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Ready or not?

I recently pulled out and dusted off our household ‘go bag’ which was inspired by September wildfires a few years ago. While the Pacific Northwest is not in a hurricane or tornado belt, there is a perennial threat of a strong earthquake and, where we live, an increasing chance of being impacted by wildfires. While my spouse and I are not quite as ‘prepped’ as others in our area, we had pulled together some emergency food, water, shelter, toiletries, etc. in case we had to go at a moment’s notice. 

When I opened up the duffel, I was pleasantly surprised with what I found. Having previously done some research, purchasing and organization, this version 1.0 of our bag had not been completely undone by the infinitely variable temperatures in our garage or hungry rodents, insects, or mold. And I had forgotten about a few strategic additions (crank/solar radio, LifeStraw, etc.) which in retrospect were reassuring to see.

Aside from some food that was a bit past the pull date (though not as old as some things I’ve found in my fridge) and some batteries needing to be recharged or replaced, this unlikely time capsule had held up pretty well.  

In addition to being pleased that the packed spare clothing for my wife and I would still fit us, I patted my ‘past’ self on the back for planning and filling this go bag so well. While I replaced the food, recharged the batteries, and added a few tweaks and improvements (including a new rolling duffel and a bottle of Macallan), much of what was originally there remained as I repacked the supplies. 

In another post, I make a passing connection between creating emergency funds and go bags. But I think there is more to unpack here. Sorry, I couldn’t help it. 

My temporal bias is throbbing

A recent finance article sought to identify at what age you must start saving for retirement to be successful. More often than not, I don’t pay much attention to these types of headlines as they often arrive at the same zingers: 

• You should have started saving sooner and 
• You need to save more money more quickly. 

According to the report from the Milken Foundation, “Americans should start saving no later than 25 years old, saving $100 a week from then on to generate savings of more than $1.1 million by age 65.” 

I told you that was what they were going to say!

But after I read past the familiar depressing statistics, “25% of Americans lack retirement savings, and only 24% of workers feel “very confident that they’ll be able to retire comfortably,” I stumbled upon a new concept for me — temporal bias. 

And it got me thinking about my go bag. 

It is hard to think about and imagine who, where, and what we might be in the future. (And a go bag is even more difficult, because we have to imagine an unpleasant emergency which might imperil those who we love and that which we possess.) With a nod to our temples, it’s often a headache to think about tomorrow and beyond. But imagining the future is what financial independence and, eventually, retirement are all about.

“Temporal discounters tend to view their future selves as different from their present selves and cannot bring themselves to take actions that may discount present rewards in favor of benefiting those other future selves,” the Milken study said.

Let’s translate that into something a little more understandable. My interpretation of this statement is that:

• We like the present and the heady in-the-moment buzz of our current selfhood,
• We cannot or do not want to imagine ourselves as old(er) people, 
• We struggle with planning and saving for ourselves as old(er) persons.

I hope I die before I get old

Recognizing the irony of using a song from the Baby Boomer generation, I can’t help but quote Peter Townshend who lyrically captured the idea of temporal bias in My Generation from 1965. 

People try to put us d-down (talkin’ ’bout my generation)
Just because we get around (talkin’ ’bout my generation)
Things they do look awful c-c-cold (talkin’ ’bout my generation)
Just because we get around (talkin’ ’bout my generation)

Speaking from my own past beliefs and behaviors, there is no question that I struggled with the idea of being old when I was younger. While I didn’t necessarily hope I would die before I got old, when I was in my 20s and early 30s, I very much lived in the glorious present, consuming, spending, teaching, and enjoying life as a young adult. Sure, my parents were getting older. Sure, some of my educator colleagues were retiring.

But right now, I was Living. It. Up.

In 1997, my wife and I decided we wanted to teach overseas. We had already traveled pretty extensively (thank you, gold Mastercard) and the idea of living and teaching abroad captured our imagination. We didn’t have kids. Didn’t have a mortgage. We were already spending money in NW Portland like wannabe millionaires, so why not go big and go overseas?

We landed a great gig at the International School of Brussels. Leaving our parents, friends, and many of our erstwhile possessions, we boarded a one-way flight to Europe with our cat. In our mind at the time, we didn’t plan on coming back anytime soon. After all, I sold my album collection AND my stereo.

Despite some culture shock, we settled into a great life teaching in Belgium. Life was really, really good. We traveled around Europe, learned enough French and Flemish to eat and drink well, and thought we were on autopilot for the next decade of our lives.

Sometimes you can’t look the other way

What changed for me was watching my parents and other educator colleagues grow old(er). In our second year at ISB, we returned home for the holidays. Despite enjoying my mother’s holiday baking and festive times, even my youthful ignorance couldn’t overlook that my mother (the former school lunch lady) was showing early signs of dementia. And my father’s chronic illnesses weren’t getting any better. 

I would like to say that like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes that day, but that wouldn’t be truthful. One size, maybe. But it was enough for my wife and I to decide to depart Brussels after our second year, leaving glorious Europe to return home to Vancouver, Washington. [Cue Small Town by John Mellencamp]. 

Approaching a new millennium and becoming 35, I was back where I started (literally) and staring my lovely mother’s mortality in the face. It was the right thing to do. And it was a really, really, hard thing to do.

Current self meet future self

Financial independence is not easy. If it was, more people would be financially independent. We all know we’re going to get old(er). We all know we can and should save more — for emergencies, for college, for retirement. The math and the logic are all hard to argue with.

And yet we are human beings. The article on the Milken report acknowledged this challenge

“At an individual level, the report places a pronounced emphasis on countering “temporal bias” by getting in touch with their “future selves.” According to the paper, some experts suggest Americans think about their current and future selves as two separate people who need help….that might mean sacrificing current needs for future ones.”

For me, that has meant paying attention to my elders. While I learned many hard lessons from the challenges which my parents went through, I have also paid close attention to old(er) people who have navigated more successfully from their former selves to their future selves. I went from looking the other way to looking old(er) folks right in the eye.

While I cannot accurately predict who, where, or what I will be at age 65 or 75, I can see others who are those ages and learn from them. 

• What financial choices did they make?
• Are they financially independent or dependent?
• What is life like when you’re old(er)?
• What should I expect when I am old(er)? 

I’ve already talked about the lessons learned from my own parents. With both of them passed, I’ve continued listening to my elders.

• I semi-regularly meet some retired former teacher librarians over a beer and have often surprised them by asking pointed questions about aging, retirement, and lessons learned.
• I’m paying attention to my own educator ‘generation’ who is approaching retirement like me.
• I’ve noted the educators who ‘retired well.’ I write about them in another post focused on net worth.
• Unlike my own parents, my mother-in-law lived into her early 90s. In addition to looking out for her, I also took note of the choices and decisions she made, many of which were different from those of my own parents.

Here are some personal lessons I’ve learned from the old(er) people around me.

• Name your spouse as a beneficiary for your future pension
• Don’t count on a teacher’s pension and Social Security to keep you secure when you’re older
• Pay off your mortgage so you can pay yourself instead
• At some point, I’ll be necessarily living in a single level (no stairs) residence
• Buy stock in companies who make incontinence supplies
• Don’t buy a vintage car. It’s not really an investment
• Living a long life has its upsides and downsides

Celebrating yourself in the future

I’m not sure whether I agree with how the Milken report describes our current and future selves as two different people. But if that makes sense to you and helps you plan for you own future, run with it. I also don’t love the term ‘temporal bias,’ but I appreciate the recognition that financial intelligence and financial independence are not simply matters of logic and fiscal discipline. We also need to navigate some messy cognitive or psychological stuff as we fund our emergency funds, stuff our go bags, and plan for our eventual retirement. 

When we are young, perhaps have kids running around the house, and cruising from school year to school year, thinking about an abstract ‘future self’ is neither fun nor easy. And I think for educators who are constantly around young people, the idea of being old(er) is even more out of sight and out of mind. After all, we’re working with kiddoes and it is easy to settle into the culture of all that is current, young and now. 

As I write this, I’m not ready to call myself old, but I am older than when I first packed my go bag and much older than when I returned from Brussels in 1999.

And I will say this — in this current moment, I appreciate what my past self has done for my (formerly) future self. Should we need it, my go bag is ready to go. More importantly, I have found my way from not worth to net worth.

If I could thank my former self, I would. Or maybe I just did. 

You. Can. Do. This.

Now

1. Design and pack a go bag if you don’t already have one. If you already have one, pat yourself on the back. Then pull it out to check and update the contents.
2. Scan your current list of friends, colleagues, and family for old(er) folks. Be more curious about them in your interactions going forward. Seek to learn what they’ve learned about life, money, and aging. Pay attention.

Now

1. Plan a cup of coffee or a nice meal with some old(er) folks in your orbit. If your parents are still living and able, ask them what they imagined their future selves to be. If necessary, loosen them up with a drink or a scoop of ice cream.
   
   Trust me, it’s weird for younger people to ask old(er) people what they think. It will freak them out the first time. After that, they’ll keep talking as long as the beer or ice cream keeps coming.

2. Begin crafting an ‘avatar’ for your future self. Ask yourself (maybe again), what do I want to be when I grow up? While this future self avatar will likely change and morph over time, it can help you get past the ‘temporal bias’ so you can plan for your financial independence and retirement.