By Jay Jamison
When I retired four years ago, I imagined that life would get simpler. I no longer had to go to work either as a businessman or as an instructor in a classroom. My health insurance would be taken care of through Medicare and associated plans. I no longer had to worry about how to meet payroll in my little company, or the time-consuming scheduling of lectures and exams that worked in harmony with the Lincoln Land Community College academic calendar. I could just enjoy reading and traveling to my heart’s content.
Before I retired, December 7th was commemorated as the “date which will live in infamy,” as we quietly remembered the surprise attack on the U.S. fleet at Pearl Harbor in 1941. Now, December 7 is an infamous date for another reason. It is the last day to secure a Medicare supplement insurance plan for next year. Seemingly every other advertisement on TV is a reminder to call the number on your screen and review your health insurance options. I often try to escape the televised reminders by simply changing the channel. But it seems these ads are coordinated across a wide spectrum of stations, so by departing one, you only end up being subjected to another urgent plea to call the number on the screen on the next channel. These ads remind me of the early 1960s TV show, “The Outer Limits,” where the narrator says, “There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are controlling transmission.” The final option is to turn the TV off. After switching the tube off, I hear the mail carrier on the front porch. Opening my mailbox, I’m greeted with an array of letters and cards with return addresses from the very same hectoring companies that drove me to silence my television. My retirement health insurance situation has become more complicated, not simpler.
Retirement was also supposed to be the realization of that hoped-for time to relax, doing the things you have put aside during an active career — the things you always wanted to do. However, a problem arises when others become aware that you are retired. Your retirement means for some people that you now have extra time for them to step in and colonize the free time to which you thought you were entitled. During my working years my calendar was rather simple. With the exception of holidays, my schedule was: Monday through Friday = work. I also taught the occasional course at Lincoln Land. That was pretty much it. I yearned for weekends when I could do what I wanted, as a taste of what retirement would be like. During my working years I could basically keep my calendar of activities in my head. That’s no longer an option.
I’ve learned to my sorrow, that when asked to do something for someone or for some cause, and foolishly answering “yes” without consulting my calendar, I often later discover that I’ve already obligated that time to someone else. Every morning, I now consult the calendar on my computer to remind myself of the promises I have made. Some of these appointments and obligations stretch into next summer and beyond. I’m reminded of George Burns’ line about playing the Palace Theatre on his hundredth birthday, “I can’t die, I’m booked.”
