What the Market Doesn’t Know

In June of 2020 I reconnected with a childhood friend. Chris and I met when I was just four. Our dad’s worked together at the Social Security Administration in Baltimore. When I was around 14 he moved to Colorado Springs but we continued to see each other when I spent several weeks with his family each summer. In our late teens we fell out of touch but reconnected once in 1994 when the association I worked for had its annual meeting in Denver. Then ensued several decades of silence.

In Fall of 2020 Barbara and I spent most of September and October subletting my daughter and son-in-law’s apartment in Lakewood, Colo. during the last few months of their lease, they having bought a townhouse. It was a super fun place to hang out during the pandemic. Barbara was still working at the time, but I had been unemployed since June 2020 when I had left my job as the Hillel director at the University of Rochester.

I found Chris though social media (before I left social media) and he picked me up early one morning in Lakewood and we went fishing. Well, he went fishing. I watched and jabbered on as he spent several hours failing to catch anything. It was a wide-ranging conversation.

He had also recently left his job as a teacher of history and economics, and we caught up on some 20 years of family and life history. It is a cliché to say that we connected as if no time had passed, but it was kind of like that, at least for me. Eventually we came around to talking about what it was like not to be working.

At that point, I wasn’t sure if I was retired or just unemployed. At a relatively young 59 years old, I said that I still had energy and still wanted or was perhaps even obligated to continue to contribute to society. When I left Hillel, I had thought I might look at another interim director job. But the pandemic made finding such work, highly unlikely. I actively not looking for work.

It was not that I wanted for something to do, but I did feel like I had more capacity than was being fully used. At one point Chris said (like an economist), “If you are able to afford to quit working the market has determined that your contribution has been sufficient.”

It was useful argument and one that I used with myself over the next few years when I was tempted to explore a job opportunity.

But last week after two and a half years of ‘retirement,’ I accepted a part-time position as the Finance Manager for the Jewish Grandparents Network, a nonprofit that was founded and is run by my good friend and Hillel colleague, David Raphael.

Here’s why:

• I continued to feel that I had something to contribute and wanted to use some of the skills that I had acquired over 35 years in the nonprofit work force.

• I missed the comradery and feeling of being part of a team that working can bring.

• I love accounting. It’ s the one aspect of the human world that is mostly black and white. Debits always equal credits. When an account balances to the penny, it is satisfying in a way few other things in life are.

• The opportunity seemed ideal. Working on a team where everyone was working remotely, setting my own hours, and working from wherever I happened to be. I would be going in knowing that I liked and respected the leader of the organization and enjoyed working with him and trusting that I would feel the same about whomever he hired.

• The validation and affirmation that comes with someone being willing to pay you for your work. The feeling that your knowledge and labor has value to others.

• Working even a few hours a day, gives your week a structure, an anchor, and forces you to be a bit more disciplined if you are going to get in your exercise and other errands along with your work. Tempted to stay up until 1 am watching The Bourne Ultimatum? Sorry, it’s a work night.

• I didn’t have to apply. He asked me to do it. It is nice to be wanted.

Finally, if I am honest, there is the paycheck itself. Because no matter how many times I tell myself that the retirement math is solid, there is a psychological benefit that comes along with earned income even if it is only a supplement to IRA draws.

If I want to buy some lox to enjoy with breakfast, what the heck, I’m working!

If I need a new iPhone this year (who doesn’t?), why not, I’m working!

If I want to fly first class to Europe? Okay, get a grip!

At the very least paying a bit more into Social Security will help support the system in the short run and may increase my benefit a little when it is time for me (or my wife) to collect it. (I should live so long!)

So, this week, I returned to work, and I guess I am a tiny fraction of those fabulous jobs numbers that the president was boasting about. So far, I am enjoying the work and the folks I am working with. And, yeah, I feel that I am making a contribution, even if the market says, ‘enough already!’

There are things that even the market doesn’t understand about sufficiency.

Delicious Denver

After a few hours wandering aimlessly in the Denver Art Museum on the MLK holiday, our daughter took us to a nearby bakery, Leven, where I had one of the best sandwiches of my life. Fresh mozzarella, roasted tomato pesto, arugula, on sea salt and rosemary focaccia. The mozzarella was melt-in-your-mouth soft and tasted simply of fresh milk with a light tang. The tomato pesto was bright and acidic with a touch of heat and the bread was voluminous, yeasty with a bit of crunchy salt on top.

My choice of side was spicy, marinated green olives that were picante and delicious, while my daughter had the bread and butter cauliflower pickles and Barbara chose the marinated artichokes. The sandwiches were huge and we all took half home for another meal. My son-in-law purchased a huge loaf of sourdough (1 kg?) to bring home.

I was motivated to try to make my own mozzarella when I get home. There are lots of videos on YouTube on how to do it. Alex is my go to.  I’ll report on the results.

Denver is a culinary powerhouse and especially welcome after you have spent three days driving through southern Indiana, Missouri, and Kansas. In spite of booking a hotel with a kitchenette, we have succumbed to the temptation to dine out multiple times. We had an incredible vegetarian Nepalese meal at Sherpa House in Golden, Colo. and a decent wood-fired pizza in the Belmar town center in Lakewood though not worth the $62 price tag for lunch for four.

Tuesday morning was spent transferring ownership my mom’s low-mileage Honda Civic to my son (Thanks, Mom!). This required an emissions inspection (recent Maryland inspection not accepted) and a VIN verification (30 min./$50), then a trip to the County Courthouse (known locally, I learned, as the Taj Mahal thanks to its central dome) for a Colorado title and plates (30 min/$68). As we were leaving the courthouse, plates in hand, my son wryly noted that if our goal that morning had been to purchase a hand gun, we would have completed our task much quicker, probably cheaper as well.

With little time left before my son needed to be at his graduate school class, we sped off to Carmax to unload his old Mazda 3. Just 20 min later, we walked out with cash.

After our deep engagement with American bureau-crazy, we stopped for a well-deserved classic burrito from Bonfire Burritos. It was chilly sitting at the tables in the plastic wrapped deck area but the cheesy beans, roasted peppers and hot sauce warmed things up nicely.

Is there anyone on this planet who doesn’t love a burrito?

A lighter dinner was appropriate so Barbara and I prepared a meal of salad, roasted brussels sprouts, and potato latkes for the family at my daughter’s pad. Yes, latkes in Tevet! We had no applesauce or sour cream but there was plenty of ketchup so….

We were going to begin the journey home today but with up to a foot of snow expected, we decided to delay our departure for a day or two. Damn!

Oh well, where are we going for lunch?

Winter Visitors

As we approached home last September after nearly three months on the road, we stopped on at Barkcamp State Park in Ohio for our final night of camping. The weather was mild and with the weekend approaching, the park was packed with RVs, tents, and vans ready for a weekend in the great outdoors.

Fortunately, we had a reservation and squeezed into a spot next to a large party which was rocking to some raucous beats. We had just made our peace with the loud music when the same group fired up the most massive generator I have ever seen (or heard). The ground shook.

The camp officer kindly allowed us to move to the last remaining space in the campground, the “Emergency Space” that was around the corner. The generator could still be heard but it was more subdued. You might pretend it was large truck passing on a nearby road.

All of which to say, that when we returned to Barkcamp earlier this second week of January, it was a very different place. It is now winter, of course, and the trees are bare. It was also 4 degrees Celsius and snowing lightly when we arrived, though the sky soon cleared. There was no attendant was at the open gate to collect our fee. We found an empty site (they were all empty) and set up camp.

We prepared a quick meal of hot soup and pasta at our picnic table and dined – alone. There was not a soul to be seen and the only sounds were the hooting owls which very grammatically called, “whom! whom!” We had the whole dang park to ourselves. Amazingly the water and lights were still turned on in the shower rooms, not always the case in the winter. The water was hot.

The temperature dropped further overnight and by morning there was a thin layer of ice on the inside of the van’s windshield. I had awoken several times during the night to find a luminous full moon directly overhead and the soft sounds of night critters. It was chilly during the few moments, I needed to spend outside but the van holds warmth nicely and the down comforter was nice to get back under. We retired at around 8:30 p.m. and slept more than 10 hours.

In the morning we skipped breakfast and just made coffee enjoying our freshly ground and brewed joe while packing up.

Heading back toward highway, we slowed at the park gate once more to try and pay for our night’s accommodations. The booth was still deserted. “Catch you on the way back,” I thought as we picked up speed.

More likely, it will be Spring before the fee collectors are back. In addition to the other benefits, winter camping is also often a bargain.

The nocturnal creatures figured it out long ago. Time your movements to when the rest of the word is hunkered down or asleep and you’ll have the world mostly to yourself. You don’t have to stray outside your comfort zone, only outside the comfort zone of 95% of humanity to find yourself enjoying the rarified air of solitude.

Make sure to bring plenty of warm clothing.