Another kind of retirement

MONDAY, 25 JULY 2022

Karl Marx’s second eldest daughter, Jenny Laura Marx, and her husband, Paul Lafargue, committed suicide together in 1911. They spent most of their adult lives doing revolutionary work, including translating Karl Marx’s works into French. When she was 66 and her husband 69, they decided they no longer had anything to give to the cause to which they had devoted their lives.

In a letter, Paul Lafargue wrote, among other things, the following by way of explanation: “Healthy in body and mind, I end my life before pitiless old age which has taken from me my pleasures and joys one after another; and which has been stripping me of my physical and mental powers, can paralyse my energy and break my will, making me a burden to myself and to others. For some years I had promised myself not to live beyond 70; and I fixed the exact year for my departure from life. I prepared the method for the execution of our resolution; it was a hypodermic of cyanide acid.”

It’s an unpleasant subject for sure. Old man or woman thinks they are no longer useful, or can no longer make a contribution, so the end is hastened. Would governments and companies that have to make increasingly high pension pay-outs to people living longer and longer be enthusiastic about such an idea? Who knows.

Still I think: Imagine yourself 70 years old. You are single, or a widow or widower. You have no children or grandchildren. You don’t have much of a pension either, and you no longer feel like working.

Then you hear about a program with a name like “Dignified Last Journey”.

Before you enter the program’s facility for the last mile of your journey, a consultant helps you settle your affairs, sell or give away your last possessions, say goodbye to your remaining friends or acquaintances, and so on.

Then your last few days arrive. You eat tasty but healthy food – you don’t want to experience unpleasant consequences in your last days. Convenience is of utmost importance. You also start getting daily doses of morphine. You sleep well, and longer every day. On Day 7, when you get your final injection, you don’t think anymore. You’re in dreamland.

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It might just be a nightmare growing old

MONDAY, 28 MARCH 2022

When I die, the minimum I want to leave behind is no debt; enough money so that my next of kin or spouse doesn’t have to cover the expenses to bury or cremate me; at least NT$2 million/$70,000/€60,000/R1 million to assist my spouse financially in the first year or so after my passing.

After reaching 65 or 70, there are a few ways you can stay alive:

1. Keep working until you die.

2. Hope someone takes care of you until you die.

3. Hope your pension fund keeps paying out until you die.

4. Hope the money the state gives you every month is enough so you don’t starve to death.

5. Hope your savings last until you die.

It makes one think: It’s not necessarily a good thing to grow old.

And even if you have enough money that keeps you going until you die in your eighties or nineties, there are always greedy kids or grandchildren who can cheat you out of your money, or so-called legal guardians who can convince a judge that you are senile and can no longer handle your own finances, and that they have to take over your finances for your own benefit.

Again it hits: Unless you’ve raised really good children, or have a particularly kind and generous family, it might just be a nightmare growing old.

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