As Evening Approaches
I'VE BEEN THINKING a lot about my mortality. I’m sure it has to do with Jonathan's battle with cancer, along with losing some close friends over the past few years. Maybe that’s one reason I've been thinking about contacting some long-lost friends.
Roger was a college friend who I’ve considered getting in touch with. I believe I’ve found his current address, and I was going to reach out to him by sending him a Neil Young album with my phone number attached. We were both huge fans back then.
I was 23 when I last saw Roger. It was 1974, at the old Fox Theater in Venice, California. He called to tell me that Neil Young’s movie, Journey Through the Past , was playing there. It was a late-night triple feature, which included two Jimi Hendrix films. I still remember all those folks dressed up like Hendrix. Roger and I were dressed like Young, wearing our old flannel shirts and worn-out jeans.
But I decided it might not be such a good idea to contact Roger because, when I read some of my old high school friend’s comments on social media, they weren’t anything like what I thought they’d be. Maybe it's best that I just keep the memory I have of Roger when we were young.
There’s one person from my past who hasn’t changed over the years: my old neighbor Jane, who I’ve known for about 35 years. I’ve always admired Jane. She has the kind of relationship I always thought I wanted.
Ever since I’ve known Jane, she and Bill have been a couple. During all those years, they never married. When they aren’t at each other's place, they both have their own homes where they can spend time alone. I used to see Bill in the apartment building’s lobby, getting the Sunday morning newspaper in his robe and slippers. I would sometimes see him drop Jane off in front of the building, with her overnight bag.
When Rachel and I were an unmarried couple in our 60s, we both wanted something more than what Jane and Bill had. We tried living like them. But we both knew that not sharing a residence wasn't going to work for us. We wanted to commit to an enduring relationship. We married, sold our homes and moved into the house I inherited.
Not too long ago, I was having lunch with a friend and he asked if I had a prenuptial agreement before I got married. I told him no. He then reached out to give me a fist bump. I didn’t really know what to make of it. Brian is a lawyer and I thought he would have advised me to get one. But he didn’t.
Now, when I think about our marriage, I believe Rachel has more to lose than I do. She also has significant assets, but—because of our age—she’s more at risk of losing her physical and emotional well-being if she becomes my caregiver. I’m 73 and she’s 67.
It’s why I have become more open-minded about living in a continuing care retirement community, or CCRC. I don’t want to burden Rachel with the responsibility of taking care of me. It’s also the main reason I work hard at taking care of my health. I don’t just owe it to myself. I also owe it to her.
Of course, we don’t know how our lives will play out. Which one of us will need long-term care and for how long? Maybe neither of us. But for now, we both decided to stay where we’re at. We’re still more than capable of taking care of ourselves.
There is, however, a CCRC that’s not too far from where we live. It's a nonprofit, and within walking distance to a major university and large park. It has independent living apartments, along with assisted living, long-term skilled nursing, short-term rehabilitation and memory care, all in the same location. The CCRC requires a refundable or nonrefundable deposit, with the latter giving you priority entrance to their medical facility.
But there’s one major hurdle that I don’t think I can get over: After being released from hospital, my mother died in the CCRC’s rehabilitation facility. I don’t like driving past the place, let alone the thought of one day finding myself there as a patient. It brings back too many unpleasant memories.
We’ll continue to look into CCRCs, while hoping our health holds up like our neighbor Sue. She’s in her 90s and lives alone, with some help from her daughter. I wrote about not seeing her for a while. We thought something terrible might have happened to her when her daughter drove off with some of her belongings. We found out later she was on a cruise.
That, unfortunately, is what happens when you don’t see an elderly person for a while: You fear the worst.
Dennis Friedman retired from Boeing Satellite Systems after a 30-year career in manufacturing. Born in Ohio, Dennis is a California transplant with a bachelor's degree in history and an MBA. A self-described "humble investor," he likes reading historical novels and about personal finance. Follow Dennis on X @DMFrie and check out his earlier articles.
Roger was a college friend who I’ve considered getting in touch with. I believe I’ve found his current address, and I was going to reach out to him by sending him a Neil Young album with my phone number attached. We were both huge fans back then.
I was 23 when I last saw Roger. It was 1974, at the old Fox Theater in Venice, California. He called to tell me that Neil Young’s movie, Journey Through the Past , was playing there. It was a late-night triple feature, which included two Jimi Hendrix films. I still remember all those folks dressed up like Hendrix. Roger and I were dressed like Young, wearing our old flannel shirts and worn-out jeans.
But I decided it might not be such a good idea to contact Roger because, when I read some of my old high school friend’s comments on social media, they weren’t anything like what I thought they’d be. Maybe it's best that I just keep the memory I have of Roger when we were young.
There’s one person from my past who hasn’t changed over the years: my old neighbor Jane, who I’ve known for about 35 years. I’ve always admired Jane. She has the kind of relationship I always thought I wanted.
Ever since I’ve known Jane, she and Bill have been a couple. During all those years, they never married. When they aren’t at each other's place, they both have their own homes where they can spend time alone. I used to see Bill in the apartment building’s lobby, getting the Sunday morning newspaper in his robe and slippers. I would sometimes see him drop Jane off in front of the building, with her overnight bag.
When Rachel and I were an unmarried couple in our 60s, we both wanted something more than what Jane and Bill had. We tried living like them. But we both knew that not sharing a residence wasn't going to work for us. We wanted to commit to an enduring relationship. We married, sold our homes and moved into the house I inherited.
Not too long ago, I was having lunch with a friend and he asked if I had a prenuptial agreement before I got married. I told him no. He then reached out to give me a fist bump. I didn’t really know what to make of it. Brian is a lawyer and I thought he would have advised me to get one. But he didn’t.
Now, when I think about our marriage, I believe Rachel has more to lose than I do. She also has significant assets, but—because of our age—she’s more at risk of losing her physical and emotional well-being if she becomes my caregiver. I’m 73 and she’s 67.
It’s why I have become more open-minded about living in a continuing care retirement community, or CCRC. I don’t want to burden Rachel with the responsibility of taking care of me. It’s also the main reason I work hard at taking care of my health. I don’t just owe it to myself. I also owe it to her.
Of course, we don’t know how our lives will play out. Which one of us will need long-term care and for how long? Maybe neither of us. But for now, we both decided to stay where we’re at. We’re still more than capable of taking care of ourselves.
There is, however, a CCRC that’s not too far from where we live. It's a nonprofit, and within walking distance to a major university and large park. It has independent living apartments, along with assisted living, long-term skilled nursing, short-term rehabilitation and memory care, all in the same location. The CCRC requires a refundable or nonrefundable deposit, with the latter giving you priority entrance to their medical facility.
But there’s one major hurdle that I don’t think I can get over: After being released from hospital, my mother died in the CCRC’s rehabilitation facility. I don’t like driving past the place, let alone the thought of one day finding myself there as a patient. It brings back too many unpleasant memories.
We’ll continue to look into CCRCs, while hoping our health holds up like our neighbor Sue. She’s in her 90s and lives alone, with some help from her daughter. I wrote about not seeing her for a while. We thought something terrible might have happened to her when her daughter drove off with some of her belongings. We found out later she was on a cruise.
That, unfortunately, is what happens when you don’t see an elderly person for a while: You fear the worst.
Dennis Friedman retired from Boeing Satellite Systems after a 30-year career in manufacturing. Born in Ohio, Dennis is a California transplant with a bachelor's degree in history and an MBA. A self-described "humble investor," he likes reading historical novels and about personal finance. Follow Dennis on X @DMFrie and check out his earlier articles.The post As Evening Approaches appeared first on HumbleDollar.
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