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|Subject: Re: In danger of running out of money?||Date: 7/28/2010 12:24 AM|
|Author: MichaelRead||Number: 16686 of 20086|
Besides, even if she eats into the basic amount somewhat, so what? I say enjoy that money and don't worry about struggling to "leave it to the kids"!
Can I vent a little? On subject but personal. There’s an insurance company and a bank who are pitching us to, in the first instance, to establish an annuity and, the second, a trust. In both instances the thrust is we live in gentile poverty while maintaining a direction where our children can have the means to do we can’t do because of the structure of the scheme.
These schemes are essentially similar: invest in an income producing method where, through a slight withdrawal to maintain life at certain minimums on our part (about $60,000 a year) the fund accumulates to a substantial amount as a legacy. And this legacy is our crowning achievement. And both the insurance and bank people smile when they say this as if that’s our whole life experience: leaving a huge pile.
It gets worse. With the insurance plan we can withdraw but only to a certain amount and then there’s a penalty; with bank trust we have to submit to the bank trustees our financial request for their approval (once again, penalties for withdrawal beyond a vertain amount yearly).
My riposte is that at $100,000 a year withdrawal our stash would last 25 years and, besides there’s ‘things can change even for the better’, I would be 97 when we reached the point we wouldn’t have to nickels to rub together
Okay, the beef is they have a stock thingy as if Elly and I were off the production line and now ready for a one-a-year trip to Mazatlan and maybe a flight to see the grandkids. Not noted is both of us spent out previous years using our heads and retirement per se is a matter of age numbers not facility. Elly has written one book (I have three) and she will write another (as shall I).
But what frosts is the premise they have that our retirement years are to be conducted as if what we do is sit around amusing ourselves with whatever retired people do to fill time preparing for death. As I say, a period of ‘did anyone dust Michael today?’
Damnit, I ain’t a dead man walking. I may live whatever years but damned if I am going to go into that night not enjoying the life I live now. And damned if I am going to fall into what I am, by the insurance company and the bank, deciding how I should live.
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