We don’t want your stinkin’ homes. So sayeth millennials. To be more accurate, they can’t afford our stinkin’ homes and even if they could afford them, they hate the location.

Nine million homes are projected to go on the market between now and 2027. As boomers die or age out, the homes come on the market at a time when younger generations are looking for smaller homes in more urban locations. Locales with declining populations in the rust belt or in retirement communities are the last places younger would be buyers will be looking.

Then there’s the affordability problem. Millennials and Gen Xers have more debt and financial stress than almost any prior generation. About 70 percent of millennials and around 50 percent of Gen Xers surveyed indicated they would like to buy a house one day. Less than half of them are actually saving to buy. Eight percent of millennials and 23 percent of Gen Xers surveyed think they will never own a home.

So what is going to become of these nine million homes? Turn them into baby boomer museums/monuments? Maybe they will hate the location, but if mom and dad gift their home to a child or grandchild, will they say no? The renters among them who are put off by the costs of home ownership probably will take a pass on the deal. But others may recognize that life out in the burbs isn’t so bad if you don’t have a mortgage payment. That savings could offset the cost of Ubering back and forth to the city for entertainment and to see their rich friends who could afford houses there.

This projected housing glut has a familiar ring to it. Not only do younger generations not want our houses, they also do not want all of our stuff. The china settings for 12, the crystal, flatware, jewelry, artwork, the furniture and the damn tchotchkes – all of it is going begging at garage and estate sales. It’s stuff alright. The stuff of nightmares. We can’t give away “brown furniture” to younger generation minimalists.

Maybe the best advice then is to start downsizing now. Sell the big house and furnish the new smaller abode with the kind of furnishings a millennial would want. They will be glad you did.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

In yet another failed social experiment, I joined a meetup group of over-50 hikers and signed up for what was described as a “brisk 5-mile walk” along an urban trail.

While the trail was fine, the walk was anything but brisk. There were a fair number of chatty slow pokes, and the leader paused every so often to let them catch up. At one point, I went ahead of the leader because the sauntering pace was killing me, but apparently you’re not allowed to get in front of the leader.

I do understand rules. They’re trying to keep everyone together and safe, but it was painful. I was eager to walk with a group, because I’ve read all the studies about social connections and well-being. However, I quickly realized you are only as fast as the slowest walker.

One of the women who was moseying along was raving about what a beautiful and perfect day it was. I was cold, because I couldn’t work up a sweat, and I was stuck behind her lumbering self, so I wouldn’t call that perfect.

I finally figured out how to slow down, although it felt like I was walking in place. I did chat with others, and it was all right, but the truth is I’d rather be alone and walk fast.

So, OK, I tried it, and I didn’t like it. I guess that means I’m still a loner. But you know what? I’m OK with that. When I was working, I thought I was anti-social because I was busy, tired, pissed or whatever. In retirement, all is revealed, and it turns out I’m just anti-social.

I’ve been like this all along, and it hasn’t killed me yet.

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

I pity the people who cruise through Nebraska seeing only endless fields of wheat and soy beans and corn as high as an elephant’s eye. They miss so much as they speed by locked inside their refrigerated SUV’s and mini-vans at 75 miles per hour. Things like Toad Stool State Park, a thin blade of the badlands slicing through the northwest corner of the state. The park is a collection of buttes and rock formations plopped down in the endless green sea of the Oglala National Grasslands.

On this brilliant July morning, the slanting light scalds the sculptured formations, bleaches them in light and shadows. It is stark, yes, like a lunar landscape, but there are also lush fields of ferns and glowing goldenrod that have caught the unusually abundant spring rains. I hop around this landscape, bounding from one formation to another like an old, gray-haired billy goat. I take pictures of all this, opening an enormous eye in my mind and capturing the creviced rocks and pockets of lush greens and glowing yellows.

After lunch, we head done the historic Platte River Road alongside the Oregon Trail, taking in the grass-covered Sand Hills and fields spotted with scattered bales of hay to Scott’s Bluff National Monument. The first thing we do, the only option, really, is to be awed by the columned layers of sandstone jutting into the air like the prow of a ship and the deep blue sky filled with speeding clouds. Then we hike up the looping path to the top of the bluff and repeat the process I followed this morning. I will again open the enormous eye in my mind and take pictures of all this, capturing the rugged bluffs topped with spindly pine trees, the great empty plains covered with velvet-green grass and creased with twisting, knotted streams, and endless cloud filled skies.

Later, I will cull through the images of the day, get them down in my note book. I will cultivate, nurture, and grow memories as my pen scribbles across the page. When I am done, I will select the brightest ones and hang them in the Museum of my Mind.

Before retiring, Scott Peterson was an educator in Mattawan, Michigan. He also taught writing classes at Western Michigan University. HIs essays and poetry have appeared in numerous anthologies and journals.

 

 

 

You might as well yell SEE ME! a little louder, because the fact is that the advertising world ignores us. We should be an easy bullseye for marketers but in reality, not so much. A third of the U.S. population is over 50, but when it comes to media images (talking TV and print) we only garner 15 percent according to research done by AARP. It was based on a random sample of more than 1,000 images published or posted by popular brands and organizations.

Face it. We’re caricatured in marking images as looking old and out of it and heading fast for the dustbin. Despite the fact that more than 53 million people over 50 are still working as one third of the U.S. labor force, only 13 percent of the images showed these older individuals at work. Instead, they were often shown at home or with a health care provider. Younger workers, on the other hand, were shown with their also young co-workers, and often with technology products. Only 5 percent of the images showed older workers using technology, despite the fact that 69 percent of people between 55 and 73 own a smartphone. You can bet those same people own computers and are online much of the time.

A big part of the problem is that most workers in the advertising and marketing industries are young themselves. Their natural inclination is to use images of people who look like them. Ageism is the norm in the advertising world so it’s no surprise that boomers are either invisible or shown in ways that distort who we are and the contribution we are still making to the economy. Even worse, we are often portrayed as clueless and out of touch, just foils for younger people to dismiss as “practically dead.”

The good news is that AARP did something about this trend. They teamed up with Getty Stock images to introduce a collection of 1,400 images showing older people doing what we do…running businesses, participating in sports or active pursuits and interacting with younger generations in ways that are far from insulting.

So the problem is not solved but things are looking up. Searches for “seniors” on Getty have increased 151 percent from a year ago. The most popular image now is one of women in t-shirts doing yoga. A decade ago, the best-selling photo was an older couple in sweaters on the beach.

Jay Harrison is a graphic designer and writer whose work can be seen at DesignConcept. His mystery novel, Head Above Water, is available on Amazon and Kindle. You can also visit his author page here.

It seems to me there’s a bias for work, as though work is inherently better than leisure, and unless we figure out some sort of livelihood after we retire, we’re headed toward doom and demise. The headlines are all about having no time to retire or reinventing oneself for your next act. I’ve used some of those words in the past. But now I think it’s more complicated than that and have been thinking about different type of people and their relationship to work as they age.

True Believers – They love their jobs and can’t wait to tell you about it.

Worker Bees – People who simply want to work, even at what many of us would call crappy jobs, but they are still jobs that matter, and these dedicated souls are proud to do them without much fanfare.

The Walking Wounded – Maybe they like their jobs OK, but maybe they don’t. Either way, they aren’t particularly happy or unhappy, but they can’t quite let go. What else is there? They will be there to turn off the lights.

Endurance Athletes – Those who keep working partially because their careers are gratifying but partly because they don’t have the financial resources to survive without a job. They do what they have to do.

Happy Retirees – We left the workforce hopefully on our terms and hopefully with enough money to make it to the end. Some of us will find other work because we want to or because we need supplemental income, but some of us are done with paying gigs.

While these archetypes are just simple generalizations, and I don’t claim to have captured everyone’s relationship to work, there’s a broad spectrum of people getting older and thinking about retirement. We all have different resources, different expectations and different personal demands. There’s no magic bullet.

And that is my long way of saying how much it annoys me when people proselytize about working or staying busy or whatever it is they think we need to do with our time.

Busy is not the gold standard of retirement happiness. As an official ambassador for the Happy Retirees, I enjoy a peaceful pace of life that engages my brain and body without a boatload of stress.

I win! No reinvention required.

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

 

My wife, Penney, and I were returning from an outing to the Antler’s Bar and Grill on a bitter winter night. But, wouldn’t you know it, on the road home my car stuttered, yammered and then stalled next to a snowbank.

Now what? I thought. Penney simply stared straight ahead as if waiting for me to tear open the hood and fiddle and poke till the only thing I got going was a bad case of the chilblains. And I just knew that when I got back in the car she would calmly say, “Why don’t we just let it rest.” But not this time. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

She always says that. When the toaster doesn’t toast. ‘Let it rest.’ When the garbage disposal seizes up—‘let it rest.’ Penney doesn’t know from thermal relays and reset buttons. But every time I start to tell her about those things she smiles like a mountain-top guru with the answer to life: ‘let it rest.’ And, of course, she’s right part of the time but she doesn’t know why. And could care less.

Maybe she gets her attitude from gardening. There’s a rhythm to it all: the time for planning and the time for planting; the time for growing and the time for harvesting. Then she cans the vegetables and fruit, lines them on a shelf where, of course, they wait. Or maybe she gets her outlook from having babies. You can’t rush babies. It’s a long ride so you might as well relax. She has taken a lot of trips.

So, maybe after all these years of marriage, I can admit that she is right. This night, in this snowdrift, I’m going to let it rest.

Penney looked over at me. “Well, aren’t you going to do something?” she asked. “You know, like look under the hood, jump the carburetor or goose the battery or whatever it is that you do?”

“No,” I replied in a level voice. “I thought I would just let it rest for a while.”

“Are you nuts?” she screamed. “We could freeze to death out here.”

Then I watched her in the dimming lights of our fading battery as she flagged down a trucker and left me to rest a while.

A former corporate trainer and writing instructor, Joe Novara and his wife live in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Writings include novels, short stories, a memoir and various poems, anthologies and articles. Check them out here.