“Retirement success.” Among the experts I talk
to that’s measured by a Monte Carlo simulation calculating the odds you won’t
run out of money before you’re dead.
It’s a bit grubby. Here’s a broader scorecard
for retirement, with dollars counting for only one point in four:
Are you healthy?
Are you happily married?
Are the kids all right?
Are you financially secure?
On the first point, let’s consider the odds of
your even being here. A Social Security report tells me that only half of the
males and two-thirds of the females born in 1950 have made it this far.
I did a tally of friends, colleagues and
relatives who died young. Young is defined as before the age at which I advise
readers to start Social Security, the biblical three score and ten.
I defined my circle widely, including, for
example, relatives out to first cousin once removed. This is an unscientific
survey from a universe of hundreds of people, and I’m doubtless forgetting a
few.
Cancer 18
Cardiovascular disease 7
Complications of alcoholism 4
Murder 4
Vehicle accident 3
AIDS 3
Suicide 1
Pancreatitis 1
Falling through ice on a pond 1
How healthy do you (and your spouse) have to
be to get a pass on the first scorecard item? Not necessarily healthy enough to
get a preferred rate from a life insurance company. But in most cases a cancer
diagnosis disqualifies.
I’m not sure about atrial fib. Properly
treated, it’s no big deal. But I’m remembering the relative for whom the
condition caused, just as he turned 70, a stroke that made the last years of
his life miserable.
Maybe my view of good health is too narrow. I have
two friends nearing that Psalm 90:10 age who each have three life-threatening
conditions, and they are fairly ebullient. But they get 0 on the health
question.
The scoring for marriage will be
controversial. You can be single, defiantly so, and happy. Put Louisa May
Alcott in this box.
Still, I’m thinking of the five near-retirees
I know, all women, who are alone and probably not by choice. Who’s going to
help them after a hip surgery?
Eventually, every couple loses a point. George
and Barbara Bush, who had a long marriage and passed on in close succession,
were a fluke. I have an expected-widowhood calculator in this story. If you try it you’ll probably get a number
like 10 years.
Kids all right? I’ll define that as
employable. A tally of parents I know, in some cases of kids I don’t, shows
these reasons for not getting a point: autism spectrum 4, schizophrenia 2,
Down’s 1, chronic depression 1, drug addiction 1.
Childless couples lose a point here. Yes, in
some cases the absence of a family is a choice. In most cases, I suspect, there
are regrets. I know two guys who got married and adopted a baby girl, who’s now
in middle school. This couple is a ways from retirement, but they’re on target
to get a 4 out of 4 on my scoreboard.
As for finances, I have a warped perspective.
Most of the older people I know, and probably most of the readers of this
essay, are comparatively well off—compared, that is, to the half of Americans
who are not financially equipped to handle retirement.
How many couples do I know who get a perfect
score? Not many. A few relatives. A few friends and colleagues. I give myself a
4. If you do too, you should be very thankful.
I’d like to hear from readers with statistics
or life experiences that bear on today’s subject. Send comments to the address
in my bio. If the responses are interesting, I’ll address them in a later
column.
In the meantime, I will revert to my narrow
focus on the last and least important of the four elements of happy retirement.
It’s the only one about which I have some useful advice.
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