Or, I could just bang on the drum all day

“Are you one of those guys who plans to work until he’s 80?” asked a friend the other day. She asked because I told her I wouldn’t be able to meet her for coffee the following day because I had to work. As to her entreaty, I suggested that if she would like to lay some huge sums of money upon me I would happily retire tomorrow – I think.

So, I still work. Albeit on a part-time basis, and that is reality. The people of my age who don’t work are those ‘elites’ like politicians and bureaucrats who take full-advantage of an odd dichotomy in our society that deems that some – in the employ of the government, hence those who make the rules – are worthy of handsome pensions. Others, like the rest of us, are scum and unworthy of public purse supplements. We only get to pay for those pensions for the elite via our taxes.

About that two-tiered society, all I can say is WTF? How did that come about? How was it deemed that a collection of drones who probably don’t provide so very much get to spend their later years in luxury?

Oh, don t worry about it. I’m not bitter. I mean, when I got divorced the first time I was fully entitled to attach half my schoolteacher wife’s pension (she retired at 55, BTW), but pride forced me to refrain.

God, I’m a noble bastard.

Since my second wife had scarcely a pot in which to wee there was nothing I could attach from her. In fact, she still owes me, but that would be quibbling on my part. See ‘noble bastard’ reference.

Whew, now that I have that off my chest, let’s go back to the whole retirement thing. On this particular day, February 8th, 2009, I am too young to be retired, and have nothing but contempt and pity – yes, pity – for those who embrace that Freedom 55 myth. You people have lots of talent and education and if your health is good, get your asses out there and do something useful. Wandering a golf course all day, every day, just to put in time until Happy Hour does not qualify as useful.

Am I disparaging these people? You bet I am. I have the right. It’s my blog and I don’t get one of those big pensions.

I used to have investments for my ‘golden years’. I mean, I still do, but I’m afraid to ask what they look like. So, I still work at both counseling and freelancing, and frankly, I like it. Part time gives me freedom to work on my own stuff and, considering the state of the economy, Wendy and I are still swimming in good fortune -- as long as she keeps working, that is. But, she's a whole lot younger than I am, so you see that was part of my retirement plan, too. I didn't suggest I was 'completely' noble.

Yes, that is the truth. I am either very warped or utterly conditioned, but I like suiting up and getting out once in a while. It keeps me vital. And, the fact that there are those who still believe I have marketable skills – and I do – validates me.

I don’t mean to disparage all of those who get those big, fat %$#@&& princely government pensions. I know of people, and respect them hugely, who have taken those pension bucks and run off, no not to the south of France or Tahiti, but to Africa and other third world spots and are giving of themselves unstintingly to better the lives of those in need. One woman I know (and I think she and her husband should be sainted, and could be since they’re both good Catholics) uses her retirement resources and her husbands Air Force pension to finance her work in orphanages in Romania and the Ukraine. She is in her mid-70s.

What I do mean is that life is not over at a certain age, so I, as long as health permits, will be happy to do a bit of work. I also want the freedom to also head off to the south of France, should finances permit. God, that big pension would sure help there.

So, back to my friend; she suggested that she too would likely be working until she was 80 then, when she retires, we’d finally be free to have coffee whenever we chose.

“You’re 20 years younger than I am,” I said. “Will you help me get to the coffee joint? Provided I’m not still working, that is.”