MAD AT DAD?

I was told by a neighbor today that I ought to be angry at his generation. Angry? Right now? One minute I was soaking up the sun of a late summer’s afternoon with my warm black dog at my feet and the now I feel in the next few minutes he’ll succeed in getting me mad at his generation.
He reminded me that there may be no money left for us when we retire because his generation is spending it all. This is an economic phenomenon I can’t seem to wrap my head around but it has certain potential for dissension. The way I see it, there has always been enough money in government for Social Security benefits and it’s hard to imagine life without it. After all, we’ve been paying our taxes our whole lives, of course they will take care of us when we need them to.
But you know, maybe they won’t. Maybe it just won’t be there. Maybe our country’s leaders have been so wasteful, our country will become weak and poor and vulnerable making us weak and poor and vulnerable, standing around hungry with empty pill bottles in each hand. So maybe I should be angry.
On and off I worry about our personal state of affairs in retirement. Maybe I’m being naïve taking blame for my financial worries when maybe they are not all my fault after all.
Maybe if I really knew how much my government squandered our money my hair would stand on end.
My husband and I are self-employed small business owners and over the years our health insurance benefits keep getting worse and worse while the premiums and taxes keep going up. But not to have a job that pays good benefits is our choice, I say to myself. Wait a minute, I thought owning your own business was the original American Dream? You had everything if you were your own boss. It was the ultimate in sacrifice, freedom and security. With God recognized as sovereign, it was the baby formula that grew our United States of America into the coveted titan of the world. Now I’m getting angry.
When I worked for a big company, I went to the doctor every year like a good girl. I had two babies, all paid for, and took them to the doctor when they needed care without giving it a thought. Things have changed.
Last September I spent a night in the emergency room with my 18 year old son. In between his bouts of pain, we passed the time guessing how much of his first college tuition payment this evening of CT scans and needles was eating into. When I got the bill, I tried to remember the gold leaf coating on the gurney and the silk sheets but just couldn’t recall. Going to the doctor these days is a privilege that we only allow ourselves if life or limb are at stake. One blood test as anyone knows, can put a quite a hole in the family budget.
For now, though, life is working. Life is humming along because we have our health and we are still fairly young and able to work every day. It’s not today that I try to push to the back of my mind. It’s when I consider retirement or sickness. Now I am full speed ahead angry.

I fear there is a fair chance that, at the rate the federal deficit is growing, when we finally can’t work any more because we’re old and hunched over and bumping heads with each other, there will be no Social Security benefits waiting for us like our previous generation. I know there will be no pension for us unless one is started called the American Dream Special Benefit Package, available to small business owners that are fortunate enough to live to retirement age. All we may have is the money under our pillows. And if we happen to bump heads and need emergency care, that will be gone too.