14 Apps for Retirees

About once a week I download apps whose only appeal is that they're free. So I have dozens -- maybe hundreds -- of apps that, like old shirts from high school, are out of sight, out of mind, unlikely to be seen or used  again.

Today, however, I came upon 14 apps that are useful to retirees. 

1. AARP -- A shortcut to the best that's available at the AARP website.

• For iPad 
• For Android 

2. Elderly Care Guide -- A lot of retiring boomers have a big problem -- taking care of elderly parents. 

3. Mint -- Keep track of money. 
4. Check -- Similar to Mint, but with some interesting extras. 
5. Retirement Planner -- Important financial shtick 
6. Lumosity -- A bazillion ways to train your brain and have a little fun at the same time.
7. Words With Friends -- An awesome word game that keeps you connected.
8. Baby Boomer Dates -- A legit dating site for anyone over 45. 
9. Ultimate Baby Boomers Guide -- How to age, exercise and manage change  (not free). 
10. WebMD -- Info for anyone with a pulse. (for Apple, Android and Kindle) 
11. Urgent Care -- A registered nurse answers questions and, if needed, has a licensed physician call back within 30 minutes. 
12. VZ Navigator -- Tells you where to go (without insults), plus restaurants, gas stations, more...
13. Find My Phone... Ooops... Where-the-hell did I put it? Use this app on another device. 
14. Lots more for retirees at the Google Play Apps Store -- Just search "retiring."

Retirement Cookies II -- More Taste, Less Smoke

Cookies rock -- they are one thing I would definitely pack if I were going to be abandoned on an island. And not the packaged variety. I'd want something right out of the oven, made with my own two hands. 

In retirement, I'm becoming a kitchen ninja with cookies as my throwing stars -- I mean, these are killer cookies. As you'll see in the video, I've come a long way since my first pathetic batch. 

Karl Walenda, an Inspiring Retiree

On his last day at work, Karl Walenda walked a high wire between the two towers of the ten-story Condado Plaza Hotel in San Juan, Puerto Rico. I walked to Starbuck's. Two very different approaches to retirement. 

Whereas I've ended up with a non-fat, no-whip mocha, Karl finished his 1-second retirement kissing the concrete. Of course, he also got worldwide attention. I got a farewell party with about 20 or so colleagues ("So long and thanks for all the fish"). This raises some questions: What am I going to do in retirement? How exciting do I want it to be? Would I rather amble a half mile for coffee or stagger on a wire stretched 121 feet above a street? My answers won't come all at one time. But I have been doing my research.

I've mentioned volunteerism a number of times in my posts. Coaching kids' basketball crossed my mind. But watching Karl tip-toeing on a high-altitude thread at age 73 has stirred something unexpected. A little envy. A bit of shame for being so wimpy in my choices. And the realization that I can do something exciting, because I'm still able. Now I'm thinking whitewater rafting, hiking the Appalachian trail, vein-popping bodybuilding. But I know me, inside and out. I'll probably gravitate to things like creating a comic book, traveling, astronomy, going into politics with the unrealistic goal of rebuilding the world... my retirement is a work in progress.

So, watch for me. But don't look up. I probably won't be there.

A Retiree's Dog Days

I met Henry in the surgical waiting room at Henry Ford Hospital in West Bloomfield, Michigan. We shook hands, a fairly regular first-time greeting, quick, polite. I couldn’t read his face but he didn’t seem as surprised to run into me as I was to see him. Then he licked me. 

Black Labradors are friendly, but Henry lit up everything within10 feet. The woman holding his leash said, “He’s part of the hospital’s Pet Therapy program.” Her name was Helen, according to the name stitched on her pocket. “He’s an official employee of the Volunteer Services Department.” He even had a an "official employee" badge on his vest – it was attached to the leash and had a little badge that said, “Pet me.” So I did… and got another lick in return . 

Some kids about four or five years old spotted Henry and jumped all over him. His tail wagged a little faster but he didn’t seem at all bothered. Helen scratched his ear. “He's well trained, aren't you, Henry?”

As she told me her and Henry’s story I found out that Helen was retired and a volunteer who took Henry around to meet patients, employees and people like me – I was waiting while my wife was having surgery. Henry didn't leave my side, not even under attack by the kids. I think he sensed my tension. I have to say, just having him there was soothing. 

Helen took six weeks of classes to learn her job of handling Henry. “It’s the best volunteer experience I’ve had – and I’ve burned through a lot of them since I retired. I take him to patients in speech and physical therapy. I stop and talk when he runs into people like you who’re waiting – dogs can tell when you’re stressed, you know? Just having Henry around lowers patients’ blood pressure, makes them feel less lonely, puts everyone -- employees too -- in a good mood. Everyone knows him.”

As a recent retiree I had a few ideas about how and where to volunteer, but something like this

These Black Lab pups are in line for the extensive
training that will make them care dogs. 

hadn’t occurred to me. Helen said that she'd found a lot of potential jobs at Volunteer Match, an organization that matches retirees like me with jobs that I want -- and have the ability -- to do. It opened up an entirely new set of possibilities for me. I thanked her, gave Henry a good scratch under the chin and got a good-bye nose on my hand.

Max came out of surgery about an hour later. She was fine and has a few weeks of recovery ahead of her. And, thanks to Henry, I was fairly calm when I saw her. That, in turn, relieved her a bit. So  a little bit of Henry went a long way.

Among the things I learned from the experience is that there are more ways to enrich my retirement than I thought possible -- an old dog can learn new tricks. 

Retired, in Need of Intelligent Life Forms

Before I retired, I spent at least 8 hours a day at work surrounded by colleagues. Most of them bipeds. Some with opposable thumbs. A few with prefrontal cortex. One or two able to use tools. But all of them friendly and capable of communication. Now I start my day started in complete silence. 

It’s wonderful but different. Almost spooky. Today, by nine o'clock; I had checked email and admitted that it's unlikely I'll get any more surprise retirement parties. The clock hit 10, and no one had badgered me for a report, which was a good thing. On the other hand, the clock hit 10, and no one had badgered me for a report. The quiet was deafening. I decided to search for intelligent life forms to replace those I had left behind.

I started at home, letting the water drip in the kitchen sink, adjusting it till the beat was perfect for “Sergeant Pepper’s” -- in my head, the Beatles were gathered in my office while I went about editing my Linked In profile, which was soon followed by messages of congratulations (Nice going! Don't have to sit in a noisy office all day! Enjoy it!) I walked to the shopping mall and wrote while the voices of buying and selling floated around me. I stopped for a late lunch where a waitress kept asking me if I wanted more coffee. I had discovered what I'll call a state of "semi-sensory deprivation." Perfect.

When Max walked through the door after her day at work, she told me about her afternoon meeting, the snowy drive home, the idiot in the parking lot. I had another intelligent life form in the house. Some gentle noise. Good conversation. I'm finding that retirement is a lot about learning to be alone, something I thought I knew how to do but really don't. Now I'm alone -- on my own terms.

Retiring -- A Piece at a Time

I had the wrong idea about retirement. I thought I’d be employed one day, and completely retired the next. But it turns out that I'm retiring a piece at a time. There are parts of me -- ankles, elbows, liver, nose, etc. -- that are on the beach, enjoying the view, so to speak. But there are other pieces that still go to work every day. Worst of all, my head -- it still wakes up thinking about the office ventilation problems, my wobbly chair, bad coffee, a shifting desktop and who’s bringing the bagels.  The key to getting my head to retire, I decided, was to get out of my comfort zone – stretch my mind, do something abnormal, go a little crazy. So I went to IKEA.

 What an unusual day. I lunched on a smoked salmon while, 50 feet away, a woman bought a bathroom sink. I learned how a human being could live in 180 square feet (which I had already learned in college, although not yet completely human). And I bought wire shelving that (the box promised) would support an aircraft carrier and could be put together in 30 minutes – if I were a nuclear physicist. Unfortunately, I'm not a nuclear anything and the assembly has eaten up my the day and all of my patience. But I’m a retiree… I have the rest of my life to figure out how parts 1A and 6C connect rod-F to rack-4.

 So, getting into new adventures is working -- I hear my mind saying good-bye to office routines. I think my head is going to retire sometime soon and join the rest of me. Maybe I’ll throw myself another party.

How Conservatives Have Twisted Language

I can't stand it anymore. Dictionary-challenged folks (mostly Republicans and Tea Partiers) keep using the word "entitlement" to describe Social Security and Medicare as gifts that a lot of lazy, undeserving riffraff (we retirees who otherwise couldn't afford to retire) receive when we hit retirement age. Not true! Send these conservative high school dropouts back to class for their GEDs! 

Social Security and Medicare are entitlements because the people who receive them have already paid for them -- with the FICA tax that came out of their earnings throughout their entire working careers, and they're entitled to get what they paid for.

The programs work. They don't contribute to the national debt. And my head is going to explode if I hear someone misuse "entitlement" one more time. (KABOOM!... that's what I get for listening to a conservative newscast.)

Retired -- Will Work for Food

Sometimes, for no apparent reason, there are mornings like this – one person's up, the other one's down. On this particular morning, I was up. It was Max who still had to go to work. Putting on her coat, looking around, she had a dark look. "This place is a mess," she said.

I had to agree. But it was too dangerous to mention that at least half of it was hers. She looked over the top of her glasses. "Maybe we could hire a retiree for the day? To do a little neatening?" Her eyebrows bobbed a couple of times. "Yes?"

“A retiree would be much too expensive."

"If the retiree is smart, he'll work for food."

Then we went through the typical morning exit. A peck on the cheek. Adios, amigo. The door slam -- she always went away and came back with gusto -- and I was alone, thinking that a little elbow grease and a tidy house just might snip her funk in the bud and make things less treacherous for me. I rubbed my hands together and got to work.

A splash of water. A glob of soap. Dishwasher doing its thing. Spoons with spoons. Forks with forks. Oranges with oranges. Tangerines in a nice little pyramid. Cucumbers parallel in the crisper. Army-perfect in the pantry. Shipshape in the bathrooms. Very nice -- until I scanned the walls. Oh my...

We have a lot of art, and all of it hung like the Room at Arles -- nothing parallel. Not one frame straight. Getting this right, I knew, would be time-consuming but necessary for the Homes and Gardens look I was going for. I got my level and went to work putting the bubble in the middle, nudging, teasing, going wall to wall, room to room, until every piece of art was perfect. 

I looked around. All was neat as a pin, straight as an arrow. Martha Stewart, eat your heart out And there were still a few hours to go until Max got home. I puttered around, waiting to show her that a retiree had shown up and worked for food. 

It seemed to take forever -- the watched pot and all that – but I finally heard her car, then her voice ("I'm home!") and then the door slamming with its usual gusto, sending a minor quake through the walls, maybe 2.0 on the Richter. Frames tilted, tangerines rolled, apples mixed with oranges. She looked around. "I guess the retiree didn’t show up, today. Nothing looks any different."

"You might want to check the cucumbers." 

She did, and I ate well that night. But what a day. No matter how long you work, no matter how hard, things never work out exactly as you hope they will. Not even in retirement.

Flight of Fancy -- My Day as Sherlock Holmes

I have always been given to flights of fancy -- within an hour I have been a Sherpa in Nepal, a corpuscle in a trouble heart, a gargoyle on the west wall of Notre Dame -- and, in retirement, the opportunities to live inside my head have multiplied. And today, or at least part of the day, I was Sherlock Holmes. My objective: to observe the curious aspects of Max, my wife, to learn who she really be, what she's capable of, and why.

I started in the kitchen where I discovered the corpse of a Granny Smith apple, hacked to pieces, and a knife nearby. The scene played itself out in my head... the blade slashing through defenseless fruit. Sickening but elementary. 

The map on the table caught my eye -- she had circled London and Paris where she obviously had prepared her hideaways. A few inches to the side lay a travel brochure, apparently to distract my eyes from the map  It was an easy deduction: the murderous wench would be gone by end of day.

Twenty minutes later in her closet I discovered exactly 50 pairs of shoes -- not 49, not 51, but 50... precisely 100 shoes. "Oh my god," I said aloud. "The love of my life is a centipede."

"What did you say?" There she was, in the doorway holding the weapon that had mutilated that unfortunate apple. Her blank expression gave nothing away. She simply said, "I know that look. Who are you today?"

Rule number one when facing a felon with a knife: Don't agitate them. Tell the truth, which I did. "Sherlock Holmes, 221B Baker Street."

She nodded as if she knew more about my day than I did. "Well, Sherlock, Watson and I are about to have a little snack. Come and get it or fix your own."

Thus ended my day as Sherlock Holmes. The fruit and cheese were delicious. 

Retirement Cookies -- Smoke Gets in My Eyes

These three survivors of batch number four still
weren't chew-able but did come in handy for leveling a shelf

Never eat the first batch of retirement cookies. Do not feed them to your dog (or the vet, for that matter). Do not throw out; call your local bomb-disposal unit. Having said that, let me add: Don't give up. I didn't, and it all worked out. Consider my recipe for success...

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees (preferably Fahrenheit)
2. Collect ingredients: 1 cup peanut butter, 1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/4 cup Splenda, 2 egg whites, 1 tsp baking soda (not powder), 1/2 tsp vanilla (extract, not beans)
3. Dump in bowl, smash well, making sure to spray evenly on flooring, walls and counter tops.
4. Put in oven until smoke alarms go off.
5. Call sister you rarely speak to. Beg for help. 
6. Bake batch after batch until one meets standards of American Dental Association.
6. Stack perfect cookies on large plate.
7. Say, "Of course, do you think I'm an idiot?" every time your spouse asks, "Did you really make these yourself?"

So, not only did I bake somewhat edible retirement cookies, today. I also learned that baking is nothing more than a combination of chemistry, heat, a patient sister, an incredulous wife and the ability to lie through one's teeth. Try it. It makes a tasty retirement treat.

Now What?

There was moment, shortly after waking on the first day of retirement, when a question at the back of my head made my eyes pop open: “Now what?”

I had great plans – lots of plans – that I’d been piecing together for several years. But it suddenly became clear that I had goals, not plans, which is like having a shoe without a foot – the shoe looks good but it’s not going anywhere by itself. I needed a foot to get from Point A, my first day or retirement, to Point B, my objective. And I needed to map a path between the two, which meant I had to ask and answer a few more questions: “Where do I start?” “What do I do, exactly?” “How much time should I give myself?”

My first response was to make a list. Unfortunately, item number one turned out to be “Make a list.” What followed was an hour of pencil-tapping, email-checking, snacking, followed by pen-clicking, snail-mail checking and more snacking, after which I wrote item number two: “Start a diet.” Number three: “Write down everything you want to do,” because objectives come and go when they’re only in your head, but on paper they’re a special kind of torture that doesn’t stop until you cross them off. Number four: “Share your experience.” I think retirement is going to teach me something, and the best way to reinforce what you learn is to explain it to someone else… which turns out to be the purpose of this blog – I’m going to let you retire with me. Maybe we’ll both learn something.