If Not Now, When?

My husband and I recently bought a travel trailer. This is not a small expense. It came after much research and thought, including considerable mental flip-flopping on my part about spending money when I have a very unpredictable income, our ready cash stash is dwindling (due to my unpredictable income), and our current budget cannot afford this expense. Not only that, we’ve never tried the RV life together. We just think we’ll like it. A little backstory might be useful, if you’re wondering why we would make what might appear on the surface to be such a reckless decision.

As baby boomers approaching the years when we will be freer to choose how we spend our days, weeks, and months and enjoy pursuits that full-time jobs typically preclude (like weeks on the road in an RV), we got the notion that having an RV would be a great retirement adventure. So we started dream shopping a few months ago, assuring the RV dealer that we were scoping out a purchase that we’d make five or so years from now. At that time we expect my husband will be able to retire completely, or will take on some consulting work that will give him work flexibility. As for me, I am a freelance writer and can work anywhere, anytime, so my work life fits well with the freedom of RVing. I expect I will continue to “write for money” for as long as I enjoy it.

I should also mention I have no experience RVing, but I have “camped” on a power boat and loved it. Plus, I’d been feeling like I’ve been missing out on my nature fix over the past several years. My husband is a seasoned travel trailer camper, but hasn’t done it in more than a decade. However, we both love to travel and thought the idea of towing a home around behind us sounded like a good one. We can bring our dog along and don’t have to waste time or money researching and booking accommodations well in advance whenever we want to take a vacation. The idea was very appealing.

At the time we started scouting out RV setups for the future, we were considering a major purchase -- a large fifth wheel and a heavy duty diesel truck to go with it. However, the RV dealer suggested we might want to start with something smaller and cheaper in the meantime -- essentially to try out RVing without much investment and see how we like the RV life. A seed was planted. It occurred to us that maybe we didn’t have to wait for retirement to start having some RV fun.

We spent the next few months looking at new and used travel trailers, assessing floor plans, evaluating weight and towing capacity, and even checking out new trucks. At first glance, the cost of the truck was prohibitive (more part of our five-year plan, not the “right now” plan), so the next step was finding a trailer our existing older truck could pull. After touring through a number of used trailers it was clear to us that new was the way to go. Three days at an RV show and several hours of sitting in RVs at the local dealer narrowed the search down to “the one” -- the perfect floor plan, a very good quality four-season unit, and a trailer our existing truck could pull, at least on flat ground and for short distances. However, the trailer was new and well beyond the “try it out” budget we had in mind. We came face-to-face with the ultimate decision. Buy this trailer now and start enjoying it or wait until we could afford it.

In evaluating this decision, it became very clear to me that those of us in the second half of life must adopt a new way of thinking, because we are living a new reality. The bulk of our life is behind us. The quality of the years ahead is questionable. What if we get sick? What if we lose our spouse? What if we hesitate to do something now that we have put off in all those years of working, building our lives, raising children, saving money and growing up and suddenly, because of some “what if” circumstance, we don’t realize our retirement dreams? I believe there is no time to squander when facing the risk of a “what if.” For me, at this age there is one thing for certain. There are fewer years ahead of me than behind me and I better make the most of them.

At this juncture, a little more backstory might be useful. This backstory is about money. Even though I’m still working, my income is erratic and is less than half of what I made just a few years ago, when I worked for a large, hi-tech company. I, probably like many other baby boomers who are in this transitional time, am  having to adjust to the notion that there are all kinds of money: money you make, money that’s making money for you, and money that you’ve made that the government has set aside to help you in the golden years. It feels odd to me to now be in the position to tap other resources that have been set aside for the future (I’m talking about my IRA -- and Social Security in another three years). My habitual thought patterns say my IRA funds are for down the line. But I’ve come to realize they can also be for right now. This is a new way of thinking for me, but an important concept to embrace. Of course, my preference would be to generate enough income to make our trailer payments. But if I can’t, my IRA will do that for us.

So we bought the brand new trailer, because I was able to successfully ask and answer for myself what I consider to be the real question, “If not now, when?” That is a very important question for those of us who are at this stage of life to ask ourselves. I think the answer is a no-brainer.

By the way, we bought the big, new truck too so we can pull that trailer anywhere we want to and have as many adventures as we can manage -- right now.

I Am Like My Dog

For the past couple of years, my husband and I have been watching our beloved dog age. She is close to 17 years old.

I have not had this experience before. I’ve had animals who were getting up in years, and then suddenly became ill and I had to let them go. I did it. It hurt, but from it I thought I learned to be tough. I thought I was prepared. I am not. This is hard.

It’s hard for two reasons. I worry every time she seems not quite herself. I wonder when the time will come, and on a not-so-good day, I think, with my heart in my throat, “Is this it?” I hover over her, gauging her daily activities and mood to make sure she’s ok. I am apprehensive when I leave home for a trip. I pray for her to make it through until I return. I’m concerned that she’s in pain, or that she’s troubled and anxious because she can’t hear us anymore and her sight is failing rapidly.

And (second reason), I see her as the touchstone for my future. Who would have thought I would have a window into my progression into old age through my dog? But I do. I know I have many, many good years ahead of me. And she might too. But I can see the similarities between us already. We’re stiff in the morning, we sometimes forget things (she will go in and out of the house over and over again -- and the irony is I have to set a timer when she goes out because I will forget about her) and I can see her frailty escalating. Because she can’t hear and barely see us anymore, she nips at our hands as they come close to her face. I too, currently nursing a sore shoulder that’s not healing as fast as it would have a few years ago, am feeling more vulnerable in the world.

But there is another side to her aging I also find I can relate to. She has a sense of abandon she never had before. This part I like. She used to be very wary of confined spaces. Now she will traverse anything -- be it the space between the truck and the garage door, a ridiculous threaded path through the outdoor furniture, or most recently, a head long plunge between a living room armchair and my cello on its stand -- even though I provided ample space in the living room for her to walk through. Yes, she is losing her sight, but there is more to it than that. She is unafraid. When I load her in the car, she no longer cowers and trembles. Tail up, she is ready to go. She is less interested in challenging other dogs (she has always been particular about who her dog friends are) and more interested in who they are.

As I enter the second half of my life, I find I have a similar outlook. I care way less about expertise and way more about the experience. Though I'm a cello novice, I’m planning to accompany on my cello two friends who play violin and viola in an upcoming Christmas concert at our favorite wine shop. It is a joy to play with them. If I flub up, I don’t care. I apply for jobs online regularly -- “selling” myself and happy if a company or agency “buys”, but equally OK if they don’t. So far I’ve garnered two freelance writing jobs from this “what the hell, give it a shot” attitude. What do I have to lose? I am much more friendly with store clerks, strangers in elevators and whoever else wants to strike up a conversation than I have ever been before. And I’m often the initiator of these conversations. Why not? Much like my dog, who doesn’t pick fights with other dogs anymore -- she just offers a friendly nose (when she realizes they are there) -- I am opening myself to life and other people in a way I didn’t when I was younger.

I have learned a lot from my dog over the years: live in the moment, take all the love you can get, be loyal. I am now learning how to age gracefully. Though she sleeps through most of the day, she is full of puppy energy for a walk. If she can stay bouncy through the aches and pains, so can I.

It will be a sad day when she goes, but it will be one more lesson from her. Live life to the fullest, hang on as long as you can and know that love is what counts the most.

Click -- Pick Me!

When I applied for the job I held for almost two decades until I retired this summer, I didn't yet have email or even an Internet connection. At least I had a computer for creating a master cover letter to revise with each application, an easily refreshed resume and even a way to "type" addresses on an envelope.

As for the job search? I did it the old fashioned way -- reading ads in the newspaper and sending hopeful snail mails to bricks and mortar offices. Tedious. Time-consuming. Not very rewarding. And once sent...the applications often drifted off into obscurity. Did they even receive it? Did I address it correctly? Don't they want me?

It's a whole new world in this second half -- and I mean that figuratively and literally. With a few simple clicks of my mouse I'm shooting applications off here, there and everywhere (which can include around the world, and certainly to prospective employers with a global presence). You gotta love that. It's so easy -- upload my resume, customize a brief online cover letter, include links to my website and voila! I've applied.

And they respond with a confirmation. "Hi Ginny, we received your application. Thank you!" Heck, I'm almost there! We're already on a first name basis.

Then there's the plethora of online job consolidators like Indeed.com, SimplyHired.com and CareerBuilder.com -- and that's just a tiny scratch in the surface. Pages and pages of employment possibilities shining away at me from my computer screen.

Much like surfing the Internet, surfing for job prospects is a little addicting. Who knows what might be out there tomorrow, tonight, or a few minutes from now?

I gotta get a grip, because job surfing is not the same as working and the amount of time I spend doing it might be better spent, say, writing a book -- that I'll publish on the Internet! Or playing cello. Or baking cookies for my husband. And there is that laundry....

Technology. Love it.

"How Does it Feel to be Retired?"

My husband asked me that question recently. And my answer was something along the lines of, "Not very different from how it's felt for the past few months working."

That's because my days didn't dramatically change on retirement Day One, when many retirees instantly transition from full and demanding days on the job to luxuriously abundant-with-free-time days where they get up in the morning whenever they want to and indulge themselves in spontaneous activites all day. Over the past several months, prior to my last day at work, my work load had dwindled to almost nothing -- other than a weekly blog post and checking email every day. I've worked from home for more than ten years, so being where I love to be and having a varied and flexible schedule is nothing new. In fact, officially retiring was a tiny bit disappointing because I didn't get to experience that major shift in routine.

However, as the time passes I am feeling other subtle shifts -- and that's where the difference between working full time because I have to and defining my life more on my own terms is starting to sink in. Some of it's good. Some of it's not so good.

The not so good comes from the root of all evil -- money. No matter how much I prepared by working the figures, discussing our finances with my husband and reassuring myself we'll be fine, getting a grip on having less money -- significantly less money -- is an adjustment. I may have retired from one job, but that doesn't mean I've stepped out of the work world -- because I don't want to have significantly less money for long. Money is power. Money is freedom. Money is nice. It's what you exchange for the things you want -- whether that be home improvements, vacations or the ability to "hold your own" with your children and indulge them with gifts and opportunities. You don't necessarily realize how important these things are until you no longer have the ability or control to provide them.

Control. That's another tricky element that has waned with "retirement." For the first time in more than 20 years I do not have absolute control over my finances. I am dependent on someone else now. And with that dependency comes a loss of control. That hit home hard when I was trying to convert my life insurance over to my husband's flexible benefits -- and doing it from a distance because I was 500 miles away from home visiting family. He was having to do the "leg work" of making this change because I no longer had access to the electronic systems in the company where we both worked and which I retired from. The people he was working with didn't understand the process we needed to go through and kept giving him what I knew were wrong answers -- as I was in a special class of retirees, having taken a company-proposed early retirement. And because there are such strict rules and timing in all of this, I was feeling especially vulnerable in trying to manage this a couple of steps removed and hundreds of miles away -- though I eventually found the key to regaining at least some control was simply having all his personal information in my hands and feeding it to the benefits representatives (a good lesson for others in similar situations). The final blow was to learn I had no influence over beneficiary designations. Even though we're married and our finances are now combined, I don't own this life insurance. It's all his, and that means he gets all the money. There is no option to provide for my other heirs -- as I could with my own life insurance. I have never been in this position before.

At one point in this process I broke down sobbing over the phone to my husband, "I have nothing, I am nothing, I'm nobody and I can't do anything." I know I shocked (and probably scared) him with this outburst, but I really surprised myself too. It seemed I'd been holding in -- and maybe hiding from myself -- the crux of what it meant to make such a dramatic life change. I didn't truly mean I had no value as a person. What I meant was I'd lost my power, and I was now invisible in a system in which I had recently had a very strong presence. I got over it (and it helped to unlock the secret to working the system), but there's definitely a lesson in letting go when it comes to retiring.

Now for the upside...though my daily routine is not dramatically different from what it was before retirement, what I am noticing is a significant and very liberating absence of pressure -- the pressure to continually meet ongoing deadlines, the pressure of planning my work out weeks ahead, the pressure of being responsible to multiple constituents on an ongoing basis, the pressure to "grow and develop" in a job where it was often a challenge to overcome complacency, the pressure to perform well and with enthusiasm at tasks I really didn't enjoy. That absence of pressure feels great. Where I may have lost some financial freedom, I have greatly gained personal freedom -- to explore, go forth and be myself in the world, whatever I'm defining my self to be.

In my case, "retirement" is a bit of a misnomer. I haven't completely let go. Though I've retired from my job of 18 years, I haven't retired from the work world. What I'm hoping for is to find work on my own terms as a freelance writer -- because I love to write and I'm pretty fond of the money (and the power and freedom) part time freelance writing will bring. I can't afford to completely leave the work world yet, and that's OK.

What I AM enjoying is the opportunity to create work I want to do, and only work I want to do, rather than plunging right into work I have to do because I have to make a living. That's a huge change. And that's taken some getting used to too -- the art of simply giving myself permission to do this and making sure I don't grab at something I don't want. While I may not be luxuriating in a dramatic shift in my daily life, I am luxuriating in the gifts of defining my own work, being free to work when I want to and exploring a new world of connecting with people in a creative way rather than being at the mercy of a job description. This is the beauty and excitement of retirement -- whether you are working for money or working for the enjoyment of doing something you love to do. In retirement, these two things can (and should) be one and the same.

Lastly, though you might say I'm semi-retired, there is one thing I think I share with all retirees....when you're "retired" it is REALLY hard to remember what day it is. And I don't think that has anything to do with age ;-).