As is my wont, I delayed filling out my new 401k forms until the very last moment. In a plastic envelope, the glossy brochures and pie charts and allocation charts sat on my desk. I'd take them home once in a while with the intent of reading through them, but one look at the worksheet to determine my retirement goals made me want to have a drink and so, following that impulse, I'd put aside the envelope containing my future and go down to the bar next door and meet my friend Ali for an after work cocktail.
Well, today is the deadline. I can no longer ignore the pressing need to secure some kind of financial security for my self. I have no concept of money. It's nice to have and I like having a regular paycheck, but it doesn't really MEAN anything to me. When I look at money I see only that--money.
Oh, I see bills, rent, taxes (jesus, so many taxes) and dinners and trips, but I don't see what other people probably see. I don't see value or worth in money. It's either there or it isn't. If it's not, then why think about it? If there's a sudden windfall, well, aren't I a lucky duck? Let's go out and have a good bottle of wine with dinner. I take this attitude from my father and mother, who grew up poor in South Central Los Angeles and a little village in the Philippines, respectively. They worried about taking care of their family, but they never worried, agonized, or obsessed over money.
Both were relatively free with money. Every weekend, my mom would go to the mall. Every time dad went shopping with us, he'd get something for his library or his studio or something. We were never extravagent (except I think my mother later became weirdly shopaholic-like) and my sister and I never went without. We may have been a little shabby and perhaps not in the first mode of fashion (or maybe that was just me) but we didn't go to bed hungry and we never had to complain about not having stuff. We had stuff--just not as much stuff as other people. But the money was there to get it, or it wasn't. Often, we heard and understood the words, "Our money is funny this month."
My family didn't seem to be really big on planning for the future. There was a savings account (I remember seeing the book for it) but long-term planning wasn't part of our household, especially when my dad gave up his nice city job to become a minister. Goodbye security, hello...uncertain retirement and dependence on the capricious movements of a deacon board. (Ah--I've just realized that this coincides with my mother's increased spending habits.)
The Baptist church, especially an Independent fundamentalist one, didn't really have the wherewithal to manage a pastor's future. It was assumed this person would die behind the pulpit and the church would care for them until then and while this is a fine goal, it really didn't take into consideration markets, inflation, cost of living, family needs or the basics of health care and social security--retirement. This was a serious lack. It seemed to me (and my mother) that just because this was God's vocation, it didn't mean you had to be stupid about it. It's only in the past few years that my sister and I have convinced our father to establish some kind of retirement plan.
But now, here I am, about to choose which funds I want, how much I want deducted from my paycheck, and who my beneficiary is--all without having been shown how to do this before. I am just as uncounscious of the future as my father was. Beyond the difficulty of calculating my retirement goal based on my age, Social Security benefits and income, I've realized that I've made NO plans for the future.
Who is my beneficiary? I'm single and childless; this is something I've chosen but still--who will get my 'estate'? What is in my estate? Frankly, who would want it? What will happen to me if I get seriously ill? Who will defend my interests? When I die...what will I leave behind?
These are questions perhaps too heavy for the middle of the day on a Wednesday while at the office.
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