by Alicia Hugg
Originally published in the Stockton Record on July 23, 1995, but still relevant in today's sagging economy...
He stood there talking in his nifty blazer with the emblem that clearly identified him as a real estate agent.
"But I knew you in your other life. You know, the one when you were a school teacher?"
"Aye, lass. That was a long time ago. These times and our plummeting economy mandate that you've got to have at least two or three careers before you leave this earth. Life's not like it used to be."
"Yes. And like Streisand warbles: 'Used to be's don't count anymore, they just lie on the floor 'til you sweep them away.' Do you still teach piano? I've got a couple of grandkids who could stand a few lessons. Me too, for that matter. Haven't played a decent note since Ms. Elebeck tried to revive my piano skills at the old Ebenezer A.M.E. Church, when I was a kid."
"Yep. Still teach. Don't think I'll ever retire. Can't afford to anymore."
"You got that right."
Truth is retirement--like the legendary old grey mare--"ain't what she used to be." According to an article in the July-August issue of the American Association of Retired Persons Bulletin, many men (and, I strongly suspect, women) are now retiring to another job while still collecting pensions from companies long served. This phenomenon is being driven by economical as well as psychological needs, and the fact that Americans are living longer than ever before.
Add to this the growing reluctance by many employers to include health care coverage in retirement packages, and we see ourselves becoming a nation where managed health care is the order of the day.
It's a long stretch between 55 and 65, when Medicare kicks in, and according to most of today's economic soothsayers, by the time me and the Baby Boomers reach 65, the Medicare coffers will be coughing up their last few bucks.
Besides, who wants to retire at age 55 to a mundane existence that promises thirty years of thumb twiddling? Not I, says this Gramma.
While managed care is being touted as the universal answer to all of our health care problems, many Americans--spoiled by years of picking and choosing their own medical providers--are reluctant to move into this rapidly emerging mode of health care provision.
But evidence is mounting that the concept, which stresses prevention as the best safeguard against physical deterioration, is working. We are increasingly committed to improving the quality of our lives. We frequent aerobics classes, purchase exercise videos, dance and diet our lives away, all the while embracing fitness icons like Oprah and Richard Simmons in our single-minded frenzy to "get back in shape."
The other evening while hobbling out of my Jazzercize class after an hour of jumping and stretching to one upbeat song after another, I looked at the graceful creature next to me and said:
"I want to look like you when I grow up."
The thin , incredibly toned woman just looked back at me and smiled.
"When you're my age," she replied in a slow, well-modulated voice, "you're lucky to even make it to these classes, let alone participate!"
Outside my second story window a full moon reigns in the evening sky. The harsh sounds of a helicopter interrupt my reverie, and I recall the earlier events of this evening when I pulled into my driveway to find another thin, but disheveled creature actually rummaging through our garbage can.
Back on the block again, economic reality is a homeless female.
Sister, can you spare a dime?
