More important than “to love and cherish” or “in sickness and health” is the vow we made to each other many years ago – no early bird dinners. I’m not sure how it all began, but it may have had something to do with watching some seniors shuffle into the local Horn and Horn Smorgasbord Cafeteria at 4 o’clock in order to get the cheaper Early Bird dinner. One of us looked at the other and we vowed at that moment, to never, ever go to one of those things.

It’s a lot like the “shoot me if I get like that” promise that spouses extract from each other. There’s something about a herd of seniors being corralled into a cafeteria to eat at 4 pm (whether they’re hungry or not) that’s very unsettling. The restaurant views them as a captive audience that can be manipulated easily by the promise of a discount because they’re living on fixed incomes. Maybe that’s why there are so few guys wearing ascots or women wearing diamonds at an early bird dinner.

Does eating dinner at 4 pm mean you’re in bed under the covers by 8? Why does being older mean you have to miss all the fun? We want to eat at 8 pm and stay out until 10 or 11. Where’s the fun in sitting at home watching reruns? I would rather eat less and pay less than be rounded up like docile cattle for the chow line because the restaurant wants to fill some seats and get me out before the high rollers show up (if there areany high rollers going to cafeterias).

Even the elder hostels give me pause. Sure, the programs are great and they take the guesswork out of the planning, but there’s that herding thing going on again. Like lemmings following the lady with the red umbrella at the museum. I’m too much the nonconformist to go there.

I’ll take the discount for seniors at the movie theatre, museums, for bus/train fare, and at the supermarket. That’s only fair. We paid our dues by paying full price all these years. And it’s okay if a younger person allows me to go ahead of them (age before beauty is a reasonable accommodation). But, we have promised ourselves that there are no Early Bird dinners in our future, and it’s a promise we intend to keep.

(Best of BoomSpeak from 2009) 

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. His newest mystery novel, Rio Puerco Demise is available on Amazon. His first mystery novel, Head Above Water, is also available on Amazon. But that’s not all. You can also purchase the Best of BoomSpeak on Amazon.

Nearly every Friday, my father drove my mom and me into the city from our suburban home to visit his mother. Sometimes, one or more of my uncles would visit at the same time. After a few minutes of chatting with my grandmother, the men would adjourn to the front room, leaving the women and children in the kitchen.

When I was old enough to join the men in the front room, I learned some surprising things. Every one of these men had worked—or still worked—on boilers. Boilers were central to our lives. It still astonishes me how much there was to talk about when it came to boilers.

But what really surprised me was the opera music playing continuously on the record player while they discussed boilers. And they didnt just listen passively—they knew opera. They could name the composers, recount the stories, discuss favorite arias, and even sing sections in Italian, despite none of them speaking the language. To my knowledge, none had attended college, much less taken music appreciation courses. Yet they had all worked for years as young men, painting the walls and ceilings at the Auditorium Theater in Chicago, while opera rehearsals went on all around them. Without paying for a ticket or ever wearing a tie, they amassed an impressive knowledge of opera.

Though I eventually understood how that happened, I still don’t know how they became so familiar with existential philosophy. But their discussions of philosophy weren’t meant for the real world. The group’s reaction during one of these Friday night Boiler, Opera, Philosophy sessions to my announcing that I was considering becoming a philosophy major was a telling one. It became awkwardly quiet, though no one expressed outrage or offered sarcastic judgment.

The next morning, my favorite uncle showed up at our house and handed me a painting of a bum sitting under a tree, reading a book. He left without a word. There was no lecture about getting a real job or the dangers of dying hungry on the street. There didn’t need to be. It worked. I eventually became a geophysicist working for an oil company.

Over fifty years later, I have that painting hanging in my study.

But I still need to get a boiler!

Bob Marksteiner was born in Chicago and grew up in Franklin Park, Illinois

I used to go to a playground after dinner when I was young to watch guys play horse shoes in deeply worn pits. It was a deserted field basically. In one corner was a swing set for the grade school kids during recess. There was a baseball backstop at the far corner of the field…before Little League and no permanent bases. The ground was covered in small gray rocks compacted to a hard surface you didn’t want to fall or slide on. When a buddy of mine and I went there to practice fielding grounders with the school as the backstop, a brand-new hard ball would be reduced to shreds after one session. Next time out we would have to cover the ball with black friction tape (white adhesive tape didn’t last). Hours of repetition on what, back then, seemed like acres of open space, now looks more like half a city block. Which was a welcome lure to the wide-open spaces for us compressed neighborhood dwellers. Too bad there wasn’t any greenery on site. Still, it was unobstructed room to run, to breath. No cars.

Sunday mornings offered another use for Italian men in our unofficial ghetto as soon as their wives left for the 9:00 mass. They slid over to the playground with a sack of bocce balls and the studied art of launching a heavy ball, underhanded, with a shuffling trot to knock aside opponents crowding the little ballino. Then sticks would come out to measure the closest to the target ball. In all, it was a great chance to hang with some old-world buddies, smoke some twisted, foul, Perogi cigars, chat in the mother tongue, reach back for childhood games from the old country and basically let the women fulfill religious obligations.

If we used our imaginations we could create a ball diamond with scraps of cardboard for bases. It was better than trying to play ‘home runs’ in the allies dissecting our blocks. Not to mention losing balls that sometimes launched into close-cropped backyards. The trouble was you had to walk four blocks to get to the school playground. You had to gauge the level of group interest and available free time before dinner. So, the alley on our block often served for short term versions of the national pastime.

The A. L. Holmes playground on Detroit’s Eastside served many purposes. You just had to pick the right time.

Retired trainer, and writing instructor, Joe Novara lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Writings include novels, short stories, a memoir and various poems, plays, anthologies and articles. Read more at https://freefloatingstories.wordpress.com/

No one would blame you if you’re one of the people who thought “peak burden” is when you’re exhausted from carrying around a mountain. Alas (a word that should be used more often), the phrase refers to rapidly approaching “peak 65” when the youngest boomers turn age 65.

Who cares? Maybe you should if you’re on the leading edge of the generation. We (the leading edge we) are mostly prepared for retirement if we have not already done so. The peak 65 group? Not so much.

Around 53% of “peak boomers,” who will turn 65 between 2024 and 2030, have less than $250,000 in assets, a new study found. Research also indicates that more than a quarter of the workers that are nearing retirement have no savings and few years left to put some money away.

Bottom line, peak boomers will be hard pressed to maintain their standard of living in retirement. That in turn means they will rely on Social Security as their primary source of income. It’s estimated that one-third of these younger boomers will rely on Social Security benefits for at least 90% of their retirement income when they are 70.

You should already know that Social Security was never meant to be a retiree’s total income. More like 40%. The idea was that it would supplement what retirees had managed to save over the years in a bank account or 401k. The average benefit is $23,000 per year, which is hardly enough for a comfortable retirement. It’s more like a small step up from sleeping on the street in a cardboard box.

How or why should the peak burden worry older boomers? The stress put on the economy by these peak burden retirees will impact everyone. Productivity could slow as they leave the workforce. Likewise, consumer spending could decrease as they lack the funds to spend. In effect, everyone could feel some pain, not just the peak burden people.

There’s a saying that pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. Not buying it. Many retirees could be seeing some hard times ahead.

Jay Harrison is a writer and creative consultant for DesignConcept. His newest mystery novel, Rio Puerco Demise is available on Amazon. His first mystery novel, Head Above Water, is also available on Amazon. But that’s not all. You can also purchase the Best of BoomSpeak on Amazon.

I have some nice jewelry – not diamonds or gold – mostly unique silver pieces from when we lived in Egypt and silver, turquoise, coral and sugilite from the American southwest. I viewed them as wear-to-work or out-for-dinner, and I’m not doing much of either these days. My retirement wardrobe is functional and not particularly stylish.

For some reason, I worry about what happens to our stuff when we die. We have wills and all that, but there’s this weird dark side of me that considered selling everything little by little, so that by the time we die, all the good stuff will be gone. My dad used to sell our toys if we took a bathroom break, so I’m thinking this may be another oddity from the gene pool.

So, yes, I thought about selling my jewelry, among other household items, but silver isn’t all that valuable and I don’t really want to part with the stones. As they say, you can’t take it with you. I’ve decided to start wearing it, possibly even adopting the look of a crazy lady who wears all her jewelry at once. By the way, this does align with my vision of pretending I am a Bohemian heiress who spends her later years dabbling in what amuses her.

I’ve always leaned minimalist, and it was not hard to follow Coco Chanel’s advice about removing one piece before you leave the house. Why not add one piece before leaving the house? Or two? I’ve also decided items I reserved for special occasions can now come out to play. Kind of like using your good china, because it’s just sitting there otherwise.

My silver concho belt with a rash guard and denim shorts? Birkenstocks? Why not? I shined up the belt and wore it to the grocery store. We were walking down the aisle, and Dale said, “That belt looks beautiful.” Wow, so that was worth it, right?

The bad news is I need to polish up the rest of my silver, but I’m excited about wearing some pieces that have been tucked away for quite a while. And wondering how I am going to mix it up … unusual combinations I hadn’t previously considered.

I’m also thinking about new ways to wear some of the work clothes I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of. And, oh, those cowboy boots from Texas.

If we do it right, retirement can be all about freedom. Maybe with aging, we lose the fear of being judged. Wear what you want, think what you want, say what you want, do what you want.

Just live your life. Wear the jewelry, use the good china.

(Rerun from the Best of BoomSpeak)

Donna Pekar is an aging badass (for real) who lives in California and writes Retirement Confidential.