So the Republicans are getting ready to go after Social Security and Medicare. Some of their followers don’t even seem to be rational. Here’s one who remarks that if Social Security goes, “no one is going to be hurt by it.”
Yeah. No one but the kids.
You know, if it were not for Social Security, I could not stay in my home. I wouldn’t be able to pay the property taxes, and pretty soon the County would come and evict me. I would be living on the streets right now, today. The house my son is living in would have been foreclosed by now, since without my salary and Social Security, we wouldn’t have a hope of making payments on the upside-down mortgage. And that is with a retirement nest egg that’s 3.3 times larger than the average 50- to 60-year-old’s.
In a culture where families fly apart as the kids reach adulthood, where the elderly are objects of disdain and discrimination, where you’ll have a tough time getting a job if you’re laid off at 45 and no chance at all if you’re in your 60s, where a man is considered not a man if his mother lives with him, where the elderly are expected to live on their own until they’re sent off to a nursing home, who exactly is going to take care of the old folks when they can no longer work?
Without Social Security and Medicare, my choices would be to depend on my son to house me, feed me, and cover my healthcare costs or to live on the street until I die, which would happen in short order. Ours is not a culture like Revanche’s, where young people expect to care for their parents no matter how much strain it puts on their own lives. Most Americans would expect their parents and troublesome siblings to fend for themselves.
This is true for a large portion of the elderly in our country. Get rid of the so-called “entitlement” programs—into which we have paid all our lives—and you’ll end up consigning huge numbers of older Americans to dire poverty. Responsibility for supporting them will fall to their adult children, who don’t have the resources to care for elderly, unemployable parents.
Will you be willing to take your parents in after they can no longer work? Oh, you say you don’t want Mom and Dad living in your spare bedroom? You don’t want them in your face all day, every day, telling you how to raise your kids and how to live your life. Well, then, are you prepared to pay their rent? Can you cover the property taxes on their paid-off home?
And when you discover the cat food in the pantry (they don’t have a cat, interestingly enough), will you shell out a couple hundred a month to buy groceries for them? When you find out that they’re too frail to get groceries for themselves, will you run to the grocery store once or twice a week and stock up on microwavable food for them?
Are you willing to pay for your parents’ healthcare? Sure you are. But can you? Can you afford to buy insurance for an elderly person who already has chronic health problems? And if they can’t get insurance at all (which they can’t, because of the chronic health issues), are you in a position to pay for their health care out of pocket? You do know, no doubt, how much treatment for a heart condition costs?
How many of you who are younger and midlife adults see yourselves, seriously, as willing and able to care for your parents when they get too old work? Take a look at these excellent young people who are coming up behind you…see any of them planning to support Mom and Dad in old age?
In the post linked above, Revanche asks readers if they have a plan for taking care of their parents when the old folks can no longer care for themselves. Do you? If you’re under about 35 or 40, you’d better get one.
And by the way, who’s going to support you when you get too old or sick to work, and the stock market crashes right at the moment when you can no longer hold down a job?
So yesterday I ran over to the dentist’s office to get my teeth cleaned. As you’ll recall, I canned Delta Dental when it became clear that Delta’s huge deductible, its $20 copays, and its skimpy coverage would combine to cost as much as or more than what it would take to simply pay the darned dentist out of pocket.
When I explained to him that I’d dropped the dental insurance, that I’m permanently unemployed, that I’m over the hill, and that I can’t afford to make separate paid trips to his office just to chat with him about what he plans to do, he cut his fee by 10 percent. This resulted in a significant reduction in the amount I owed him: from about $170 to about $140.
This was somewhat cheering.
The arborist came by in the afternoon to look at the damage inflicted by the idiot roofers. He was not pleased by what he saw.
As to the stump of the major branch those clowns chopped off the desert willow, cutting out a good quarter of the crown and stealing much-needed shade from the front courtyard, he opined that left the way it was it would die back, rot, and leave the tree vulnerable to bacterial infection and insects. To head off this fate, he cut it all the way back to the trunk.
I’m still dead furious about the damage to that beautiful tree, but it least now it looks better cosmetically.
The SOBs did the same thing to the paloverde in back: hacked off a chunk of a thick, major branch, this one casting shade on the west side. I’m afraid that little antic will make the westside deck unusable in the summer. Before they pulled this stunt, I actually was able to sit out there in the shade even when it was very hot. But now too much sun will pour down on that area to make it livable anytime after about mid-April. Just flicking infuriating.
He cut back that branch to a point where he thought the tree might be able to stop the mortification of the damaged area, although he made no guarantee. He said it will die back some. If it starts to die back further than a certain point, which it certainly could, then that entire limb will have to be removed, too.
Amazingly, he performed these small bits of tree surgery for free. I offered to pay him at least a trip charge; he said how about $10 for the gas.
So that was pretty astonishing. Now I’ll have to hire him to come back and do some serious (and seriously well-paying…) work as soon as I have the money. If I ever do. LOL!
Speaking of money, I haven’t received my 2011 back sick leave payment (RASL), which was supposed to be disbursed in February. The woman who runs that program took herself a nice long vacation this month; she’s not supposed to get back until today, when of course I have to spend the entire day in the classroom or lurking on the campus between classes.
State retirees who elected to participate in the 403(b) plan rather than the state’s pension fund are required to take a drawdown from investments to remain eligible for all three payouts of their RASL. I’m concerned that she’s decided the $1 a month that Fidelity told me was OK is NOT OK, and that she will announce she’s decided I’m “not retired” and will refuse to pay me any further.
This is another stage in the endless runaround the state deals out to its retired employees. Every time I asked someone in the state GAO (which administers the RASL program) what was the minimum amount I could draw down, I was told to talk to the people at Fidelity. Every time I asked someone at Fidelity, he would say he didn’t know or he would find out and get back to me. Obviously, “get back to you” is run-around talk for “flake off, please.” Finally I reached a middle-management type who claimed that you could take as little as $1.00 a month and still remain eligible for RASL, and that a number of Arizona state retirees he works with have done exactly that.
Nevertheless, given that the money hasn’t shown up, I expect the RASL administrator to announce that the buck a month doesn’t qualify, thereby giving me the shaft in the biggest way possible. It’s a fitting good-bye from state service.
Well, not much: student papers will come in on Thursday, needing to be turned around by the following Tuesday. But all things said and done, reading 50 comp papers is one heckuva lot better than hauling back and forth across the freeways to Tempe ten times in the cheery company of my fellow homicidal drivers.
Spent the better part of the weekend in the company of my friend KJG, now also a certified escapee from the Great Desert University. She went over the wall a few months ago, and like me is only just beginning to fully unwind from the stress of working in a psychologically crushing environment. It truly takes a good year to recover from the effects of spending eight or ten hours a day in a place where management works at making everyone miserable.
You realize…? There are therapists in this city who specialize in counseling GDU employees. Is that or is that not amazing?
Saturday I drove out to her house, way on the far west side (halfway to California). She and her husband, a firefighter, have built a lovely home on an acre of land out there. She’s very, very good at gardening and housekeeping; now that she’s home all the time, the place looks gorgeous.
KJG worried, as the opportunity for her to retire approached, about no longer contributing to the household income. She actually felt guilty about the prospect. Yesterday, though, she remarked that she no longer feels that way: “We have plenty,” she observed.
Indeed. And as a matter of fact, to pay for the gardening, housekeeping, cooking, and homemaking services she does could cost them more than she was earning at GDU. Sometimes having one member of a couple not work costs the household a great deal less than it would appear at first glance.
We took the dogs for a hike in the White Tank Mountains, which was quite an adventure for Cassie the Short-legged Little Corgi. KJG has a well trained and mellow doberman, one of whose steps equals about ten of a corgi’s.
The day was so gorgeous, there were quite a few people out, although not so many that the trail seemed as crowded as those in town. We did run into one chucklehead with a gigantic bulldoggy looking critter, probably a mastiff mix. He stood aside and cooed, “Don’t worry, he’s fine!” Of course the instant KJG approached to pass them, his huge dog lunged for the dobe, who, though generally a laid-back sort, wasn’t inclined to take any guff. Fortunately, Kathy is a good dog handler and managed to get by without contact. As she and her dog reached the other side of this obstacle, the doberman turned around, glared back at the guy and his mutt, and emitted a deep, alarming growl: Make my day!
And so we see again the uses of a small dog that can be picked up. Because Cassie only weighs 25 pounds, I could pick her up, climb off the trail, and wait for the guy and He’s Just Fine to go on their way.
Why do people take animals like that on narrow public paths?
That notwithstanding, it really was a beautiful morning and a nice hike.
Later we junketed around to several big nurseries on the westside—the area still has surviving pockets of agricultural land, some of which are occupied by wholesale nurseries whose proprietors will allow the general public to wander around. Then we took it into our heads to look at model homes in the very few surviving new-home developments.
And that was something to see. If you’re in the market for a new home in the Southwest, now is the time to buy! They’re practically giving the things away. We went into a set of Shea Homes models—Shea is reputed to be one of the better tract builders in Arizona—where we found several very attractive designs in what appeared to be pretty decent construction. Interestingly, the lots in this tract were sized for human beings living in single-family homes, with enough space between the houses to allow air to circulate. For $177,000, you can buy a large, intelligently laid out house with lots of big, bright, airy rooms, a kitchen to die for, and a master bathroom best described as “sybaritic.” Of course, by the time you added the amenities that made the models desirable, you’d be pushing three hundred grand… But it was clear that for about what my house would sell for, you could get the basic floor plan plus a few upgrades that would be hard to retrofit—the top-quality cabinetry, for example—and then over the next few years make the improvements you’d like as you could afford them.
For me, the disadvantage (besides the noise from the F-16s flying out of the nearby Air Force base) is the enormous distance from everything I like to do. It’s almost an hour’s drive from the central city. Moving out there would mean the end of choir participation, the end of the regular jaunts to AJs and Whole Foods, and the beginning of impossible drives to the nearest community college.
But it was fun to look at the houses. It really would be perfect if you could get Shea to build one of those places on an infill lot.
Sunday KJG drove into town, because we wanted to go on the Willo Historic District tour. This has become quite a shindig! They’d blocked off the feeder streets one street south of where I used to live, and the street where my son’s two babysitters used to live was filled with vendors’ booths. We came across one of my choir coconspirators, a lovely alto who owns Ecocentricity, an environmentally conscious shop right in the middle of the Willo commercial fringe.
She was selling a big purple purse one of her suppliers had made from a 1970s leather skirt. It was incredibly cute, and the leather was so soft and light the thing hardly seemed to weigh anything. The price was a bit stiff, though—ninety bucks. Coveting it, I set it aside to think it over while we were walking.
The day grew warm, though, and before we could get back to the Ecocentricity booth, we faded. Ended up going to lunch at our favorite uptown restaurant instead of wandering back whence we’d come.
In the real estate department, I really do miss my beautiful old house in Willo. Occasionally, I think I’d like to move back there. However, the historic district designation and the huge demand from affluent DINKs has pushed the prices out of my range. Oh well. It’s a lot of work to keep those old places up, anyway.
At Evensong my choir friend told me that the purse had almost sold three times, but she still has it! So I’ll probably drive down to Ecocentricity today, after I call the arborist to see what he can do about the trees damaged by the idiot roofers.
I intend to bill Crown Roofing for the cost, and also to post a report about the tree assault on Angie’s List. Every time I look at my poor tree in front, I could just cry.
The afternoon rising to the high 70s, had a nice snooze on the hammock before heading out to Evensong, where we listened to another of our music director’s awe-inspiring organ recitals and then sang a couple of really nice pieces for the service. That was fun.
After Evensong I went to the wine and cheese reception, where whom should I meet but a fellow who works for Pearson Publishing. This outfit contracts to my partner in business crime, Tina, who does project management for them. Turns out this guy writes science and tech textbooks for Pearson—he’s got a fulltime job with them, but because they allow him to work from home three days a week, he’s able to live in town, instead of out in the sea of houses that is Chandler, where the megapublisher’s Arizona quarters are located.
The guy started as a high-school teacher in one of the top science and technical high-schools in the Washington, D.C. suburbs. He says the school was outperforming most other schools and had a nationally top-ranking science program. When the No Child Left Behind legislation kicked in, the faculty were informed that they had to stand down from what they were doing and instead focus on getting their kids to pass the standardized exams—whose standards were lower than what the kids were already achieving.
This lock-step dumbing-down degraded the school’s quality—it no longer ranks at all in science and technology—and so demoralized staff that many people quit. He said that the year he left, 25 other teachers also departed.
Pearson pays quite nicely…given the cost of textbooks, they can afford it. You can be sure this guy is earning more than he did at teaching, and pretty clearly America’s school system lost some talent. Ohh well.
Anyway, the guy has a fair amount of music background. Maybe he can be persuaded to join the choir. He seemed like a nice man who’d fit in well.
Then it was back to the Funny Farm for a 9:00 p.m. stroll through the neighborhood with Cassie, a nice wrap-up for a fun weekend.
Last week President Obamasigned a bill that will lower your 2011 Social Security taxes from 6.2% to 4.2%, for next year only. This tax holiday, which, bizarrely enough, will cost the federal government $120 billion at a time when the government is facing astronomical deficits and we’re being told Social Security is headed for Hell on a skateboard, could save you as much as $2,136 next year. If you’re a couple both of whom earn over $106,800, you’ll see a $4,272 tax break.
The theory behind it is that the increase people will see in their monthly or biweekly paychecks will be small enough to look like gravy and so they’ll diddle it away on stuff and services, thereby supposedly stimulating the economy.
Could be. Could be voodoo works to cure warts, too.
I must say, if someone handed me $2,136 it would go straight to savings—even if I were wealthy enough for that amount to apply. O’course, that’s not what you’re going to see in your paycheck; it’ll be dribbled out to you in $178/month increments, or $89 per paycheck if you’re paid twice monthly. Considerably less, actually, unless you earn a top-tier paycheck. In my case, this vast new lucre will amount, over the entire year, to $288.
But let’s say you earn enough to matter. In theory, if you’re earning that much, you ought to be able to afford to spend two, three, four thousand bucks on anything your heart pleases. Two percent of my former, relatively modest salary, for example, would have put an extra $1,300 in my pocket—but in the palmy days when I earned a salary, that was less than I budgeted for the American Express card each month.
Several options present themselves:
1. Diddle it away. We’re told this will improve the economy, making us all richer and happier sometime in the gilded future.
2. Pay down debt, if you still have any after the past few years of our national frenzy to get out of debt. It would make sense, if this is your choice, to figure out how much the windfall will add to your paycheck and set your online bank account to automatically pay it to the creditor that holds your largest or your highest-interest debt.
3. Set it aside to buy a big-ticket item, thereby keeping yourself out of future debt. A couple thousand bucks would buy you a nice refrigerator or—yes! a MacBook! Here, too, the smart strategy would be to arrange an automatic transfer of the temporary raise from checking to savings.
4. Donate it to charity. With the de jure unemployment rate still hovering near 10 percent, the de facto rate around 20 percent, and thousands more Americans poised to be dispossessed of their homes in 2011, the civil thing to do would be to put the money where it can help someone else.
5. Save it for retirement. This is just a taste of what we can expect when the Republicans get back into office, which is likely to happen at the end of Obama’s present term. Continued raids on Social Security will kill it fast. If you’re under 65, you’re going to need this money when you find yourself too old to work.
Just now, my investments are earning between 5 and 7 percent; let’s say that averages 6 percent. And let’s say you’re 35 and you earn enough to qualify for the full $2,136: by the time you’re 65, this year’s windfall will be worth $12,268. If you’re a couple both of whom earn six-figure salaries, you’ll have an extra $24,536 in the community property, assuming you’re still married after 30 years. Ah, the miracle of compounding interest!
If it were me, I’d figure charity begins at home. At the rate we’re going, a person in her 20s or 30s can expect never to see a nickel from Social Security. If you have a Roth IRA, this will be an easy way to fund it. Simply have your bank send the extra income straight to the Roth. Second-best: if you’re not maxing out your 401(k) or 403(b), have your employer increase your contribution from your paycheck. Otherwise, invest it in a brokerage account, also by automatic deposit.
The Great Desert University is advertising a job opening at the Tempe campus. They want a business writer who can do PR for their business services branch. It’s a job I could do in my sleep, and it pays $50,000 to $52,000.
Fifty grand, though it’s only three-quarters of what I was earning, would go a long way toward solving all my money problems. It would cover my part of the mortgage on the upside-down house from now until long after the cows come home, leaving plenty to diddle away on extravagances such as clothes and a cell phone. And it would get me back into Delta Dental—I need to get my teeth cleaned, probably need a couple of new crowns, and am afraid to even talk to a dentist about what that’s going to cost.
But…
Yesterday I drove out to campus to take my friend Tina to lunch, by way of thanking her for all the wonderful things she’s done for me this year.
You know, just the prospect of driving from The Funny Farm out to Tempe every day is more than I can contemplate. The trip to GDU is just dreary, and then once you get there, where are you? The campus is so ugly and so depressing…as aesthetics alone go, to say nothing of what’s inside the buildings.
After an evening of light rain, today is just beautiful, the weather like San Francisco’s. The dog and I went for a long walk through the adjacent ritzy neighborhood, schmoozed with several neighbors beneath golden fall trees, tried to kiss a cat, returned feeling very content.
I did not have to drive through homicidal rush-hour traffic to get to an office at 8:00 this morning. I did not have to beg some supervisor or take “vacation” time to be here to intercept the workmen who are changing out the hail-battered air conditioning unit…why on EARTH would I want to take on another full-time job? If there’s really some reason for such a strange compulsion, surely I can find better places to work!
Dang. I’ve already written an application letter. It’s good. When they see this thing, they’ll fall all over themselves to hire me. But y’know what? Think I’ll delete it from the hard drive. I’d rather go hungry than go back to work at that place.
A moment’s exploration revealed that AARP offers Delta Dental at a reasonable rate, with no waiting period for routine care. I’ve re-upped, having found a full year’s premiums can comfortably be paid in one swell foop. And now I believe I’ll ride the new purple bike through the neighborhood. Unemployment hath its charms.
Well! So I march up to the North Phoenix Social Security office just as they’re opening the doors. The place is mobbed—turns out every holiday creates a backlog the following Monday morning.
Wait about half an hour for my number to be called. Present the mystifying letter to the highly professional youngish woman behind the window.
And lo!
The number in the letter does not represent a gross payment (as in previous correspondence). It’s a net payment! So the $1021.70 “regular monthly payment” represents a $64 increase, not a $236 cut in pay.
That’s if we believe this particular representative, something experience suggests is an iffy proposition. She says my gross benefit has increased to something over $1,300. Why? Because of the $14,400 I’ve earned this year!
Apparently if you keep working and keep paying FICA after you’ve claimed Social Security, they adjust your benefits upward for as long as you continue to earn.
If this is true, it’s good news. It should cover inflation in 2011—Social Security recipients again will not get a cost of living increase, because of course we all know that the costs of groceries and gasoline and utilities haven’t increased over the past year and surely won’t go up next year.
However, I’ll believe it when I see the money in the bank. It strikes me as way too good to be true.
