Social Security… What?

Last November I was faced with the decision of taking social security at sixty-two or wait until some age between now and seventy or even at all, but I’m not opposed to social programs that I’ve paid for all my life. This decision is something I was pretty sure about it, as recently as two years ago I was adamant I’d wait until seventy. But as the reality of time has narrowed and the realization that a fixed income is nothing to mess around with, I decided to start it. If that doesn’t make sense, it’s ok, I retired from the government and nothing about it really makes sense when it comes to pay or in my case, retirement pay. There was a portion of my pay that was based on some projection of my social security payment starting at sixty-two, minus some silly percentage for every year I was under the age of sixty-two at the time of retirement. I’m sure it was based on some bi-partisan agreement to use a reverse-logic calculator from a nonprofit group that received a lifetime stipend for its nonsensical math equation. All I know is that it was ending when I turned sixty-two and I was going to lose a portion of my overall pension. Thinking about my projected lifespan on an actuary table that takes into account my health, mothers history, fathers projected lifespan… naw, that’s bullshit, I just didn’t like the idea of losing money and I’m not Jack Lalanne, so figuring it is a fifty-fifty shot I live beyond the crossover point of eighty-two (where 62 and 70 meet on income), I started up the process to receive social security income. Plus, I got a raise in doing so, remembering the reverse-logic thing, ah, you get it. I am also pretty sure I won’t be sinking massive amounts of income into Casa De Wilson by then. I think there might be a factor for the feds that in time, they pay out less if people start it late. I believe it as I look at obituaries and see more and more people passing before they are eighty.

Last month, I received my first check, which was immediately followed by filling out the form to take federal tax out of it for the future. This is another thing that gets under my craw. I’ve paid more taxes since retiring than the last twenty years of working. The whole pay tax later thing sucks and is a scam I’m pretty sure. Think about it, they tell you that you’ll pay less tax later because you’ll be a senior and retired. Those of us that are retired know this not to be true, there isn’t some magical reduced tax for being older. What the government did was sucker us into paying more tax at a higher government adjusted rate thirty years later. This is why I encourage my kids to make sure they contribute just enough money to 401k’s to get the matching free money, then if you want to invest beyond that, invest into a ROTH IRA. It was nice though, receiving a raise for at least one month, but with typical Bow-Wilson style, it went into something for Casa De Wilson. I could have gone and bought an AR-15 before they get removed from the market. Just kidding, I see no use in the AR-15 outside of… stop! I refuse to be too political in this article so that Jen will read it. Digression, back to topic, Jen did get one advantage in turning her recent age and that was that our property taxes are frozen even with the ever-increasing value of the house and property. Thank you, Texas, not sure how they cover for this one yet since Texas doesn’t have income tax, but I’m sure it still gets funded. Maybe it’s one of those stipends to the state from the feds. That would be funny since Texas touts its independence from the federal government like some badge of honor. In the end, I will still get a raise with social security, now, the amount is enough to buy a couple more bagels twice a month. That’s ok, I love my bagels!!

Beyond the functional part of turning sixty-two, there is the emotional impact of it. I don’t get super emotional about anything, but I did get reflective on turning sixty-two. Much of my life, I looked at sixty-two as some far-off age not worthy of thinking too much about outside of thinking about retirement investments. I always had sixty-two as my point of exiting the federal government and maximizing funds to retire on. I would have had 42 years of service. I was going to go out on April 1^st, call my boss that morning and tell him I was coming back to work and after a little discussion, I would yell out APRIL FOOLS! But life has different plans, as it often does, and I left work at fifty-seven. I had thought I would find some meaningless job like Walmart Greeter and look cross-eyed as I greeted little kids coming through the door. Strolling around Lowes or Home Depot and asking people if they needed help, followed by “I’m not sure where that is, I’ll find someone to help you”. But I would look good wearing one of those orange or blue vests having a measuring tape on my side and some nondescript paper in my hands like I had purpose. My retirement job ended up being as it should for anyone calling themselves retired, I do nothing. Nothing means, having coffee at 6:30 AM with Dad, working on some project around the house, knocking off daily at 2:00 PM, taking a nap, writing, doing bills until it was time for supper. Lately, Jen and I have been trying to have lunch together, which is nice and gives us uninterrupted time to talk about anything and everything. The only thing I haven’t earmarked time for is reading. I love reading and vowed on this vacation that I was going to find time for reading. We’re into the fifth day and the only reading I’ve done was on the airplane, which I only managed to get the first chapter read. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to start over as I don’t remember anything I read. I still have time though and today may be the day I get back on track to something I love. Hopefully without falling asleep as kept happening on the plane.

Turning sixty-two wasn’t as horrific as I imagined. In fact, mostly I feel better about life than at any other time in my life. I just wish that my aches and pains at sixty-two would have been reserved for eighty-two, because I still have too much to do. Maybe with luck and a better diet, eighty-two will bring just as much happiness as now and that I have either replaced all aching joints or they come out with some anti-aging pill that gives me the strength and agility of fifty-two, that’s not asking for too much, right? Still, sixty-two and social security… what?