“Don’t worry, Mom,” my daughter Judy chimed as I expressed concern about the wind and rain in New Orleans generated by Hurricane Laura. “Tulane says we don’t need to evacuate.” I am visiting my college freshman in the Crescent City and this is my first experience with a tropical storm of such magnitude. Having recently watched the Spike Lee series, When the Levees Broke about Hurricane Katrina, I am a little nervous.

The other day I received a puzzling text from my husband, Peter. “RED?” it said. After a moment of confusion, I recognized he was inviting me to Retire Every Day – in this case to join him on the back patio for a glass of wine. Peter’s new ethos – Retire Every Day – doesn’t simply refer to any one activity: it is a conscious decision to practice mentalities and ways of living today, that he previously kept putting off until retirement.  To be clear, my husband is still working. If anything, he’s working longer hours now during the pandemic than he was before. Retire Every Day is simply a manual shift in perspective, from delaying enjoyment to enriching one’s days, today.

New Delhi’s Sarojini Nagar Market. The narrow streets are thronged with young women hoping to update their wardrobes on the cheap. Most of the shops cater to them, but a few “gents clothing” shops have managed to carve out a space in the market as well. As I approach a store with a few racks out front and begin flipping through the shirts a young attendant approaches and says something to me in Hindi. I don’t understand him, but instead pick out a shirt and ask him “yo kitne kya hai?” (How much is this). He tells me its 100 rupees, about $1.50. I switch to English to ask him if they have it in a bigger size. He seems startled, but shows me the same shirt in other sizes. As I go to hand him 100 rupees for the shirt, he smiles and says “No sir, this one is 400 rupees, sir.” I angrily reply that he just, less than a minute before, told me they cost 100. “No sir, actually I meant 400.” It seems he remembered the item’s price only after coming to realize that I was a foreigner.

“Honey, 5 million dollars isn’t what it used to be, I really need 10 million.” My husband and I leaned back in our chairs to eaves drop on the conversation going on at the table behind us. We could hardly believe our ears—or, as it turns out, our good fortune in being entertained by a real-life high-end soap opera episode. My husband has always been keenly interested in the conversations of fellow diners, but this time we were both craning our necks for more. We were celebrating our 30^th wedding anniversary in Lake Como, Italy and, on this early evening, were having cocktails at the famous Villa d’Este—a more stunning, upscale location I have never seen.

With thanks to my son, Peter Minnium Jr, for this guest post.

I met Gus and Lina at a campground outside of Leonidio, Greece, a beautiful community nestled in the rugged hills abutting the Aegean Sea. Leonidio attracts visitors year round with its beauty, fair climate, and perhaps most powerfully, its abundant rock climbing.

“I’m retired, mom,” said my 25 year-old son, in response to my monthly inquiry into his future plans. By now, I am used to his creative explanations as to why he is not grinding away in a junior position in the corporate world, but this topped them all. After I picked up my jaw from the floor and was able to speak again, I asked him to explain his logic. As a Financial Planner specialized in retirement, I waited eagerly to learn something new.

With thanks to my son, Peter Minnium Jr, for this guest post.

I almost fell out of my hammock when I read my dad’s message, “fun dinner with my clients last night and good deal—$600 for the chef’s tasting with wine for four.”  $600 on a meal a good deal? I may never understand the man’s sense of value — and he’s my dad!

“Mom, I’m setting up my tent outside,” announced my world-traveling millennial son shortly after arriving home for a short visit.  “Peter,” I said, perplexed, “I’ve kept your room in perfect condition—your TV, wifi, and air-conditioning are waiting for you!” “No thanks,” he replied, “The house is living too large for me, Mom, I’ve moved on to living small and I don’t want to go back.”

“Arghhhh,” I head from the basement as I puttered around my kitchen on Sunday morning.