly every single day our mail box contains something from someone telling me about my Medicare options when I hit that magic number.

Maybe I should send them all return slips telling them “Stop sending me these mailers.”

Would they heed my command? I doubt it. Strongly.

They’ll keep coming.

Here’s the latest on my Medicare sign-up planning: I have given it hardly a thought.

Medicare was that genius legislation cooked up during the Lyndon Johnson administration. President Johnson signed the Medicare bill into law in 1965. Unlike the hassling and haggling over the Affordable Care Act, there was little overt opposition to the then-new law when the president signed it.

Yes, they tweaked the provisions within the Medicare program once they figured out how to solve the problems. They didn’t toss it all out and start over, which is what many ACA critics keep insisting must be done now. To borrow a phrase from Col. Sherman T. Potter: buffalo bagels!

Medicare is still a seemingly complicated matter. My mother-in-law is on it and my intrepid wife is forced on occasion to sort out some kind of issue with it as it relates to her mother’s health care.

You’ve got parts A, B and D. I think that’s it. Whatever happened to Part C? Maybe it’s part of the pile of mailings I’ve gotten, but have just missed it.

Someone advised me once that my Veterans Administration health care coverage — which, of course, is prepaid — would be sufficient, that I wouldn’t need to mess with Medicare.

I’ll get to poring through the Medicare mailings eventually. Maybe I’ll decide on a plan to cover me in case I get sick.

It can wait. All these mailers make my head hurt.

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Oh man, that's eatin'

This is the latest in an occasional series of blog posts commenting on impending retirement.

The late singer and talk-show host Mike Douglas once offered a piece of wisdom that has stuck with me in the decades since I heard him say it.

He asked a guest on his afternoon talk show: “Why is it that a hot dog tastes like a filet mignon when you’re eating it at a baseball game?”

Why, indeed?

Well, my wife and I have discovered on our brief excursions in our fifth wheel that we can ask essentially the same question about any meal we eat inside our recreational vehicle: Why does our breakfast taste like a gourmet meal prepared at the finest restaurant on the planet?

OK, so maybe I’m being a bit hyperbolic. So what? I hope you get the point.

We prepared breakfast at a campsite at Lake Tawakoni State Park east of Dallas and, by golly, it tasted like something that came straight from Paul Prudhomme’s kitchen in New Orleans.

What was it? Turkey bacon, scrambled eggs and cantaloupe.

Hey, we aren’t gourmet chefs, but we do enjoy the taste of a meal in our recreational vehicle.

I trust others who read this blog – particularly those who also like to travel in their RVs – can understand what I’m saying here.

I totally understood Mike Douglas’s question about hot dogs at the ballpark. I’ve consumed more than my share of ‘em while watching a ballgame. He’s totally right about how they taste well, um, different in that context than they do around the dining room table at home.

The same can be said about eating in an RV.

We haven’t done enough of it – yet – to become expert commentators on it.

Maybe we’ll tire of the food cooked on our propane-fired oven once we hit the road more frequently and for longer period of time.

But I doubt that will happen.