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Editorial: The world in my hands
Commentary by Jeff Burgar
for South Peace News
I can’t remember exactly when I retired.
I was something like 30 or 32. I didn’t win the lottery. My folks didn’t leave me a fabulous inheritance. I didn’t discover a cure for fat.
My retirement was simple — I found a job I loved, and after that, I never worked another day in my life.
Of course, that wasn’t good enough for my long suffering wife.
She had some silly ideas. The first silly idea was that once married, she could stay at home, wash clothes, raise children and watch soaps. After a few years, the kids would be old enough to look after themselves, we could hire a sitter or grandma, and zoom off to holiday around the world.
Guys, you ever get that impression your woman thinks that way?
I really don’t know where females get these ideas.
You know, the idea that a guy is supposed to set them up for life.
I don’t understand it at all. Possibly it starts in one of those magazines that always seem to have models posing in Paris, or New York or Rome.
Hardly ever do you see some young lady running a tractor in Farmsville, punching a cash register in BehindtheCounter Town, or tossing hamburger patties in FastFood City. Nope.
Those career choices just don’t get the attention they deserve, do they?
Now, these career choices are in fact important.
Our friendly federal government is now looking at how little money most people have saved for retirement.
Outside of ridiculous gold-plated pensions for civil servants, most of us have very few dollars tucked away.
Personally, I am mildly concerned, but only mildly.
As a baby-boomer, I know there’s a good chance once we get riled up, we boomers will just pass new laws giving us all the retirement money we want. There will always be a politician eager to claim a vote and will always present a plan to voters, no matter how stupid the idea is.
Yes, there’s an off chance the country can’t afford such foolishness.
Or the ten per cent of the population actually out there working will decide to stay at home and not support the rest of us.
So, I’m prepared for that.
I love my job. I can probably keep doing it even when I’m 90. I figure it will pay enough to fill the holes between pension checks.
And you know what?
In case it doesn’t, I’m pretty sure I can cook a better panini, or twist a better wrench, than many of those 20-somethings.
And have more fun doing it too.
Just in case.
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