Jonathan Clements's Blog, page 79
May 26, 2024
Selling My Soul
THE GLINT OF a polished mahogany desk, the thrill of a closing handshake—that's the image they paint of being a financial advisor. But for many of us starting out, the reality was a cramped cubicle and the relentless pressure to churn out variable annuity sales. For five years, I was a cog in that machine, and let me tell you, the shine wears off fast.
The Allure of the Annuity. Fresh out of college, I needed a job, and financial services seemed promising. My firm pushed variable annuities—these investment vehicles touted as retirement silver bullets. They promised growth potential tied to the stock market, guaranteed income streams, and tax advantages. The idea was to build a trusting relationship with clients, understand their needs, and present the annuity as the perfect solution.
The Coaching Cacophony. Training was intense. We drilled sales scripts, practiced overcoming objections, and learned to navigate the murky waters of financial jargon. The emphasis was on features, not drawbacks. Surrender charges, high fees, and the inherent market risk—these were glossed over. Our success hinged on portraying annuities as a one-size-fits-all magic potion.
The Clientele Charade. We were encouraged to target nearing-retirement individuals. The script emphasized security and peace of mind. But more often than not, we ended up meeting folks with a hodgepodge of financial concerns. Anxious pre-retirees worried about health care costs. Widows grappling with sudden financial responsibility. The cookie-cutter annuity pitch just didn't resonate with their complex situations.
The Pressure Playbook. The real kicker was the relentless sales pressure. Quotas loomed large, and commissions were hefty. There was an unspoken (sometimes spoken) expectation to prioritize sales over genuine financial planning. This gnawed at me. I started questioning if I was truly helping people or simply pushing a product.
The Moral Minefield. The ethical tightrope walk became ever-present. A retired teacher, hesitant but trusting, poured her life savings into an annuity—a decision I increasingly doubted was in her best interest. Another client, a blue-collar worker nearing retirement, seemed more suited for a simpler, lower-cost investment strategy. Yet, the hefty commission on the annuity was tempting. These situations ate at me, eroding the initial belief that I was making a positive impact.
The Cracks Begin to Show. The internal conflict started to manifest. Sleepless nights, a constant knot of anxiety in my stomach—these were the unwelcome companions to my “successful” sales record. My colleagues, for the most part, seemed numb to the ethical implications. Their focus was on the next sale, the next paycheck. But for me, the facade crumbled.
The Breaking Point. One evening, I sat across from a couple on the brink of retirement. They were trusting, eager to secure their future. As I launched into my practiced annuity spiel, a voice inside me screamed "Stop!" Here were people counting on me, and I was about to potentially saddle them with an unsuitable product, all for a commission. I choked back the script, apologized for my time, and gently suggested they seek a fee-based financial advisor who could create a personalized plan.
The fallout was predictable. My manager, initially surprised, then launched into a guilt trip about lost opportunities and missed bonuses. But for the first time, I felt a sense of clarity. I quit that day.
Life After Annuities. The transition wasn't easy. Finding a new role required explaining the gap in my resume—the "variable annuity detour" as I came to call it. Eventually, I landed a job at a reputable financial planning firm. Here, the focus is on genuine financial well-being, not product quotas. We create customized plans, considering each client's unique needs and risk tolerance. There are no hidden fees or pressure to sell specific products.
Looking Back: Lessons Learned. My experience in the variable annuity industry was a disillusioning one, but it was also a valuable lesson. It taught me the importance of ethical financial advice and the dangers of prioritizing sales over genuine client needs. Here's what I want people to take away:
Buyer Beware. Variable annuities can be complex instruments. Do your research, understand the fees and risks, and seek advice from a qualified, fee-based financial advisor who puts your interests first.
Ask Questions. Don't be afraid to challenge what a salesperson tells you. Get everything in writing and compare different options before making a decision.
Financial Planning, not Product Pushing. True financial planning takes a comprehensive look at your situation and goals. It's not about selling you a specific product.
The above was created by Google Gemini based on this request: "Write an 800-word article about my life as a variable annuity salesman and why I quit." To read more about this experiment, check out Man vs. Machine.
The post Selling My Soul appeared first on HumbleDollar.
How to Buy Happiness
MONEY MAY NOT BUY happiness directly, but it can certainly be a powerful tool for creating a more fulfilling life. The key lies in spending strategically, focusing on experiences and investments that nurture well-being rather than fleeting pleasures. Here are five smart ways to leverage your finances for a happier you:
1. Invest in Experiences, Not Things. Research shows that experiences bring us more long-term joy than material possessions. Think about it: The thrill of a weekend getaway with friends or the excitement of learning a new skill likely linger in your memory far longer than the satisfaction of a new gadget. Experiences create stories, strengthen bonds, and foster personal growth—all ingredients for a happier life.
Here's how to make experiences a priority:
Plan adventures, big or small. It doesn't have to be a luxurious trip around the world. Consider weekend hikes, local museum visits, or attending a concert by your favorite band.
Focus on shared experiences. Happiness is often amplified when shared with loved ones. Plan outings with friends and family, or take a cooking class together.
Invest in learning. Learning a new language, enrolling in a photography course, or taking a pottery class can be incredibly rewarding. Not only will you gain new skills, but you might also meet interesting people and discover hidden passions.
2. Buy Time Back (When it Makes Sense). Our time is precious, and feeling constantly rushed can be a major happiness drain. Consider allocating some of your budget towards freeing up your schedule for things that truly matter. Here are some ways to do this:
Delegate or outsource tasks. Can you hire a cleaning service or a grocery delivery company? Is there a way to automate some of your household chores? Freeing yourself from tedious tasks can give you more time for relaxation, hobbies, and spending time with loved ones.
Utilize time-saving services. Consider meal-prep kits or laundry services if they fit your budget. Saving time on mundane tasks allows you to focus on what brings you joy.
3. Spend on Others for a Happiness Boost. Studies have shown that spending money on others can actually make us happier than spending it on ourselves. This phenomenon, known as prosocial spending, strengthens social bonds and fosters a sense of purpose. Here are some ways to incorporate prosocial spending into your life:
Treat loved ones. Surprise a friend with a thoughtful gift or take your parents out for a nice dinner. Acts of generosity nurture relationships and strengthen the feeling of connection.
Donate to causes you care about. Supporting charities and organizations that align with your values creates a sense of purpose and can make a positive impact on the world.
Practice random acts of kindness. Leave a generous tip for your waiter, buy coffee for the person behind you in line, or volunteer your time for a local cause. Small gestures can create a ripple effect of happiness.
4. Invest in Your Well-Being: Mind, Body, and Soul. Financial security is a significant contributor to overall well-being. However, prioritizing your physical and mental health can lead to a happier and more fulfilling life. Here are some ways to make well-being a financial priority:
Invest in preventative health care. Regular checkups and healthy habits can save you money in the long run. Consider gym memberships or fitness classes if they motivate you to stay active.
Prioritize healthy eating. Eating nutritious meals doesn't have to be expensive. Plan your meals, cook at home more often, and focus on whole, unprocessed foods.
Invest in mental health support. Therapy can be a valuable tool for managing stress, anxiety, and other mental health challenges. Consider budgeting for therapy sessions or online resources.
5. Invest in Your Future Self. Financial security contributes significantly to happiness. Here are some ways to use your money to build a brighter future:
Pay off debt. High-interest debt can be a major source of stress. Prioritize paying off credit cards and other high-interest loans to gain financial freedom.
Start an emergency fund. Having a financial cushion for unexpected expenses like car repairs or medical bills can provide peace of mind and prevent financial hardship.
Invest for the long term. Contribute to a retirement plan or other investment vehicles to ensure you have a comfortable future.
Remember: Happiness is a journey, not a destination. The key is to find a balance between financial security and spending on things that bring you joy. By implementing these smart strategies, you can leverage your finances to create a happier and more fulfilling life.
The above was created by Google Gemini based on this request: "Write an 800-word article on five smart ways to use money to buy more happiness." To read more about this experiment, check out Man vs. Machine.
The post How to Buy Happiness appeared first on HumbleDollar.
May 25, 2024
No Advantage for Me
The Allure of Medicare Advantage. Initially, the promise of Medicare Advantage seemed like a beacon of hope. The plans, often advertised with zero-dollar premiums and additional benefits not covered by traditional Medicare, such as dental and vision care, appeared to be a panacea for my health care needs. However, the glossy brochures and persuasive sales pitches masked the underlying limitations that would soon come to light.
A Harrowing Health Care Experience. My disenchantment with Medicare Advantage began with a routine medical procedure that quickly spiraled into a nightmare. Post-surgery complications necessitated frequent visits to specialists, but the narrow network of providers under my plan turned each appointment into a bureaucratic battle. Prior authorizations, referrals, and denials became part of my daily vernacular, as I struggled to navigate the red tape that entangled my access to care.
The situation reached a crescendo when a critical medication was inexplicably removed from the plan’s formulary mid-year, leaving me with the stark choice of paying exorbitant out-of-pocket costs or forgoing treatment. It was a wake-up call to the harsh realities of a system that seemed more concerned with cost-cutting than patient well-being.
The Medigap Mirage. Disillusioned, I sought refuge in the stability of traditional Medicare, only to discover that the transition was not as straightforward as I had hoped. Traditional Medicare, with its wider network and freedom to see any doctor who accepts Medicare, was the lifeline I desperately needed. However, the financial security that Medigap policies offered was just out of reach.
Medigap plans, designed to cover the gaps in traditional Medicare, such as deductibles and coinsurance, require medical underwriting if not applied for during the initial enrollment period or under certain special circumstances. My health conditions, which had deteriorated during my time with Medicare Advantage, now became the very barriers that prevented me from qualifying for a Medigap plan.
Caught in a Health Care Conundrum. The irony was not lost on me; the health care system that was supposed to support me in my time of need was now the source of my greatest distress. I was caught in a conundrum: continue with a Medicare Advantage plan that had repeatedly failed to meet my needs or switch to traditional Medicare and face potentially ruinous health care costs without the safety net of a Medigap policy.
A Call for Change. My experience is far from unique. It serves as a stark reminder of the need for systemic reform. The complexity of Medicare Advantage plans, with their ever-changing rules and restrictions, must be addressed. Moreover, the process of obtaining a Medigap policy should be more accessible, ensuring that no one is left vulnerable due to timing or health status.
Conclusion. As I reflect on my journey, I am left with a sense of resilience and a determination to advocate for change. The path to a more equitable health care system is fraught with obstacles, but it is a journey worth taking. For now, I navigate the maze, armed with knowledge and the hope that my story will shed light on the shadows of a system in need of illumination.
This article serves as a narrative to highlight the personal impact of navigating the complexities of Medicare Advantage and the challenges of securing a Medigap plan. It’s important to remember that individual experiences may vary, and it’s always recommended to consult with a health care professional or a Medicare counselor for personalized advice. If you need further assistance or more detailed information, feel free to ask.
The above was created by Microsoft Copilot based on this request: "Write an 800-word article on how a bad experience with health care soured me on Medicare Advantage but how I couldn't swap to traditional Medicare because I didn't qualify for a Medigap plan." To read more about this experiment, check out Man vs. Machine.
The post No Advantage for Me appeared first on HumbleDollar.
May 24, 2024
Man vs. Machine
COULD HUMBLEDOLLAR be replaced by a website chock-full of articles created using artificial intelligence? The short answer: It would be remarkably easy—and I fear readers wouldn’t object, especially if they didn’t know how the articles were generated.
To show what’s possible, I requested eight personal-finance articles from three freely available artificial intelligence (AI) tools, ChatGPT, Google’s Gemini and Microsoft’s Copilot. The first of those articles is published today, with the other seven appearing over the next four days.
The most onerous part was coming up with topics for the eight articles—and, trust me, it wasn’t exactly heavy-lifting. In fact, the mischievous part of me rather enjoyed it. I did no editing on the resulting articles beyond some formatting changes and a few slight tweaks to fit HumbleDollar’s style, such as turning "healthcare" into "health care." None of this took much time. Indeed, if I didn’t take too many bathroom breaks, I figure I could have created and scheduled an entire month’s worth of articles in a single day.
Is there a personal-finance site that already does this? I don’t know. Should we be concerned about the possibility? In the articles I requested, I didn’t see any obviously wrong financial information.
Instead, I have a different concern: These AI engines are more than happy to create fabricated stories. Take a look at today’s article. I cooked up the whole stuck-in-an-elevator-with-Jack-Bogle scenario in my head, and the AI engines took the notion and ran with it.
Regular readers will know that HumbleDollar articles are frequently built around the financial experiences of the site’s writers. As I often tell contributors, “You may not be a personal-finance expert, but you are an expert on your own life.” Now, however, it seems we can substitute fiction for real-life experience. Should we be bothered? I am. But I may be in a minority. In fact, I love the Jack-in-the-elevator story. I just wish it were true.
When I started playing around with the AI engines, I toyed with having them generate a dozen articles, and then running them over the course of a week using fictitious bylines, to see if anybody would notice. I even considered creating a new contributor, and posting regular articles by him or her, to see if readers caught on.
But I didn’t do this—because I consider it unethical to pass off machine-written articles as penned by humans. Still, I suspect I could have got away with it.
I found that ChatGPT and Google Gemini were more likely to spit out the sort of articles that HumbleDollar publishes, while Microsoft Copilot resisted the personal journalism that this site is known for. That explains why just one of the eight articles you’ll see in the days ahead comes from Copilot.
Is there a role for AI in personal-finance journalism? I could see using AI to generate the first draft of articles, which would then be scrubbed to remove inaccurate or fictitious information. But I think good ethics would necessitate disclosing that the article's first draft was created using AI.
Ethics aside, are there any drawbacks to AI-generated articles? The writing style leaves a little to be desired, but I’m probably pickier than most.
In fact, I’ve tried using all three engines to “lightly edit” a few of the less polished article submissions I’ve received. I was most happy with the output from ChatGPT. Even then, in the “light” editing process, the writer’s voice tends to disappear.
Is AI some sort of existential threat? It doesn’t strike me that way. It’s a tool—one that’s new and hence generating lots of debate, but which will soon be as commonplace as cellphones and Alexa devices. Still, in my little world of personal-finance writing, AI undoubtedly offers the chance to behave badly. Humans being humans, I'm entirely confident that this temptation will prove irresistible to some.
Jonathan Clements is the founder and editor of HumbleDollar. Follow him on X @ClementsMoney and on Facebook, and check out his earlier articles.The post Man vs. Machine appeared first on HumbleDollar.
The Lift I Needed
The day had started like any other, filled with the hustle and bustle of office life. After a productive morning, I stepped into the elevator, intending to make a quick descent to the lobby. However, fate had other plans as the elevator abruptly came to a halt between floors, leaving me stranded with a mix of confusion and mild panic.
As I attempted to summon help, I noticed a calm presence beside me—Jack Bogle. Despite the unexpected circumstances, he remained composed, a testament to his unflappable demeanor and seasoned wisdom. Seizing the opportunity, I struck up a conversation with him, eager to glean insights from his decades of experience in the financial industry.
Our dialogue quickly shifted from the mundane to the profound, as we delved into the core principles of investment philosophy. One of the first lessons Jack imparted was the importance of adopting a long-term perspective when it comes to investing. In a world plagued by short-termism and instant gratification, he emphasized the need to focus on the fundamentals and resist the temptation to chase fleeting trends.
"Time in the market beats timing the market," he quipped, underscoring the futility of trying to predict short-term market movements. Instead, he advocated for a patient, disciplined approach that prioritizes consistency and prudence over impulsive decision-making.
Another key lesson I learned from Jack Bogle was the significance of embracing simplicity in investment strategy. His pioneering work in index investing revolutionized the industry by challenging the prevailing wisdom of active management. By advocating for low-cost, passively managed index funds, he demonstrated that complex investment strategies often yield inferior results compared to a straightforward, diversified approach.
"Keep it simple, keep it low-cost," he advised, driving home the importance of minimizing fees and expenses, which can erode investment returns over time. This mantra resonated deeply with me, reaffirming the notion that successful investing need not be overly complicated or convoluted.
Moreover, our conversation shed light on the ethical dimension of investing, a topic close to Jack Bogle's heart. Throughout his career, he championed the principles of stewardship and fiduciary duty, advocating for greater transparency and accountability in the financial industry.
"Always put the investor's interests first," he stressed, highlighting the importance of integrity and trust in fostering long-term relationships with clients. This emphasis on ethical conduct served as a poignant reminder that financial success should never come at the expense of ethical principles or moral values.
As we awaited rescue from our temporary confinement, I couldn't help but marvel at the serendipity of the situation. What began as a mundane elevator ride had evolved into a transformative encounter that left an indelible mark on my approach to investing.
As the doors finally opened and we stepped out into the lobby, I felt a sense of gratitude for the unexpected opportunity to learn from one of the greatest minds in finance. From the importance of adopting a long-term perspective to the value of simplicity and ethics in investment strategy, the lessons I gleaned from Jack Bogle continue to shape my approach to wealth management and financial planning.
In conclusion, getting stuck in an elevator with Jack Bogle was more than just a chance encounter—it was a masterclass in investment philosophy and a reminder of the timeless principles that underpin successful wealth accumulation. As I reflect on that memorable experience, I am reminded of the profound impact that moments of serendipity can have on our lives, shaping us into wiser, more informed investors and individuals.
The above was created by ChatGPT based on this request: "Write an 800-word article about the time I got stuck in an elevator with Jack Bogle and the investment lessons I learned." To read more about this experiment, check out Man vs. Machine.
The post The Lift I Needed appeared first on HumbleDollar.
Where’s the Value?
I'VE NEVER BEEN MUCH of a collector. As a kid, I tried collecting comic books for a short time. I found that, after I read them, I had little use for them. I stored the comic books in an open box in my closet, where their translucent sleeves attracted a thick blanket of dust but little interest.
Later in life, I started a small wine collection. I didn’t get too far. It turns out I drank the wine at a rate far quicker than I acquired new vintages. At least I didn’t need to dust the bottles.
Collectibles like comic books, wine, works of art, baseball cards and cryptocurrencies are considered alternative investments, and quite different from shares of publicly traded businesses.
A collectible has value solely because a group of collectors believes it has value. Its price fluctuates based on a number of factors like uniqueness, cultural significance, condition and prevailing fashion trends. A collectible’s value is what we might call “culturally constructed.” A collectible doesn’t “do anything,” so it has no intrinsic value—only a price.
Arguably, the U.S. dollar is a collectible of sorts, especially when it’s held in cash form rather than invested in, say, a certificate of deposit or a savings bond. The dollar has value because large numbers of people agree to use it as a medium of exchange. But one can’t eat dollars for nourishment, or plant it to bear fruit, or grow it into future building material. If we collectively stopped believing in the dollar, it would cease to have value. But the dollar’s status as the world’s reserve currency imbues it with a particular value that makes it quite different than a collection of Pokémon cards or your mother’s closet full of Beanie Babies.
Unlike a dollar, which as of this writing will earn you more than 5% interest in a money market fund, bitcoin earns nothing. Zero. It isn’t backed by any central bank or government authority. It has been likened to a “pet rock” by JPMorgan CEO Jamie Dimon.
Bitcoin doesn't do anything. It’s a purely speculative bet on some fantastical deregulated future in which the governments of the world allow fiat currencies like the dollar, yen, yuan and euro to be “disrupted”—in other words, replaced— by a privatized collectors’ item. Bitcoin embodies the worldview of teenage boys who spend way too much time playing the video game Grand Theft Auto and opening loot boxes in Counter-Strike: Global Offensive. To borrow from an old Dead Kennedys song, bitcoin is “anarchy for sale.” Yet there are plenty of buyers and sellers who have created a market for the digital token and sent its price to the moon based on a story they tell themselves.
Gold is another example of a pet rock. Fear the crypto bros and their artificial intelligence bots are ushering in the end of the world? Buy gold, some say. Why? Gold has withstood the test of time as a store of value, they say.
While gold is a precious metal and has various industrial uses, it too fails the intrinsic value test. Gold does more than bitcoin, in the sense that it has an actual use-value, but that’s not saying a lot. The amount of gold on the planet is limited, which makes it rare, but scarcity alone doesn’t imbue something with intrinsic value.
In contrast to both gold and bitcoin, a wheat farm has intrinsic value because it produces a yield of wheat. People eat wheat to survive. The price paid for a bushel of wheat fluctuates based on a host of factors, but the farm’s value is derived from its capacity to produce wheat. In other words, the farm does something. The farm is an enterprise that produces a commodity. The farm also has the potential to grow and increase its yield of wheat. Unlike a collectible, in which price and value are indistinguishable, the farm has an intrinsic value potentially divorced from its market price.
For example, the market could determine that the world is oversaturated with wheat this year. A farmer who wanted to sell shares of his or her farm might need to accept a lower price than if wheat was in high demand. But as long as the farm maintained its capacity to produce wheat, and wheat continues to be a staple of the human diet, the farm would continue to have some intrinsic value. This kind of discrepancy between the farm’s price and its intrinsic value provides opportunity for active investors.
While I’m not an active investor, I’d rather my total market index fund own shares of an enterprise like a wheat farm than a collection of pet rocks. The successful wheat farm not only produces regular earnings, but also it possesses the potential to increase those earnings as the business expands. Pet rocks, on the other hand, may appreciate in price based on the stories their owners and celebrity shills tell. But pet rocks can’t reproduce themselves, nor can they grow. They are, after all, just rocks.
Jamie Seckington grew up on the beaches of Southern California listening to punk rock and raging against the machine. Decades later, he now lives a quiet life in north Idaho and reads HumbleDollar regularly. He has learned to appreciate the many ironies that life offers. Jamie's previous article was Testing My Faith.
The post Where’s the Value? appeared first on HumbleDollar.
May 23, 2024
Waiting It Out
THOSE WHO REGULARLY read posts on Bogleheads.org—and I’m guessing a good chunk of HumbleDollar readers do—know that the Bogleheads’ philosophy is to:
Never time the markets.
Buy only broad-market index funds via either mutual funds or exchange-traded funds.
Invest 25% to 75% of a portfolio in stocks using such funds, with the rest in bonds, and thereafter rebalance as needed. How big a percentage should you put in stocks? That’s based on risk tolerance. The allocation should be the one that allows you to sleep at night.
The Bogleheads forum is built around the investment philosophy of the late John Bogle, Vanguard Group’s founder who launched the first index mutual fund in 1976. The strategy is simple and brilliant, and has been shown to outperform almost all active fund managers over the past several decades.
All that said, I’m going to admit that I haven’t stayed true to the Bogleheads approach for the past few years. When interest rates began to rise in early 2022, I started paring back my stock and bond investments.
Once Treasury bills and certificates of deposit began approaching, and sometimes exceeding, a 5% yield, I put almost all our portfolio into money market funds and, as of this writing, almost all that money remains there. My thinking is that getting that kind of yield essentially risk-free is good enough.
What’s more, and probably most important, my wife and I are almost 68 years old, fairly early in our retirement, and I don’t want our portfolio to take a double-digit hit in the event of a severe market correction. A Boglehead would call this sequence-of-return risk.
The simple fact is, I feel that stocks, particularly in the U.S., are overvalued, and I’m happy to wait for what I believe is an inevitable major market correction. Whether that happens in six months or six years, I plan to stay mostly in cash until then. I don’t feel the current risk is worth the reward.
Of course, this goes completely against Bogleheads thinking, and I won’t be surprised if I’m proven wrong and miss out on more market gains. Still, I believe that keeping large sums in stock markets that set all-time highs virtually every day, even as interest rates can provide a strong, risk-free return, isn’t a good idea.
It's obvious that I’m violating point No. 1 above. I am indeed timing the market. But I do feel that the Achilles’ heel of the Bogleheads philosophy is the belief that stocks always come back in a reasonable period of time after a correction.
Recent U.S. market history supports this belief. Markets needed only two years to recover from the 1987 Black Monday crash, six years to recover from the dot-com bubble and five years to recover from the 2008 financial crisis. In fact, the recovery from the COVID-19 crash took a mere six months.
All that said, am I willing to base our financial future on statistics from the past? Nope.
Elsewhere in the world, it has been known to take a while—a long while—for markets to recover. It took Japan’s Nikkei index an astounding 34 years to surpass its 1989 record high, a feat achieved earlier this year. If that arc were to occur now with U.S. stocks, the recovery wouldn’t be complete until I turn age 102. At that point, the wait would be over—and, almost certainly, so would I.
Tony Wilson spent most of his career working as a journalist and then newsroom technology trainer at news organizations in Kentucky, Kansas City, New York City, London and Geneva. He finished his career as the translations planner at printer manufacturer Lexmark. Tony’s previous articles were Fearing Nothing and
Happy to Follow.
The post Waiting It Out appeared first on HumbleDollar.
May 22, 2024
Luck Would Have It
I'VE BEEN WRITING FOR and reading HumbleDollar for more than six years.
I’m struck by the number of articles and comments that talk about things like divorce, job loss, health issues, adverse financial events and caring for elderly parents.
When articles discuss such experiences, the pieces are typically well read, with numerous comments, including many expressing empathy. The amount of personal information shared is amazing. No doubt readers can relate to many of these events. After all, for most people, such events represent key moments in their life’s journey.
But I find myself thinking: How did none of this happen to me?
I married my first girlfriend, and it’s now been more than 55 years. I never lost a job, except a position I held for one week when I was a teenager. There was never a year I didn’t receive a raise. I enjoyed my work for nearly 50 years. Both my parents died in their sleep, with no expensive, protracted end-of-life care. We found a way to ensure our four children graduated college with virtually no debt, and then helped them pay off what little they had borrowed.
A few health issues—while scary at the time—were resolved by good medical care and insurance that minimized our cost. The only exception has been Connie’s eye injury a few years ago. Her eyesight, unfortunately, will never be the same again.
We raised our family on one income, while Connie did the hard work of managing the family and volunteering in the community. We lived the first 30 years of our married life quite modestly. We worked together on the goals we set. Disagreements—especially about money matters—have been rare and quickly resolved.
I didn’t hit the income jackpot—meaning bonuses, stock options, stock awards—until I was age 60. Still, in retirement, we have financial security, thanks to a pension and Social Security.
I’d like to take credit for some of our good fortune, but I’m hard pressed to do so. The best I can come up with: We tried hard to avoid poor decisions.
According to the Mayo Clinic, expressing gratitude can deliver a slew of benefits, including improved sleep, mood and immunity. Gratitude can also reduce depression, anxiety, the risk of disease and difficulties with chronic pain.
Here Connie and I are, with a combined 164 years of life behind us. It’s almost like we lived in a 1950s sitcom. The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet is my favorite. I don’t know why we have what we have or why things happened as they did. But we are indeed grateful.
The post Luck Would Have It appeared first on HumbleDollar.
May 21, 2024
My Death Odyssey
THERE SEEM TO BE four subjects that folks are reluctant to discuss with acquaintances, friends, intimates and often themselves: money, sex, religion and death. A few months ago, I broached the subject of money, to wit, my investment history—territory well-trod by this readership.
I will now turn to the literal and figurative last item in the above lineup of forbidden subjects: death. As a physician, I have some knowledge about the death of others. But I’ve had no experience with my own death—until now.
My health news has always reflected a “bullet-proof Bob.” Over my 88 years, I’ve had the most unlikely run of incredible good health: no serious illnesses, no broken bones, a single missed day of work thanks to the flu 45 years ago, a single significant surgery involving a knee replacement, no cancer or vascular disease, no hospitalizations, and an astonishing family history of longevity.
This incredible run ended with sudden finality. Two months ago, in preparation for a procedure for an enlarged prostate, I had a prostate-specific antigen (PSA) test performed. It was off-the-charts high, with a score above 1,000. At that moment, in the blink of an eye, I knew I had metastatic prostatic cancer (PC) and that it was incurable. So began my odyssey.
After due diligence—reviewing the disease online at some length—I got lucky. A friend put me in touch with a colleague of his, a professor at a large academic center who was an expert in metastatic PC. This expert pointed the way. I had my roadmap.
The most significant and revealing test was a PET-CT radioactive isotope scan of my entire body. It accurately identified all of my prostatic metastases down to the size of a pea. It revealed extensive cancer involving almost all my internal lymph nodes, head to toe, but only a few small scattered bone metastases, and no organ involvement at all.
My reaction to this news was confusion. How so? For some time, I had been ruminating about my future decade as a nonagenarian. My vision of it filled me with considerable apprehension and anxiety. With my wife’s health quite fragile, I saw the odds favoring her demise before me, leaving me spouseless and alone without intimates or family nearby, since I live in Mexico.
My deafness is now profound and a source of social isolation, anxiety and severe disability. Worse, the next decade would see an inevitably increasing frailty, physical deterioration and fading cognition, all impacting my ability to care for myself and enjoy daily life. I have seen this process up close both in my own family and in my medical practice.
Worse still, I couldn’t envision many practical steps that would significantly alter this future. A lot of happy talk surrounds such issues in the public press. The realities, I think, are a poor match for such talk. Ahead of me lay a faded old man waiting for an uncomfortable death.
On the other hand, the case for a somewhat different aging scenario could be made. I have been entirely symptom-free. PC is frequently a quiet fellow who creeps along silently in the shadows, not drawing attention to pain or other symptoms. In my case, this lack of pain and other symptoms suggested a robust response to therapy and the best possible prognosis for metastatic PC.
I remain in remarkable health, enjoy life and have no other current diseases. Most important, I have a wife who truly loves and understands me, and who will willingly share and help me with the experience of dying. What few regrets I have had, I have set to rights as best I can. In short, my immediate future is relatively bright.
So, is the tolling I hear the knell of impending decay and death, or is it ringing in some comfortable years ahead? It seems to be both—some sort of cosmic Manichean happenstance. Of two minds am I. Should I embark on a treatment plan with probably tolerable side effects that offers prolongation of life into a feared old age? Or should I go without treatment, enjoy a life unfettered by medicine’s interventions, and accept a shortened lifespan? What sails to set to death’s foreign shore?
After some significant dreams, consultations with my subconscious, acknowledging my biases and listening—really listening—to confidants, I’ve decided on a middle way. I will take my prescribed medicines but pass on chemo, continue to assess my disease’s progress, weigh the treatment side-effects, and keep an open mind about changing course. Death has of yet only darkened my door. As his presence becomes more insistent and real, will I change my mind in some way? Life is ever-changing and fraught with surprises. What will it bring? Time will tell. Quien sabe? Vamos a ver.
And my “long-term” future? I have for many years believed in purposed lives, reincarnation and the soul’s permanence. That I will return to this earth many times to share lives with my intimates, in circumstances and roles different than in this life. And that such journeys will bring us closer to the perfection known as God. I arrived at this belief system over many years, not as a rationalization for death’s inevitability, but rather because it made sense to me, and my readings and experience supported it. Whether this belief system is valid, I will discover soon enough.
Robert Dailey
is a long-retired emergency physician from California. He lives with his wife in the slow lane of Cuernavaca, Mexico, where he enjoys birding, investing, and travel with an assist from credit card miles and points. His previous article was For the Fun of It.
The post My Death Odyssey appeared first on HumbleDollar.
Many Words Later
THIS IS MY 150TH article for HumbleDollar. My first appeared on Aug. 12, 2019. I’m not sure when I became aware of the site, but it’s become an important part of my life. I’ve truly enjoyed the writing, along with reading the work of others and interacting with the editor, other contributors and readers.
For my 150th, I thought about looking back over the past five years and compiling a list of 150 observations. But that proved too challenging for my ancient brain. Instead, here are my top 15 thoughts, observations and random musings, offered in no particular order.
I’m still capable of learning. Indeed, I’ve learned so much more from commenters and other writers than I’ve manage to teach. Being exposed to other people’s thoughts and ideas is a daily joy.
The name HumbleDollar really fits. The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know and how many smart people there are.
Civilized discussion between good people is a wonderful part of life. The comments I’ve received have been kind, thoughtful and enlightening. We should all strive to do more of it.
Many retirees love to travel. Many retirees enjoy travel. Many retirees have almost no interest in travel. I consider myself somewhere between love and enjoy. I have friends in the “not interested” category. They aren’t wrong and I’m not right. We each get to choose how we lead our lives, and we can change if we choose.
Medicare is a pretty good deal, but it’s not free. Medicare's income-related monthly adjustment amount, or IRMAA, can be a big issue, especially if your final years of employment included some high-income years—but you may also be able to get those premium surcharges waived.
Inflation isn’t dead. When I started writing articles in 2019, inflation wasn’t even a thought. By contrast, inflation was very high as I hit adulthood in the late 1970s and early 1980s. I vividly recall friends getting 14% mortgages on their first homes. Our first mortgage was 8%, but only after paying three points upfront, or 3% of the loan amount. We were happy to get that mortgage. Today’s inflation is certainly concerning, but we’ve seen worse.
The financial markets are pretty resilient. Despite spending way more on real estate than planned, our retirement accounts are bigger than five years ago. Our portfolio is pretty simple, mainly low-cost stock index funds. I’ve never been good at picking individual stocks, and stopped trying years ago.
Financial planning is important, but we should plan for the unplanned. In this century, we’ve experienced a global financial crisis and a global pandemic. Both surprised me. But we worked and saved during these bad times, and kept investing when markets were down.
I think having a margin of safety is important. Carrying a cash reserve made it easier to handle the market gyrations of 2020 and 2022. Meanwhile, automating withdrawals makes it feel like we’re still getting a paycheck.
To me, investment selection and management is the least interesting part of personal financial planning. Maybe it’s because I’m lousy at picking stocks. Managing our cash flow, tax planning, estate planning and buying the right insurance are all just as important to our financial lives.
It’s not good to only associate with those in a similar financial position. Despite the enormous wealth in America, there are many people who still struggle in retirement. My experience as a volunteer tax preparer has exposed me to both retirees of limited means and the working poor. There are lots of opinions about why folks struggle financially and what needs to be done. But when you sit across the table from someone in tough financial straits, judgmental thoughts don’t help. You either help them or you don’t participate.
Social Security is a crucial source of income for many retirees. The many comments that follow a Social Security article are a testament to this. Deciding when to claim Social Security is a personal choice, involving financial and non-financial considerations. One thing I’ve noticed: Most folks are sure they made the right choice, regardless of what happens later.
Sharing part of your personal story with strangers is scary, but worthwhile. I’m always impressed—and a bit awed—at the stories that the site’s authors share. I’m grateful for their courage and selflessness.
Retirement isn’t an end. Rather, it’s a fresh chance to engage in all manner of activities. One of the things I thought I wanted most from retirement was autonomy over my time. That’s still important, but I’ve found it needs to be balanced with family, friendship, purpose and activity. I think finding the right balance is one of the most important parts of life, and especially so in retirement
I feel tremendous gratitude to the HumbleDollar community for its patience, forbearance and friendship. I look forward to many more years of participation.
Richard Connor is a semi-retired aerospace engineer with a keen interest in finance. He enjoys a wide variety of other interests, including chasing grandkids, space, sports, travel, winemaking and reading. Follow Rick on Twitter @RConnor609 and check out his earlier articles.The post Many Words Later appeared first on HumbleDollar.
