Call it the silence of the old goats. You see, I should be dead by now. OK, I take full blame for the current condition of the American Dream. I’m ready to admit complete responsibility. No, it’s not a president and congress that are to blame. Talk about health care gone haywire, it’s all my fault. I can see the master plan falling apart. I have these images of what havoc I and my fellow baby boomers have created to disrupt the “people flow” by living way past our predicted departure age.
My guilt trip all started when I was contacted regarding a survey on what my radio-listening habits were. When I told the pollster my age, she informed me I was too old for the survey. I had to be under 64; and, of course, not knowing how to operate a radio, my input was invalid. I guess old “should-be-gone-by-now” citizens are screwing everything up, including surveys. We are, after all, the slipping cog in the wheel of progress. Well, maybe, we’re slipping because we haven’t been oiled recently. Consider the following:
Some centuries ago (well, maybe decades), us “old goats” were not expected to live beyond the mandatory minimal Social-Security limits. But, modern medicine has kept us alive way past our anticipated departure date. Now, I have some old and dear friends who are co-operating. My best friend in high school (Tom), and the man who talked me into coming to this part of the world (Pat), and my wonderful friend (Burke), have all cooperated with the master plan. They have expired. I like using the word “expired.” It beats the alternative term. “Expired” is so much more gentle – kind of like something you see on the side of a milk carton: “Expired!”
So here I am defying the odds and robbing Social Security of its diminishing base. It upsets those leaders who have to make those decisions regarding our annual SS increase (no names mentioned here) to the point that our increase was about 2 percent of what the cost-of-living increase was this year.
Hey, recognizing my culpability for all of problems we have, I guess I’ll just stick my head in the oven. Oops, can’t afford the gas. Well, maybe, I’ll just buy a new deck of cards for the skat game; polish my golf clubs (my alternative to shuffle-board); and work on a write-in campaign to become the oldest president in the history of the United States. Then, look out you young curmudgeons who are impatiently waiting for my expected demise. I’ll be making some major changes. You see, some of us “old goats” have been known to do some horn-butting from time to time. And we still have some adequate numbers (in members) when it comes to professing our displeasure with the way some young bucks are making their own rules.
We aren’t that happy about the increasing crime statistics we hear about. We still believe lawlessness, guised under the false justification of whatever cause, is still lawlessness. We’re not happy about how we are treated like second-hand citizens who should be “expired,” especially when it comes to things like Social Security and Medicare. Please understand old goats can still vote. And, maybe, just maybe, we’ll raise our horned heads and make some noise.
In the interim, I will continue to wear my favorite cap that says “Retired and spending my kids’ inheritance” (not that there’s much left to spend). Now while us “old goats” are defying the expiration odds, I strongly recommend you work very hard at your applicable jobs and keep that Social Security rolling in. You see, by the time you get to be SS-compensation eligible, we old goats will have spent it all. Good luck.
Paul Ritzenthaler has spent most of his life working in broadcasting before retiring, but still keeps himself busy by announcing baseball games at the Municipal Athletic Center in St. Cloud, golfing and trying to keep up with his two dogs Dani, a Sheltie, and Tucker, a Shi-Tzu, at his home in Sauk Rapids.
