Continuing The Walk, 4

The view from my apartment window is mostly dusted in large, dry snowflakes today, though this rain that is nearly ice might change that. I am deciding when to venture outside with Pearl, my terrier mix. She would choose to go out now, but there are things to consider that she doesn’t consider: it’s cold out there on little feet and a little low rider like her is going to get wet, no matter how many jackets we put on her, especially a low rider that explores like she does. One look at her, pointing at her soccer ball, convinces me that I need to take her out for the air, even if it’s only a short gallivanting walk. We suit up in our cold weather gear together; I have learned to put mine on first, otherwise Pearl’s patience wears thin as she stands, stiff in her two jackets and harness, watching me go through my own process.

We step out the door, looking both ways as we’ve learned to do in order to avoid foot traffic and threats, such as skateboards and wanderers with hard-edged dogs without leashes. Today, the sidewalk is empty and calm, though evidence of the Saturday evening crowd at the Peacock (the infamous bar across the street) is littered in stark contrast with the white snow. Small patches of yellow mark the places where the last customers relieved themselves after 2:30 am, when the bar closed. Corvallis, according to on poll, ranks the 20th/22 most drunk town. Pearl is checking everything out by sniffing every new scent in her path.

This morning, we walk to the left. There is a fire hydrant Pearl enjoys sitting next to in warmer weather. I think she might like to check in with it today. We walk past the parking lot, a place I rarely use because the parking patrol pays particular attention to it. I get my hair cut at Salon 101. Garrett, my hair guy, does a great job and he happens to have a terrier named Oliver that looks a lot like Pearl. Oliver is one of the Downtown Dogs I painted last year; one of my favorite paintings. We walk on to the end of the block to the hydrant, covered in at least an inch of snow, right outside Squirrel’s Tavern (another fixture of downtown Corvallis). Today there are no customers sitting in the outdoor area, but usually there are humans and dogs dining together. Pearl has learned to walk on by, even if growled at by either.

Pearl hasn’t an interest in the hydrant today, and requests that we turn right, toward the Julian Apartment building and the river. Just last week, Pearl learned that Gettu, her best dog friend, lives in the Julian Apartments with her human, Michael. Gettu and Michael are sometimes enjoying a romp in the grass swath at the river park at the same time we are, which always means at least 15 minutes of playtime/entertainment for passing pedestrians. Even though Gettu is much bigger than Pearl, she doesn’t spare Pearl from her best wrestling moves, often taking Pearl to the ground and waving her open mouth playfully. We don’t see Gettu or Michael today though, so Pearl busies herself by checking in on “the morning news”–all the scent messages left by animals along the river. She leaves her own message for the next dog.

After playing in the grass together for awhile, we begin the amble back to the right again, toward home. It’s cold out. Kicking the soccer ball ahead helps keep Pearl going in the right direction. We pass Flat Tail Brewery, Bellhop (THE place to get chocolate pie), and Tried and True coffee shop. Usually Pearl and I stop in at the door to say hello to the Barrista, but we don’t know this one and she is busy. We walk on, across the street after sniffing the corner garden in front of Irenes’, where I work some days. Pearl lets me know she would like to walk left, toward the dog park, but I enforce a right turn. She takes it all in stride.

We’re back at the front door of the apartment building. Pearl has done her job–getting me outside. Now she’ll continue doing her job as we go in, by just being her companionable, lovely self. I’m happy to share an apartment with this little dog. She makes me very happy and I think I’m not the only one she makes happy.img_0790

 

Social Security

It has taken me a lifetime and a sudden change of circumstances to realize that I live life completely differently when I am without the “security” of job benefits like health insurance and retirement accounts. I’m only 15 years away from receiving Social Security and part of me can’t wait.

When I taught as a public school teacher, a percentage of my paycheck always went into my retirement account every month, like clockwork. I felt secure that when retirement came I’d have everything I needed readily accessible.

Now, I am  no longer a part of the public system, or any system. The money I put into PERS during my 17 years of teaching is locked up until I reach the age of 55 (due to tax penalties and since I am not adding to it currently). It’s taking me longer than expected to make the transition from teacher to. . . something else, and I have no money to add to my future savings. In fact, I’m using up my reserves but hopeful about job perspectives still.

This difficult transition has taught me about another kind of social security: relying on friends–really being forced to ask for help, I mean. Throughout the past two years I have made decisions both good and bad, which have brought me right back to where I began, which is looking for a job that is not teaching. I have found some friends more patient with me than others as I stumble through this part of my life. Some just shake their heads and turn away because it’s too painful to watch. Others sit down with me and talk, even though it’s painful.

These friends who walk with me are far more valuable than the Social Security that may (or may not) come to me in 15 years. They are the ones who keep me in this game; without them, I would have dropped out long ago. I live life now, knowing that it is necessary to rely on others–that I cannot do this life alone. Retirement accounts and Social Security might falsely convince one that one is infallible, prepared for anything.

While I know that saving money is a necessity for my future well-being, I also know now that honest and heart-felt friendships are imperative for my present well-being. This is what I am currently investing in. I am living my life as if it depended on my friends, because it does, and I don’t want to forget it.