Social Security

I turned 70 in February.  It's taking me a while to get used to that.  I'm still not there.  I don't feel very old, but it seems that every year from now on is a life well lived.  I got my second chance on January 8, 2011, so complaining is churlish.  I'm not angry at the passage of time.  I'm annoyed at how heavy the number 70 feels.

But TBG asked me something yesterday that made 70 feel pretty wonderful all of a sudden.  Have you applied for your Social Security?  You're 70 now......

I've been receiving spouse benefits (finally getting paid for being mom and a homemaker - someday I'll tell you about our friend who told his wife that he'd calculated how much she was worth to him .... they divorced not long after).  But now, entering this new decade, I can get back what I put in.

And, if I live long enough, I'll get back more than that.  I stopped working for pay a long time ago, and I didn't make that much even then.  Still, the estimator on the website showed that benefits are mine to be had, and so I began the process of acquiring them.

Signing in was the hardest part.  

Once I got the log in procedure verified and double verified and then, just for the hell of it verified a third and final time, I opened the application.  The questions were not confusing, except for one and my incorrect response generated an explanation and a recommendation - both in simple, clear language.

It took about 5 minutes.  I printed out my confirmation page and filed it in My Social Security file.  I also shredded the information I'd been sent over the last few years.  No need to hold on to those papers; they are replicated on line and I know where to find them.  Until I get my first check deposited in my account, though, I'm hanging onto this paper receipt.

I remember being told, as a young social worker in a dangerous part of town, that the only time the bad guys got up before noon was on the 3rd of the month.  That was when the Social Security checks landed in the old people's mailboxes, providing a grand swath of elderly potential victims.  My take away was not the ruthlessness of the evildoers, but the image of grandparents with bodies bent over canes and walkers, looking fearfully around for threats.  That, not FDR or LBJ, was my mental picture of social security.

But I'm banishing that to the trash bin.  I'm replacing it with the smile on my face when I realized that, for the first time since 1983, I was contributing financially to the success of my family.  

Suddenly, being old doesn't seem so bad.