We were driving in an Uber to East Wiliston to my son’s house for Christmas dinner when we discovered that our 33 year-old driver used to work for Trader Joe’s and regretted quitting after he felt he had been downgraded when his job function was eliminated, but now he had a wife and tiny son and he was considering accepting a pal’s advice to become a police department mechanic for the “security and pension,” or going back to Trader Joe’s (we voted for returning to Trader Joe’s).
Dusty, as she always does to my great irritation, announced that I was the publisher of a newspaper and 91 years old.
“Why are you still working?” our driver quickly offered, and I recalled that most people when they reach their 60s want to take their foot off the accelerator. Indeed, to my recent shock, all of the children of my two deceased brothers and their spouses have just retired!
But the thought of walking away from the paper is unthinkable—it would be instant mental suicide.
“Hi, this is Mitch. After 30 years my landlord has filed papers to evict me. Yah gotta help.” And we do and he gets a money settlement—easy when you are a newspaper, impossible if you are a 91-year-old retired grouch.
— George Capsis
