The sun has fallen behind the trees as my Gay Old Soulmate and I sit here on the deck in our little queer retreat cottage. If all goes well, we soon will leave behind the house we have lived in for twenty-seven years in the city we have lived in for thirty-two. We will move to a different house in a different town a few miles away from where we sit now.
Only an occasional bird call or distant dog’s bark breaks the silence. My soul has lived in unsettled quiet for some time now. Continue reading
Staff Recognition Award, nineteen hundred and ninety-four: the framed certificate came home with me last week. Twenty years after having been awarded that honor, I retired from the department that nominated me for it.
Gay men my age frequently identified with the stereotype, “the best little boy in the world.” Having grown up in a world that labeled us unworthy, we did all in our power to prove ourselves worthy. Knowing in our closeted hearts that we could never meet expectations, we exceeded expectations in our public lives. Even after we came out, those habits continued.
I had not planned to spend my working days as a secretary or administrator in an office unrelated to my interests. Continue reading
Retirement decisions still furrow my brow and clench my stomach. How much in savings, assents, and retirement funds will be enough to live through retirement? How much will we need? How will we know that we have enough to take the step into retired living?
Retired friends urge me not to wait. Do it now, they say. Most of them come from a different generation. Their professions provided defined-benefits–some with COLAs. They bought their homes early enough and rode the housing bubble high enough to pay off their homes with significant equity before they retired.
My generation bought homes later and saw equity shrink. Our retirement plans are on the 401k model. They rise and fall with the whims of Wall Street. And despite politicians’ blind faith in “free markets,” I hardly trust Wall Street to give a damn whether I end up dying naked in an alley or dying comfortably in a “mature adult” community. Continue reading