Birthdays

As we get older, birthdays don’t have the same importance as they did when we were younger. When we were younger, we looked forward to getting old enough to go to school, get our driver’s license, graduate from high school or college, getting married, and have children. Then we progress from teenagers to young adults. Later, middle age and finally, senior citizens. During that time, birthdays come and go. Some of them are special, like turning 21, or 50 or old enough to collect Social Security and Medicare.

 

I just celebrated a landmark birthday, my 75th. I realized that’s three-quarters of a century!

Looking back, I’ve lived through some incredible times.

 

Seventy-five years is a long time. I was born as World War II ended. I was too young to remember the Korean War. Vietnam was a distant place filled with death and destruction, brought to us every night on the TV. The conflicts in the Middle East continue. Those people have been fighting each other for three centuries and probably will another three.

 

I first made a living working on a portable Royal typewriter, now replaced with a high-speed laptop computer. I’ve gone from a party-line telephone on the kitchen wall to a cell phone located continuously on my hip. I grew up reading the newspaper every morning. But now, thanks to the internet, the world is at my fingertips.

 

My car runs mostly on batteries instead of gasoline. At least, I can still drive it. If Elon Musk has his way, I can read something while I’m driving (or being driven) to work.

 

I’ve seen a man walk on the moon, and space ships reach faraway planets I learned about in grade school.

 

I grew up on a ranch in northern Utah, and I remember when we finally got indoor plumbing. Outhouses are not pleasant, especially in the winter. I could finally take a bath in a real bathtub instead of in a metal tub in the kitchen near the stove for warmth.

 

We got our drinking water from a spring-fed stream that ran below the house. Unfortunately, upstream was the barn and corrals. The cattle and horses also drank from the same stream. Before getting a drink, we had to look toward the corrals to see if any livestock were in the stream. Finally, the health authorities made my parents dig a well.

 

After college, I worked at a local newspaper, making $100 a week. My mother moved to Southern California, and during a visit, she arranged a meeting with the editor of the newspaper in San Bernardino. They offered me a job at $135 a week. Wow, a 35 percent increase! I went back to Utah and packed up the family and moved to the land of movie stars, sunshine, beaches, and oranges.

 

 

In the early 60s, there were orange groves everywhere in the Inland Empire, as it is known. Driving home after work, you could smell the sweet aroma of the orange blossoms. Unfortunately, within a few years, the groves were replaced with houses and strip malls. Gone were the pleasant smells, replaced by sooty smog that filled the valley.

 

For a time, I worked 65 miles away in Redondo Beach. My driving route took me past miles of dairy farms. I counted 19 on one trip. Three years later, there were three. Cinder block walls and tile-roofed homes lined the highway instead of open fields with grazing black and white dairy cows.

 

Having enough of California, I moved to Georgia. The green forests were everywhere. Colorful azaleas and snow-white dogwood trees bloomed in the spring.

 

At the time, approximately six million people were living in George, half of them in the metro Atlanta area. Now there are six million living in the Atlanta area. Leaving that behind, we moved to the mountains north of Atlanta. Fewer people and much less traffic.

 

After 35 years in Georgia, I returned to Utah. This time in southern Utah. It rarely snows here. Some people complain about the dry air and hot summer temperatures. But I’ve never had to shovel heat. I sure shoveled a lot of the white stuff growing up in the northern part of the state growing up.

 

A lot has happened around me in the past 75 years. Most of it has been good. I’m hoping to be around to see more changes and celebrate another special year when I turn 80.

 

 

– Ryan from St. George, Utah, a FAR customer who is finding purpose in this new stage of his life.

 

* The opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect the opinions or views of the Finance of America Reverse (LLC).

This article is intended for general informational and educational purposes only, and should not be construed as financial or tax advice. For more information about whether a reverse mortgage may be right for you, you should consult an independent financial advisor. For tax advice, please consult a tax professional.