Bobby Darin

We boomers like to think that the performers of our generation are the greatest performers of the ages. Listen to what our kids have playing in their ears, you’ll know we’re right! Well, those performers who grew from the boomer generation are getting older themselves, and some are revising their hits with new lyrics to reflect that fact. Here’s a list:

Bobby Darin ~
Splish, Splash, I Was Havin’ a Flash

Herman’s Hermits ~
Mrs. Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Walker

Ringo Starr ~
I Get By With a Little Help From Depends

The Bee Gees ~
How Can You Mend a Broken Hip

Roberta Flack ~
The First Time Ever I Forgot Your Face

Johnny Nash ~
I Can’t See Clearly Now

The Commodores

Paul Simon ~
Fifty Ways to Lose Your Liver

The Commodores ~
Once, Twice, Three Times to the Bathroom

Marvin Gaye ~
Heard It Through the Grape Nuts

Procol Harem ~
A Whiter Shade of Hair

Leo Sayer ~
You Make Me Feel Like Napping

The Temptations ~
Papa’s Got a Kidney Stone

Abba ~
Denture Queen

Tony Orlando ~
Knock 3 Times On The Ceiling If You Hear Me Fall

Helen Reddy ~
I Am Woman, Hear Me Snore

Leslie Gore ~
It’s My Procedure, and I’ll Cry If I Want To

And last but not least, Willie Nelson ~
On the Commode Again

Dr. Bill Roiter

I recently read an article that looked at the “best places to retire.” What that really means is, the best places to live. “Best places to live” lists usually suggest several criteria for narrowing your choices, including affordable vs. cosmopolitan, cultured vs. simple, warm vs. cold, active sports (golf, hiking, tennis, etc.) vs. spectator sports (professional and collegiate teams), Democrat vs. Republican, etc. All are valuable ways to narrow your choices if you already know what you want over the next ten to twenty-plus years. The question, however, remains: Do you know?

After reading through the article, I thought about how it related to my own clients. Some have the means and the desire to make a retirement move. But most do not actually have plans to move elsewhere. Which I’ve come to realize, is a decision in and of itself.

Have you given this some thought? What is best place for you to live and why? Is it today’s home, or somewhere else?

The two predominant factors used by my clients who decide to move are, 1) they want to be closer to family and friends, and/or 2) they want to return to a place they have been and knew they liked. In other words, they are moving to place of importance to them. One client had lived her entire life in the Northeast, except for three years in Austin, Texas, for graduate school. She moved to Austin soon after leaving work.

Do you know what is important to you about the place where you’ll live once you’re retired? Most of the people I work with know they want to be secure and happy but have a difficult time describing what that means to them. So, here are four questions you can use to decide on the best place to live, whether you ultimately move there, or decide to stay put:

1. What location will give you the greatest financial security? Anyway, moving can be an expensive proposition; do you know what the costs are? Create a detailed budget including moving expenses, all of your current expenses, and what your projected expenses will be at the new location. Many people cringe at the thought of doing a budget and either do not do one or do it poorly. But it’s important, so find an example budget online (click here for a budget tool from CNN ) or get help from a financial planner. Also, visit the potential new location and find out how the actual costs match up with your current costs.
2. What are your healthcare needs? Will your new home town have what you need and will need to keep you healthy? This includes both living well while you’re healthy and the availability of quality healthcare when that time comes.
3. Will the new place support the social life you want? This is why so many people stay where they are, or choose their new home: to be close to family and friends. If your new home is in a place where you don’t have any connections, are there ample means to socialize, such as with civic organizations, volunteer opportunities, or clubs to join?
4. What is meaningful to you? One client chose to move to Montana to live near a river renowned for fly fishing, a couple moved from New York City to Pittsburgh to be near their two grandchildren. Another chose to stay in Louisiana to do more with her church.

The great retirement opportunity is the potential to live a secure, healthy, enjoyable, and meaningful life. We haven’t had the opportunity to live life as we choose since our early 20s. Now we can use our thirty-plus years of experience as a benefit, helping us decide how to live.

Two more Baby Boomer icons are gone: Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. Both passed away on June 25th and whether you were a fan or not, the world seems a bit more empty to this Boomer. If you are one of those who limits Boomer icons to Beatles, Stones, and peace symbols, that only means you are at the upper end of our mega Boomer generation. Both Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson were Baby Boomers themselves. And both were Boomer icons as well.

My wife, who is at the VERY youngest end of Boomerdom, had a Michael Jackson poster on her wall as a teen. Being a bit older, I had the famous 1970s poster of Farrah in the red one-piece bathing suit on my wall. Over twelve million of those Farrah posters were sold (mostly to males, I presume), so I was not alone. As Jill Munroe in the television series “Charlie’s Angels,” Farrah was THE beautiful, sexy, blond-haired girl to which all other girls of the era were compared. Girls, of course, knew this and emulated Farrah. Seems every girl I knew back then had a Farrah hairdo.

Michael Jackson, long before his fall from grace with legal and financial problems, and before he started getting downright weird, was truly the King of Pop. His Thriller album sold more than any other record in history, including anything by the Stones or Beatles.

When the icons of a generation pass away, whether it be George Harrison, John Lennon, Bob Marley, Jim Morrison, or whomever, bits and pieces of the generation they represent go with them. So it is with real sadness that I feel the vestiges of our generation slipping by. Farewell to Farrah, she is truly an angel now; not just playing one on TV. Farewell to Michael Jackson. Maybe he is now moonwalking in heaven. And, onward fellow Baby Boomers … taking one day at a time, wondering which of our beloved icons, reminders of our lost youth, might be next to remind us of our own mortality. But fret not. In the end, ya gotta admit … being a Boomer has been a really fun ride, hasn’t it? And there’s more road ahead of us.

Ninni Holmqvist

There were eight of us. Only two were men, which wasn’t that strange as the age limit for them is sixty. It’s perfectly natural; after all, they produce viable sperm much later in life than we produce eggs. Even so, I had thought for a long time that the difference in age limits for men and women was unfair. That is until Nils informed me that there were lots of men – I think he even knew a few – who had been conned out of parenthood by women who just wanted free sperm.

“It’s really only fair that men get more time, so stop moaning!”

I was very upset when he said that, not least because I felt found out. One of the reasons I had sex with Nils was that I secretly hoped the condom he so carefully slid over his penis before we had intercourse might split. I also made sure we got together immediately before or during ovulation. But it was also his harsh words, and the hardness in his voice when he said them, that upset me, and from then on I never spoke to Nils about my anxiety as I approached my fiftieth birthday.

There was still a minute or so before the orientation began. We went around shaking hands and introducing themselves. Everybody looked pale and serious. Resolute. I was feeling slightly unwell and just a little groggy and only half awake after my unintended nap. An orderly who had been by the door welcoming us and ticking us off on a list was now standing by a table up on the podium at the front of the room, arranging some papers, a bottle of water, a bottle opener and a glass. She gave me an introverted impression, as if she were shy. But if you happened to meet her eye, she smiled warmly. Her legs were disproportionately short, and she must have been seven or eight months pregnant. When she had finished arranging everything on the table, she climbed down and moved with short, waddling steps to the other end of the room. The way she walked reminded me of a penguin, which made me feel a little better, and the next time she smiled at me, I smiled back.

There was something familiar about one of the other new arrivals, a tall slender woman with high cheekbones and slanting eyes who seemed to be looking at everything around her with narrow-eyed skepticism. I recognized the girl in her through all the layers of age, but at first I couldn’t place her. When she introduced herself as Elsa Antonsson, I remembered.

“Elsa! It’s Dorrit – Dorrit Weger.”

“I can see that now,” she said, smiling tentatively. “Elementary and middle school. We were in the same class.”

“Time passes…” she added slowly, in a voice that was only just holding. She was noticeably moved.

“Yes,” I said. “Time passes.”

We sat down in a semicircle facing the podium. The director of the unit was now standing behind the table, neatly and impeccably dressed in a dark maroon suit and a gray shirt. She looked at us, allowing her gaze to rest on each person in turn. Made sure she met everyone’s eyes. This made her appear extremely sincere. She smiled, unbuttoned her jacket, cleared her throat and took a deep breath, and as she breathed out she began to speak:

“My name is Petra Runhede, and I am the director here at the Second Reserve Bank Unit for biological material. First of all I want to welcome you here. I would also like to take the opportunity to congratulate you on your fiftieth or sixtieth birthdays. Congratulations! This evening we will be throwing a big party for you all. A combined welcome and birthday celebration. Everyone in the unit, residents as well as staff, is of course invited. If everyone attends there will be something in the region of three hundred people. There will be a dinner, entertainment, and dancing. Don’t miss it! Our welcome parties are usually a lot of fun! We hold one each month, as you might be able to work out. Because those of you who are here, the eight of you, have certain things in common, including the fact that you were born in the same month. You are all February children.”

Petra paused and took a sip of water.

“You all know why you’re here,” she went on, “so I won’t bore you by going through all the whys and wherefores.”

She had tilted her head slightly to one side and was smiling now, confident but still immensely engaging.

“Or to put it more accurately: you know the main reason why you are here. But there is also something more positive for you in all of this.”

She paused again, for slightly longer this time, looking at us with a serious expression.

“I have no doubt,” she said slowly, once again allowing her gaze to move from one to another, stopping briefly on each of us, “you have found that people were often unsure of you, felt nervous in your company, sometimes seemed afraid, or behaved in a condescending or scornful way. Isn’t that the case? Do you recognize that kind of situation?”

Nobody replied. There was complete silence in the room, apart from a faint hum from the air-conditioning. I was staring like an idiot at Petra, and presumably the other seven were doing the same. After a while she continued:

“Is there anyone who doesn’t recognize that situation?”

We burst out laughing, grinning at each other in embarrassment, responding to her with a mumble of denial.

“Okay,” she said, “this is what I mean. For the majority of you it isn’t until you come to the reserve bank unit that you will experience the feeling of belonging, of being part of something with other people, which those of us who are needed often take for granted. And the icing on the cake, as explained in the information packet you’ve been given, is that you need never worry about your finances again. You have food on the table, a roof over your head, free access to medical care, dental care, physical therapy and so on, and it won’t cost you a thing. You may move around freely within the unit and make use of all its facilities. There is a large winter garden here, almost a park in fact, for recreation and the enjoyment of nature. There is a library, a cinema, a theater, an art gallery, a café and a restaurant. There is a huge sports complex. And you can pursue more or less any hobby or professional activity you wish: arts, crafts, electronics, mechanics, botany, architecture, acting, film, animation, you name it – there are workshops and studios for most activities. But above all” – and now she leaned forward, supporting herself on her fingertips on the edge of the table as if to give her words additional emphasis. “But above all,” she repeated, “you have each other! And now it’s coffee time.”

I would venture to say that this welcome speech made us all feel better about things. It would be an exaggeration to say that there was a cheerful atmosphere during the coffee break, but the deathly pallor had left most people’s faces, and as we drank coffee and ate homemade cinnamon buns in a cafélike room next door, the conversation was lively. We were starting to become interested in one another, asking questions about jobs and activities. Roy and Johanna were long-term unemployed; before that Johanna had delivered the mail and Roy had been some kind of consultant – I didn’t understand what kind. Annie had been a hotel receptionist, Fredrik a mechanic in a truck factory, Boel was a violinist and Sofia had done lots of different things, including delivering newspapers and junk mail, proofreading, cleaning in a hotel and packing goods for a mail-order company. Elsa, finally, had worked in the same shoe store ever since she finished high school.

After coffee, the meeting continued with practical information about everything from the procedures surrounding research experiments and donations to finding our way around the unit. Staff from the residential department, the health center, the surgical department, the restaurant, the art gallery, the sports center, and the podiatry and massage clinics came along, one after another, introduced themselves and told us what they did.

When we were finished my head was spinning from all the information we’d been given during the afternoon, and I had to go and lie down again for a while so I’d be able to cope with the welcome party that evening.

The new book by Ninni Holmqvist is “The Unit.”
Copyright 2006 Ninni Holmqvist.
Translation copyright 2008 Marlaine Delargy.
Used with permission of the publisher.

In fact, according to the Kauffman Foundation, the the highest rate of entrepreneurial activity belongs Baby Booomer go-getters, 55 to 64.

“The fact that the largest age group of our population is also the most entrepreneurial bodes well for the United States’ economic future,” said Robert E. Litan, vice president of Research and Policy at the Kauffman Foundation.

Click here to read the whole story.

Neda

By David Henderson -

Much of the world has kept track of events in Iran following the questionable outcome of elections there on June 12 via Twitter. With severe restrictions by the regime in Iran on media coverage and apathy by the news media in the West, Twitter has served to redefine how many of us view the concept of media in the Internet era.

Nothing has been more profound, in my opinion, than watching video of a young woman named Neda Soltan die on the streets of Tehran yesterday. She was a student of philosophies at Tehran University. According to reports, she was shot by a police sniper while standing with her father or university professor, watching protesters.

Neda Soltan

The video is haunting, especially her last moment alive when she looked at the camera as if to seek our help. At least that was what I saw in her eyes.

The story of Neda is being heard around the world today, carried first by people, sharing on Twitter and online. We no longer living in an era when some editor or TV producer makes decisions for us but rather we are sharing information and drawing our own conclusions.

My feeling is that the image and memory of Neda will endure as an icon, a reminder that we must not permit innocence and peace to be destroyed by tyranny and corruption.

Just let me share this prayer for Neda and others in Iran today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By Greg Dobbs -

Maybe Iran’s president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad fixed the election. But we have to ponder another plausible possibility: maybe he didn’t.

Why not? Because maybe he didn’t have to. He runs a repressive and dangerous regime, his police forces have brutally put down their own countrymen, and we’d love to see him ousted. But we might not speak for the majority of the president’s fellow citizens. History is my guide.

The first of many trips that I took to Iran for ABC News to cover the revolution, then the hostage crisis, was more than 30 years ago. With insurgents at his heels, the Shah was hanging on by a thread. The United States stuck with him because he still had some local support, but to virtually every journalist covering the run-up to the revolution, that support was pencil-thin. Generally the Shah’s backers were the rich and the educated. However, most Iranians were neither rich nor educated, and got no benefit from their authoritarian leader’s friendship with the West. Had there been an election in those days, the Shah’s challenger Ayatollah Khomeini wouldn’t have had to fix it. He’d have won hands-down.

In the three decades since, things have changed for the Persian people, some for better and some for worse. The suppressive violence surrounding Iran’s elections notwithstanding, there has been more free speech and open protest in recent years than we used to see under the Shah. What’s more, popular discontent with the country’s president is not primarily because of his radical rhetoric. No, it is mainly because of the economy; he has not figured out how to corral Iran’s rich resources.

The point is, just because we in the West detest somebody in the Third World doesn’t mean everyone within his own borders detests him. Or even most of them. The same Iranians who put Khomeini on a bandwagon and climbed aboard to ride it into the Islamic Republic are the ones who voted for Ahmadinejad. Does he command a majority today? Who knows, and anyway, the answer might now be moot, because the anger today on the streets of Tehran transcends the outcome of the election. But while the protests have been hugely impressive and impressively huge, all they prove is that Mir Hossein Moussavi, the comparative moderate who believes he should have won and we wish had won, has passionate support. Or perhaps more accurately, the notion of reform has passionate support, and Moussavi — like AyatollahKhomeini three decades earlier — is the messenger.

A close parallel is a recall election I covered a few years ago in Venezuela, this time for HDNet Television’s “World Report.” It was Hugo Chavez who was under fire, but the rich and educated weren’t in his camp; they wanted him out. I’ll never forget election day itself: we went to one well-to-do voting precinct in Caracas where the line of citizens waiting in the broiling sun to expel their president stretched for half a mile, which made me think the recall would work. But then we went to a sprawling slum, the kind of place where Chavez had bought support with his populist policies. The line was just as long, maybe longer. Sure enough, when the results were in, Chavez had beaten the recall. The Carter Center was down there too, and whether right or wrong, they confirmed the integrity of the outcome. Chavez’s opponents cried foul, but frankly reminded me of the Manhattan socialite who, after John Kerry’s bruising defeat in 2004 to George W. Bush, infamously said something like, “I just don’t understand it; I don’t know anyone who voted for Bush.”

Having covered stories in more than 80 countries, I have seen American foreign policy at its best and at its worst and at its worst, it assumes that people everywhere want what we want. They don’t. In some parts of the world, they want the kinds of rulers, and sometimes even political systems, that we condemn. The best example of that might be the Gaza Strip, which I’ve also covered for HDNet. The U.S. rightly encouraged free and open Palestinian elections; in Gaza, the terrorist group Hamas won. If that doesn’t teach us something, nothing will. We should shout out for the right of Iranians to demonstrate without consequences. And we should fight for Iran’s elections to be fair, but should not assume that if they are, we will like the outcome.

I’m starting a campaign against the common handshake.

And it’s overdue.

One report I saw says that cold germs live on hands for hours. The silly custom of shaking hands costs us $46 billion a year in health costs, and who knows how many missed work days… or mornings on the golf course.

Not only colds, but flu and who knows what other maladies are passed on through this disgusting way of greeting friend…business associate… and even foe. It’s now considered impolite not to offer a handshake.

Woman to woman.

Woman to man.

Man to man.

Man to woman.

As a young Boomerette, in more genteel times, I was taught that a gentleman waited for a lady to extend her hand before extending his. The woman made the decision whether or not to shake hands.

Now, his hand goes popping out like a glad-handing used car salesman and you’re forced to reciprocate. Most of the time, it’s fine. But sometimes it’s a bone-crushing, knuckle-crunching shake from a guy who probably didn’t even wash his hands after using the bathroom (something like 110%, I read somewhere).

Why on earth would I want to shake hands with potty man?

Then, there’s the guy who just won’t let go. Who turns a simple handshake into a handholding marathon. What’dya do? It’s not easy to be subtle when you’re trying to escape the clutches of a guy who has you in a death grip. The kind of guy who makes you wish you had a black belt.

And I won’t even mention Mr. Sweaty Palm. Ugh.

Why can’t we be like the Asian countries, or at least how they used to be before they were corrupted by our western way of greeting? Why can’t we merely nod or bow?

In Nepal, they put hands together and say, “Namaste,” which roughly translated means “I salute the god within you.”

In the old West, a gentleman tipped his hat to a lady. That’s nice, too. But I guess a ball cap’s kind of hard to tip.

Aren’t these greetings more civilized, less arrogant, healthier, than slipping your germs onto some unsuspecting person’s person to pass on to yet another and another…

It’s not just in social or business situations either.

There’s nothing worse than being in a hospital room or medical office and having the doctor come in and insist on shaking hands. And you wonder… did he wash first? One study says fifty percent of them don’t!. And is it true his patient in the room next door has a staph infection?

100,000 Americans a year die in hospitals because of the passing along of staph infections and other medical blunders.

I’m going to die for a handshake?

It’s a dumb, dumb tradition, that some say started in old times to prove that your hand was weapon-free.

Now our hands have turned into the ultimate bio-chemical weapon.

And it’s not only sharing germs that’s a worry. Some of us boomers have hands that have done a lot of work over the years and may be ready for retirement. My shaking hand has a painful thumb, a deformed pinkie, and leftover tenderness from a disease that’s most common in middle-aged Swedish men.

Other than that, I’m perfect.

So let’s start a movement to do away with the handshake. You can bow, kneel, nod, tip your hat, or smile. I’ll even take a hug. But please don’t shake my hand.

Why don’t we take a little piece of summer sky, hang it on a tree. For that’s the way to start to make a pretty world for you and for me. 
~ Sergio Mendez, Brazil ‘66

My husband gave me an iPod for my birthday. We’re always behind on the tech curve. They’ve been de rigueur for years but with acquired financial stoicism we have foregone most things not truly needed.

I knew an iPod would be nice storage-wise. A portable music alternative, the Scion xB, can only hold so many CDs. Also, changing discs on the hilly, curvy road on which we live is not an option. Our car even came with a special jack for just such auxiliary devices as iPods. Do they know the youth market, or what? Young people may be limited in what they can spend on a car (in which case, my husband Bill and I are eternally youthful) but there’s no compromising on the music, man. I want my, I want my, I want my I P O D !

Now I understand why.

It’s addictive. With the ear plugs, you are in your own little aural world. The master of your parallel universe, transported mentally (if not Star Trek physically) to whatever mood and landscape you desire.

My destination of choice is what I call skating rink music – surely this expression of taste sets me apart from the kids, but it’s the stuff I listened to in my adolescent years as I glided round and round “Broadway Skateland.”

I was crystal-blue persuaded back then of a prettier world than the grim one at home. There was a love train to take me there. Love could make me happy. How could I be sure? “I’ll be sure with you” whoever “you” was— an eventuality I’d just have to wait and see about. In the meantime, I could keep things loose and light by dancing in the moonlight of the faceted mirror ball casting glittery sparkles over the darkened arena.

My kids gave me an iTunes credit card for Mother’s Day. I downloaded lots of ‘60s/70s stuff. Now they’re imprinted in my brain whether I’m listening to the iPod or not. They accompany me through my day.

As I stand next to my husband in church, I tap out the rhythms of the sung prayers on the pew in front of me. Right hand steady beat, left hand intermittent. My internal boom box, to use a retro term, is firmly fixed, my musical formation having been completed long ago. Although it sometimes distracts me from total focus, I don’t mind. How could God hold against me the metronome He put in me? Or the appreciation for something so ethereal as music. God knows it’s been my salvation.

Whether running errands in my boxy little car going up and down the hills, or tapping the rhythms of the music from church, I rejoice in the simple pleasures of my iPod.

No doubt about it, these are very tough times. You are in the minority if your retirement finances have not taken a twenty percent hit. How can you think about retiring when you watch your financial security drain away? Working longer and harder than we had planned is a very real possibility. We are being forced to re-consider retirement. Putting off a planned retirement is likely, and this a bitter pill to swallow. When we equate retirement with not working, not retiring is the only option we have. The truth is, though, that you can retire even while you are working.

The act of retiring, of stopping work, is but one of many events that occur as we enter our late 50s and early 60s. During this period, our forty-year focus on work success gives way to a greater emphasis on our financial, physical, social, and personal well-being. Think back to your early 20s, the time you became a young adult. Taking a job and/or raising a family were some of many adult actions you took. Dating and marriage, experimenting with interests and hobbies, finding a place to live, managing your own money, and taking responsibility for yourself were the challenges and opportunities of the time. Forty years later you are again making decisions about your work and finances, and for your social and personal life. As work was one piece of our early adult growth, so it is again today as we enter this new chapter of adulthood.

Whether you retire from work or decide to keep working, you continue to grow, into your 50s, 60s, and beyond. You can work while also taking on the challenges and opportunities of the retired adult, or as I prefer, the ‘new adult.’ New adults grow past career ambition and focus on personal satisfaction and meaning. This new time of life is not defined only by your work life.

If you know how, you can begin your “retirement” now, even as you work.

Over the past five years, I have found that six out of ten of my pre-retirement clients think that they may work, for money, after they retire. Generally about four out of ten people do continue to work after they formally retire. This is especially true for professionals (doctors, lawyers, accountants, professors) and for business owners who retire by working less and living more. People leaving corporate and government types of jobs tend to look for enjoyable activities – which can include work – after they leave their employer. The ‘retired’ people who work for money are great examples of how you can work and still move ahead. So take heart: although you may have to work, you can continue to build your new adult life.

Transitioning from the forty or so years as a career-focused adult to a new adult begins with a clear shifting of priorities. A man I interviewed for my book Beyond Work (Wiley 2008) described this change as “putting myself in the forefront, in the place work used to be.”

I recently talked with Joe, a 62-year-old supervisor at a manufacturing company, who has seen layoffs occur all around him while his 401(k) is a third less than it was a year ago. He and his wife Amy had planned to retire from their jobs in about six months. Retiring fully is no longer an option, yet they will continue with their plans as much as they are able. He has been happily involved with his town’s Little League since his oldest son joined 32 years ago. He had been asked to take on the lead role once he retired. While he will not have as much time to devote to the league as he would have if he was not working, he still plans to be a great leader, especially now that his oldest grandson is joining the league. Amy will also keep her job at a doctor’s office and will pursue her retirement travel planning, although in a scaled down way. Joe and Amy’s plans have had to change but they have not packed them away for good.

Their lesson is one that can teach all of us. Part of retiring, of becoming a new adult, is a new focus on finding personal fulfillment from life outside of work. Both Joe and Amy have moved beyond career ambitions. For them, that part of life is complete and professionally they have accomplished most of their goals. Now, Little League and traveling are the activities on which they want to spend more time and gain more energy. While financially they are not able to dedicate themselves fully to those things, emotionally they make up a greater part of their lives.

Our finances are one of four challenges and opportunities we encounter as we become new adults. If your finances are compromised, focus on building your physical, social, and personal well-being. A successful retirement depends it.

What to do about retirement when your finances require you to work? Most importantly, you do what you must do and work. Also, talk with a good financial advisor at least once to get an objective view of your situation and what you need to do. And, use this time to strengthen your physical, social, and personal life. Start concentrating on your passions. Now is the time to do more of what you can do and worry less about what you cannot do.

You can continue to work as you ease into your retirement so long as you focus on other things important and meaningful to you. Confidence is your key to success. Confidence is an attitude, and if you know where to focus your energy, you can improve it. I invite you to take the 20-item version of Retirement Confidence Profile at www.beyondwork.net to learn where your retirement confidence is strong and where it is weak. You can then choose one or two areas you could improve. The more you improve, the better your life will be as a new adult, even during these trying times.

Bill Roiter, Copyright 2009. Used by permission of the author.

Bill Roiter’s new book, Beyond Work, is available at Amazon.com.

When I think back to where I was in the year 2000, in the midst of the worst of my midlife changes, I’m totally amazed at how it all turned out. There were many times I felt lost, hopeless, and alone in this journey, but I didn’t give up. Eyes on the prize, even when it seems like an impossible dream!

A midlife crisis is a wake-up call to change the things in our lives that haven’t been working for years but have just seemed too hard to do anything about. Things like difficult emotions, spouses, and careers. It is a timely, natural awakening that tells us we only have so many years left, so if we’re going to change, the moment is now. It also invites us to be adventurous and attempt a “do-over” before it’s all over.

The idea of midlife crisis has been deeply rooted in American culture since it was first mentioned in scholarly research in the 1960s, and then in 1976 in Gail Sheehy’s best seller Passages. But back then, the crises were all for men and were seen as silly self-indulgences (red sports cars!) driven by a fear of aging and impending death. Women were thought to develop differently and were therefore relegated to mere supporting roles, as either the victims of men’s midlife crises or as “trophy wives.”

Thankfully, we have come a long way, baby! Women stopped listening to the “experts” years ago and instead began acknowledging their own spontaneous midlife epiphanies. These life transitions have catapulted them into whole new ways of looking at meaning and purpose in midlife.

Sue Shellenbarger, in her groundbreaking 2005 study The Breaking Point: How Today’s Women Are Navigating Midlife Crisis, found that a startlingly high number of Americans have experienced what they consider to be a midlife crisis, broadly defined as a “stressful or turbulent psychological transition that occurs most often in the late forties or early fifties.”

The data showed that by age fifty, more women than men report experiencing a turbulent midlife transition: a full 36 percent, compared with 34 percent of men. Applying these findings to the 42 million women who are nearing or in midlife today, it can be assumed that more than 15 million women will have or are presently experiencing what they consider to be a midlife crisis.

Most disturbing is the apparent cultural bias against accepting that women think and feel deeply enough to question their choices in midlife and make the needed changes at that time.

Any number of life crises may occur to make us suddenly and completely realize how unhappy we are with where we are in our lives. The more common ones are divorce or the need to consider divorce, job loss, the death of a parent, career change, empty nest, and sudden, unexpected injury or illness or a near-death experience.

Any change or combination of changes that are difficult to deal with, and therefore wake us up to the realization that this is not the life we had pictured for ourselves, are the events that set us on a path toward crisis and eventual life transformation.

Women’s triggers are most likely a family event or problem, from a divorce or a parent’s death to an extramarital affair. Male midlife crisis is more likely to be driven by work or career concerns; women’s turmoil is more likely to be driven by introspection, and women are more likely to attribute their crisis to some new insight about themselves through religion, therapy, or reflection. A realization of failure in meeting parenting goals, for example, is more likely to surface in a woman. Women are also more likely than men to cite personal health problems as the cause of their crisis, including worries about physical attractiveness.

Laura Lee Carter’s new book is - “Midlife Magic: Becoming the Person You Are Inside.”