Blog

A Boomer’s Journal

By Tom Anselm

They say that age is relative.  And that’s true in my case.  All my relatives are aging.  I can see it in their faces.  Some have grown ‘jolly of girth”, others gray of hair, and still others have sprouted what granddaughter Ella calls “crumbles.” You know, those awesome lines and crevices that seem to crop up overnight in even the best of visages.

Just the other day, that guy was in my bathroom mirror.  I had seen him coming, gradually, in recent years.  But this bright morning, in full bloom, there he was. Crumbles galore.  Of course, it was altogether proper and fitting, because in that afternoon’s mail, I received the ultimate notice of being “up in years.”

My Medicare card.

Now, I know what you must be thinking.  ‘You mean that young fellow in the green shirt (when page is in color)  at the top of this page is really a senior?’

I have used that ‘older gentleman’ moniker to financial advantage at the golf course and theater, and even when I go to Great Clips to get what few hairs I have  left knocked down a bit. But now, here was a piece of cardstock with official red-white-and-blue logos verifying that very fact.

‘Hey, been there, done that,’ some of you more seasoned veterans of this life-game might be saying.  “Get over it, sonny.”  I see their point.  It is something they have met and conquered along their paths.  Still, it signaled a sea-change for this kid.  I can’t fool myself anymore into posing as a ‘late-50s kind of guy’.  The card, alas, does not lie.

After the initial shock of this inevitable mailing, however, I began to look at things with a new perspective.  For one thing, I was fully capable of limping down the driveway to get said mailing, read it with only a little difficulty, and begin to formulate a plan to arrange for my new and exciting medical future.  Which, I am finding out, is not one for the faint of heart to enter into.

And not being faint of heart, at least according to my latest physical, that is all good, because it has taken meeting with three financial advisors and multiple conversations with veterans of this quest, along with more than a couple Google searches, to get to a point of decision.  And once made, I’m sure there will still be some lingering questions as to what I will do in the future.

I did find out that if I keep reasonably healthy and off medications as much as possible, that will keep future costs down. Also, what I choose this year can be changed in subsequent years as circumstances change. Which is a good thing, especially since there are bunches of insurance providers out there competing for the right to have me as a client, with all of them saying they have the best product for my needs.  And, since I was going to have to drop off of Jill’s work medical plan due to increased costs anyway, this program of our benevolent government came along at just the right time.  Maybe this ‘magic number’ thing isn’t so bad after all.

So I prepare to enter into a new phase of moving on down the field.  I very soon will have officially entered into the ‘4th Quarter.’  I might have to revise the game plan a bit for the long haul.  Do I have the moxie to mount that final drive, move those sticks, get into the “red zone”, take it to the house?  Maybe extend the game into overtime?

And more importantly, will I ever lose my fondness for awful metaphors?