Here’s the Thing about Money

Recently, some ultra rich people made a public statement that they didn’t need the tax cut recently signed by Trump. They might be in the minority of the ultra rich, but I’m certain their sentiment is absolutely true. There is a point at which the only point of more money is to one-up someone else. Your needs – and indeed, your wants – have been satisfied.

We are not there yet. In fact, every time I relax a bit and think we are OK, something happens to shake my confidence. Here’s some history of our financial life. We got married when we were still in grad school. I had a $200/mo. stipend from a fellowship. He had a $200/mo. check as a RA. We paid $80/mo. rent and ate at a corner bar & grill more often than we should have. We saved enough to make a down payment on a basic VW bus, modified it into a camper, and took off most weekends for somewhere. 

We also saved some money for a trip to Alaska on a state ferry. (People could sleep on the deck in those days.) But suddenly, the beloved bus needed an expensive repair and that was the end of our dream trip to AK. Next, he suffered a TBI (traumatic brain injury) in a bicycle race. Suddenly, our minimalist two income lifestyle was a zero income lifestyle. He couldn’t work, and I couldn’t leave him alone. Things eased up a bit when his boss let him come back to work long before he could do anything useful. I started work mid-August for my first year teaching, not knowing that I wouldn’t get a paycheck until October 1. When September 1 came around with no check, I panicked, but we scraped together enough to survive the month. Together, we agreed we needed to keep some money untouched, and we would never, ever build a budget based on two incomes. 

In 1975, Seattle voted down a school levy and laid off teachers. I survived that layoff because the district opted not to lay off any special ed teachers, of which I was one. I survived future layoffs based on seniority because I now had one year over the layoff threshold. Unfair, but hey. Spouse was self-employed during these years, always making some money, but the amount varied from year to year. By this time, we were building a savings account so that we could survive a few months in event of a new mishap. We realized that we had enough money to make a down payment on a house, which we did. Mortgage payment, taxes and insurance was equal to the rent we had been paying. (Life was different back then.) 

We continued to live as a one-income couple despite our two incomes. We made basic improvements to the house, but nothing fancy, and sold it twelve years later at a handsome profit, which we applied to a duplex where we lived in half and rented the other half. After which, we moved to a boat and sold the duplex at a profit. We did not sell the boat at a profit, but we didn’t lose a lot. And somewhere along the way line, a great aunt died, willed some money to my mom who divided it in half and gave my sister and me each $10,000. That doesn’t sound like a lot today, but we didn’t need it at the time and put it into savings. Later, my mom died, and we inherited another sum, again a modest amount that we didn’t need at the time. We bought a new car for $10,000, two tax deferred annuities, and a handful of blue chip stocks just as the market was starting on a huge upward trend. 

Meanwhile, spouse took a job with a paycheck in lieu of the unpredictability of being self employed. His employer had a 401K plan, so when his plant eventually closed, he had a little pile of money to invest. No. We did not buy Microsoft when it went public. Most of our initial investments paid off before they tanked as the 80s blue chips gave way to the 90s tech boom which gave way to the dot com bubble. We did eventually buy some Microsoft, but after the initial investors had made many millions of dollars. We bought Apple at it’s peak in the ‘90s and watched its value plummet on rumors of impending bankruptcy. But Bill Gates bailed out Steve Jobs, and we didn’t sell at the bottom, and now it’s worth a lot more than we paid for it despite its uncertain future re: China.. We lost money in the dot com bust, but came out with enough to keep us afloat.

I’ve read lots of advice about saving for retirement, about renting vs owning, about the 4% rule (theoretically, you can use 4% of your total pile of money each year and you’ll never run out of money). But right now the present is chaotic, the future so unpredictable, that who knows if we’ll be OK until we die. We don’t have long term care insurance. Many friends do, but I just don’t trust insurance companies. Yes, some have benefitted, and it’s a bit risky to be self-insured for what could be massive expenses in the future. We will either be OK or we won’t. Spouse’s opinion is that if we run out of money, the whole world will be a shambles, so we’ll have lots of company. Occasionally, he’s right.

In any event, we got a call last Thursday from the real estate agent who has the listing for the house we want to sell. I really like the house, but we might be the only people who do. It’s been on the market a month, some lookers, right price, but people always have some nit-picky issue with it. The reason for her call was that another agent was showing the house and saw that a toilet was leaking. Water damage. If there are any two words you never want to hear about your house, it’s “water damage.” 

We were already on our way there to pull some weeds, so when we arrived, she explained it all to us. Our handyman is on vacation, so we had to call a real plumber. Simple fix, and $275 later the new part had restored the toilet back to normal. Then I had to call a company that deals with water damage. Good news, they were able to start work on Friday afternoon. The first part, ripping out the damaged bits, will take a few days and a few thousand dollars. The last part will take a few more days and a few thousand more dollars. The house will be “temporarily unlisted” for about two weeks (we hope not more), and will forever be tainted as I suspect word will get around about “water damage.” 

Meanwhile, spouse continues to make coffee in the morning. Also sometimes in the evening as he can’t tell 7:30 a.m. from 7:30 p.m., especially at this time of year. He also takes care of our garbage and our recycles and asks me many times a day what day is it. I still love bumming around with him. So that’s good. 

Well, back to the point about money. It’s great to have some, I’m glad we do, I hope it lasts, and I just wish the damn toilet hadn’t leaked. 

Change Your View

Change your view. Change your point of view. 

Sometimes moving is good for the soul. We are of an age when moving is a huge chore. We have not done the downsizing that anyone our age should have done by now. But we (I, at least) have committed to doing it now. And it actually feels OK. Sorry, mom, but I am parting with some of your things, finally. I wish your grandkids wanted some of these treasures. They don’t, but I’m keeping your favorite knife, and yes, it’s a good one.

Our past addresses include: Seattle: 723 Federal, 742 10th; the pool in Houston, Robinhood in Houston; somewhere in Bellevue; in Seattle: 13th Ave, a different address on Federal Ave, our first house, the duplex, the boat, 59th St apt, 59th St condo; then the Skagit house; back in Seattle: 6501 condo, 1120 Spring, 900 University; briefly Enumclaw; and now Olympia. Eighteen addresses in 58 years. That’s a lot of moving. Our first three apartments were furnished, so we just moved clothes and dishes. That doesn’t seem to be a thing today – furnished apartments, but it was good when we started out. 

Most of our moves had perceptible ambiguities from the outset. They would do for the moment, but there was no sense that they were final. Then we moved to a retirement community that we assumed would be our last and final address. But no. Seven years in, we both felt the need to leave. Part was the neighborhood that had changed so much during our time there. Part was just the realization that I was constrained in uncomfortable ways, part was the fact that it no longer worked for us when my husband gave up his driver’s license. We moved closer to recreation areas that we liked, but we knew it couldn’t be our last address.

It took less time than we expected for us to crave a walkable neighborhood. We had always opted to live in walkable neighborhoods, then we didn’t, and we soon realized that we’d made a mistake. So now, Olympia. And a very walkable neighborhood in Olympia. Across the street from the West Bay of Budd Inlet. Turn left to get to cafes, stores, a bakery,  and a grocery store; turn right to get to free concerts and the farmers’ market. Look south to the state Capitol, north to the Olympic mountains. Can’t drive? Buses are free and easy to access; Uber and Lyft are nearby; there are small stores, big stores, open space and forests and streams nearby. Could this be our last address? Yes, could be, but we’ve learned that we don’t really know for sure. 

So, we have changed our view. What about changing our point of view. Well, as in most places, the chatter I hear here is decidedly one-sided. Granted, I have only met a fraction of the residents here, and I gradually want to engage more of them in conversation. But Olympia, as a community, is perhaps bluer than even Seattle. (Is that possible?) So I might have trouble finding people who inhabit the “radical center,” which is where I position myself. Still, I practice “I Statements” in discussions to avoid making people who want to disagree feel uncomfortable. I suspect there are other centrists who are just too bashful to engage. 

What I always hope to find is someone who is well informed on an issue I know little about (or even on one I know more about) who can talk me out of my leanings, whether left or right, without being obnoxious! “I never thought of it that way,” is something I enjoy saying. Does that seem strange? 

So much about the setting we’re living in now is calming, restorative, just all around pleasant. Will the people be engaging and uplifting? I think so, but I value my online connections in case they’re not. 

People Are Opting Out

People are opting out. Of life. I wonder why. Can we blame it all on Covid? No, I don’t think so. Yes, I think Covid threw a monkey wrench into life as we knew it. But if it hadn’t been Covid, I think it would have been something else.

For sure, the interruption to our social life is having an impact. Not feeling comfortable eating out in a busy, popular cafe is truly a downer. And I heard today that after a large, maskless meeting of CDC employees last week, 35 of them soon came down with Covid. So masking up in big groups or small rooms is tedious, but that hasn’t pushed me over the edge.

Everyone has a tipping point, and I felt like I reached mine last week. I was across the street for an eye exam and noticed that the very convenient, very helpful eye-ware shop was shuttered. Grrr, I thought. Decisions from much higher up, I was told. (Much higher up, in this case, means the bosses of the very large Catholic institution that now runs the show.)

But that wasn’t what did me in. Rather it was the discovery a few days later that the hospital gift shop was also being closed. WTF? Do the bishops disapprove of shopping? Do they not know that shopping is therapy? Do they not know that patients’ families need a distraction? Do they not know that we all need a treat or a magazine or a card for someone now and then? The gift shop was run by volunteers with about a half of a staff position or less doing oversight. WTF, indeed! 

Perhaps I could survive the loss of these two very handy businesses if they weren’t coming on top of the loss of Macy’s, Columbia Sportswear, Bed, Bath and Beyond, Chico’s, the neighborhood branch of our bank, a bunch of retail at Pacific Place, the pharmacy next to Gelatiamo, and retailers that I never patronized, but other people did and they helped keep downtown alive. 

Supposedly, there are more people downtown this week because Amazon said to show up at the office or else. Perhaps that means something now that even the Amazons of the world are laying people off. Granted, the people who work at Amazon don’t exactly support my kind of retail, but somehow they help the world look alive, even in their nerdy zombie state. There was certainly more traffic today when I managed to run two errands during morning and evening rush hours by mistake. Note to self: avoid rush hours again!

I don’t think the lack of shopping options is the primary factor leading to the deep pessimism that I and others are feeling. It’s pretty easy to thump the table and grumble at the loss of a gift shop, but I’m confident that the pessimism derives from more serious problems. Such as the wildly dysfunctional national government, the wildly stupid extremes of the culture wars, the wildly ridiculous length of being on hold for answers to the simplest of questions. And construction, still going on everywhere! And the transit interruptions, and the absence of oatmeal in the Bistro, and  the impossible wait times for elevator repairs, and the endless timelines for  “corridor refurbishment,” and the incomplete remodel of our main meeting room such that the audio doesn’t work on one day and the lighting doesn’t work on another day, and no, the drapes are not here yet.

Nothing ever gets finished. The finish line might as well not exist: no one will ever get to it. 

Hence pessimism. For older folks such as myself, this is taking a toll. You know things are bad when people are opting to end their lives by VSED – that’s “Voluntarily Stopping Eating and Drinking” to you youngsters out there. It is not an easy way to die. But guns are not allowed in my retirement community. Frankly, I’d buy a gun and break that rule before starving myself to death. Seriously, what are they going to do to me? Kick me out? Ha. That’s the whole point of the exercise. 

I actually am not at that degree of pessimism yet, but it is sad to see that others are. And I am well and truly frustrated with the state of the world. I’ve been well and truly frustrated for quite a while, but Ukraine just did me in, even more than the way we mucked up Covid. Could we please just enable Ukraine to win this war within my lifetime? Please! Just win it! 

Well, I live in Seattle, and our hockey team, the Kraken, are in the second round of the playoffs – in just their second year of existence. I see why some people tune out the news and tune in to sports. But then once the game is over, the corridors are still not finished, there is still no oatmeal in the Bistro, Madison Street is still a mess, and the AV system in Anderson Hall will likely never be complete. 

So we are heading out of town for a few days in eastern Washington. I don’t care if it rains or snows or we are blinded by the sun. We are outa here, folks. See ya later!

Your Neighbors Are Not Fine

A week ago, I was on my way home from an appointment with my psychologist. Yes, I need therapy. And, not your business. In any event, I took light rail to Westlake, then walked up the hill from there. I met a friend in Freeway Park, we chatted a bit, then I decided to be brave and ask her a question I rarely ask people. 

Her husband died last winter, but I’ve seen her out and about in our retirement community since then, and she looks “fine.” By this, I mean that she is dressed as smartly as ever, seems always to have a destination in mind, and simply looks as she always has. But frankly, I’m curious about how people deal with the death of a spouse, so I asked her how she is with life alone. Without hesitating, she said, “I hate it. I really hate it.” 

“Wow,” I said, “I’m glad I asked because you always look fine, but I don’t know how you could be.” “No,” she said, “I really miss him. I miss the things we used to do together. Everyday, I miss him. I don’t like this at all.” 

Not an hour later, I was leaving the laundry room on our floor and bumped into another friend. I say friend, but in neither case was this someone I would call on for help. Yet, we are friendly to each other, and we chat from time to time. Again, I asked this friend how she was. “I’m finally starting to feel more like myself again,” she said. The last time I’d seen her, it was near noon, and she’d just gotten dressed and left her apartment, still looking a bit disheveled. This time, she was brighter and told me she’d started taking an antidepressant. A closer friend than I had told her she really seemed depressed and needed to get help. Fortunately, she trusted this friend enough that she followed through and did find help. She said the pills were kicking in, and she was doing better.

Those two encounters made me wonder how many other people I pass in the halls or see in the dining room or lounge each day are not “fine” no matter what they say. I rarely tell people when I’m down in the dumps, and I’m sure most of us are pretty good at passing for fine. So how is it that we can not see that some of us need more than a “Hi, how are you?” in passing. 

Many of the 500 residents here had friends or relatives living here when they moved in. We did not. Neither did the friend who was depressed. And we did not find it easy to make new friends here. Yes, there are plenty of activities that we can join in. We have exercise classes, speakers and programs, committees galore. (That is we did until Covid. We’re just starting to get back to a semblance of normal.) I’ve volunteered for a few things, but I haven’t made close friends from those ventures. I have one good new friend here. One. How many others are in the same boat? 

I’m not sure if there’s a fix for this conundrum. But I think we should ponder it. Residents who moved to Seattle to be near children or grandchildren still need friends here. Unlike college, when we were all looking for friends, not everyone here needs new friends. But those of us who do, don’t have an easy way of advertising that fact. And people who’ve moved in to join an existing cadre of friends or family don’t need to reach out. 

At the very least, I will try to be more attentive when I ask how people are doing. Perhaps I’ll follow up with another question or two and give them an opportunity to open up a bit if they choose to do so. And maybe I’ll open up a bit. Truth be told, I don’t always share much during down times when I could really use a friend, and I’m guessing others don’t either. So I will need to experiment. I’ll report back.

Stop Fearing Covid?

Is it time to stop fearing Covid? Rip off our masks and get some hugs? No one is really getting sick anymore, so let’s get back to normal.

Wrong. If you’re double-vaxxed and double boosted, you’re not going to die of Covid. You’re unlikely to wind up in a hospital. If you’re fortunate like us, you’ll test negative a week from when you first tested positive. But even mild Covid cases can still bring lingering effects. These might not qualify as Long Covid, but even post-Covid hives (yes, that would be me) can be annoying enough to make me regret our lapse in judgement that led to our trip to the ER and subsequent treatments. 

Hives? Yup. When your immune system ramps up, your body can ramp up masses of red blotches here, there, and everywhere. Extra doses of antihistamines are helping to keep the annoying itching to a level I can live with. But I’m not sure this is my only after-effect. My legs are reluctant to walk; waiting for the elevator is more tiring than it used to be. I’m just not sure I’ve fully recovered. 

I’m old enough that I can never tell why these things are happening. Is my body embarking on the long, slow winding down process that happens when people near 80? Is my mild case of Covid going to speed up that process? Will I be fine in another week? Time will tell.

You’ll see a lot of references to Long Covid if you’re following sites that have been tracking Covid since 2020. But I’m not at all sure that “the economy” has incorporated Long Covid into its planning. I heard an interview with the CEO of United Airlines recently; he said they’ve added 5% to the number of crew members they need to have available to avoid cancelling flights. That increase is due to people taking days off for acute Covid. But what if Long Covid reduces the pool of people who are employable at any point in time? Raising wages won’t make them healthy enough to return to work.

And what about health care? Today I read that our local trauma center is turning away new patients because people who could be discharged to skilled nursing facilities can’t leave because there are not enough beds out there. Is this because of inadequate pay (yes) or Covid (yes) or Long Covid (yes). There are lots of “Help Wanted” signs around, and if you’ve called a clinic and been put on hold, you’ll know there are severe staffing challenges in some sectors. Of course we need to pay more for workers who care for ailing elders. These jobs are often held by immigrants, and immigration has not been opened up after Trump’s restrictions. Why is that? But with or without new immigrants, wages for these workers are simply a disgrace. 

My rant is winding down, but the answer is yes, we still need to avoid Covid. Good luck on that score.