The Tigers of Joliet West

The Water Tower and Joliet West High School
Photo courtesy of www.jolietfromabove.com

I looked in the mirror and halfway expected to see a mop of thick black hair and a teenager's furry caterpillar mustache. The face looking back at me wasn’t the one from fifty years ago. In my mind, fifty years wasn’t that long ago. I just needed a time machine and a decent song to get there.  

1975 was a pretty good year for me, and a lot of my friends.  We were high school seniors that year; young dreamers headed for the future. We cruised McDonalds with the Eagles, Linda Ronstadt and Doobie Brothers crankin’ loud.  We took our dates to great movies like Jaws, Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein.  Gas was cheap - about 50 cents a gallon and you could buy a hamburger at McDonalds for about 30 cents. We had it pretty good.  Good things don’t last forever, but good friends can. Especially those who share a bond of shared experience and memories. The class of '75 had held up well for fifty years and there was a lot of positive energy and anticipation for our 50-year reunion.

Two years ago, fellow classmate and songwriter Terry Schnell said to me “we’ve got a reunion coming up - we should write songs”.  Of course I agreed.  Give me a two year lead time, and I can agree to almost anything.  Writing a “one and done” song for a specific occasion didn’t seem like a huge task. Then, about 3 months later, Terry came to town and said “hey, listen to this song that I wrote for the reunion”.  He played it and I was instantly struck by how insanely good it was.  The guy writes and performs like Dan Fogelburg.  I also realized that he had set the bar pretty high and I’d better write a song that didn’t embarrass me in comparison.  The heat was on.

Fast forward to about two months ago.  I had procrastinated and put off writing my reunion song, partially out of knowing it would be played either right before or right after Terry’s song in front of our fellow classmates.  It was just a little intimidating.  While songwriting isn’t a competitive sport, I knew it would be compared to Terry’s, and I didn’t want to be remembered as the guy who wrote the crappy song.  On a Saturday night that I had planned to go see a minor league ball game, the sky turned black, and the rain came down like it was coming out of a firehose.  It was a clear sign from God that I needed to write the reunion song that night. I gathered up my memories and began to write.  

Summing up four years of your life in a couple verses and a chorus takes some effort, but within an hour or so, I had a pretty good first draft of the lyrics and a melody to go with it. It checked all the boxes - good imagery, decent hook, reasonable melody, and above all, not too complex. I recorded a simple version of it with my phone and sent it around to some songwriter friends for feedback. I took some of their ideas and tried them out; I liked the result.  After several rounds of rewrites (typical for me), I was pretty satisfied.  After that, I just needed to play it about a hundred times and burn it into my memory.  I didn’t want to screw it up.

We had the reunion about two weeks ago and over two nights, we partied like it was 1975.  Well, maybe not. But the same old spirit was there. It was amazing to share the old memories and life stories with so many old friends.  On Saturday night, Terry and I took the stage in the front of the room and took turns singing our original songs for a half hour or so. We both finished up with our reunion songs, one after another. As expected, Terry’s song, “Reunion”, was terrific and well received.  I followed with mine, “The Tigers of Joliet West”, which was equally well received. Our classmates and spouses gave us both a standing ovation and requested encore songs, which we were happy to provide.  

It was a pretty amazing experience and afterwards, a lot of people came up to compliment Terry and myself.  Another classmate, Steve Thomas, followed us with his jazz quartet and they were just great for the rest of the evening.  If you wish, you can hear Terry’s song, “Reunion” here and my song, “The Tigers of Joliet West” here. Here are the lyrics to my song.

The Tigers of Joliet West

Bob Schmucker © 2025

The water tower stands, still guarding the high school

Just like it did, 50 years ago 

The buildings are bigger, and I’m a bit older

And it's good to come back home

Looking to the past, I remember the hallways.  

I remember the teachers, the laughter, my friends.

The questions and dreams, as we reached for the future

The issues of life we’d contend

The future it called and each of us answered

We raised up our glasses and hoped for the best

18 years old, how could we have known

What a life time of memories we had

Some went to work, and some went to college

Some joined the Army or or Air Force I’m told

Some they got married and some would die young

And some moved to places unknown

I am a writer, who lives in Virginia

Grateful for each of us here

To hear your life story, and see you again

And cherish the memories we share

The future it called and each of us answered

We raised up our glasses and hoped for the best

18 years old, how could we have known

What a lifetime of friendship we'd have

We’re the Tigers of Joliet West

I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

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September 9th, 1980

    As I look back on my life and career, there several things I look back on and feel like they were really important. September 9th, 1980, was a red letter day for me.  Any success I achieved over the last 45 years can be traced directly back to that day. It began with high winds and torrential rains from Tropical Storm Danielle over Lackland Air Force Base, where I had just completed Officer Training School (OTS) for the United States Air Force.  In the 90 days since my arrival, I had been transformed from a long-haired civilian into an extremely young and inexperienced military officer - otherwise known as a 2nd Lieutenant, a "butter bars" or, if you come from OTS, a "90-Day Wonder". 

    The parade that had been scheduled to mark the commissioning of Officer Training School Class 80-15 was officially cancelled, so we received our commissions and 2nd Lt. insignia in the nondescript barracks classrooms and were told that we should expedite our travel plans as the weather was getting worse. There would be no fancy parade, speeches or throwing our caps into the air for us; just some quick handshakes, a few hugs, and a Captain pinning on my brand new butter bars.  Then, we all packed and left for our technical training assignments.  For me, that meant Aircraft Maintenance Officers Course at Chanute, AFB in Rantoul, Illinois.

    I was OK with the ceremony being cancelled, as I’ve never been much for ceremonial pomp and circumstance. Marching and drill practice weren't my best skills either. My parents had offered to come down to see the parade and commissioning, but I told them it would be ridiculously hot, and they wouldn’t really see much from the reviewing stands. Lucky for them, they didn’t drive the almost 1,200 miles just to get washed out by a tropical storm. 

    My stint as a military officer didn’t result from a long held dream or even any great streak of patriotism. In the bleak job market of 1979 - the year I graduated from Western Illinois University - it looked like the best of several less than impressive opportunities. I could have managed a sporting goods department for K-Mart or a bowling alley somewhere in Iowa. But the call of fighter jets sounded more enticing than either of those options, or even the union carpenter job that I held in college (one, among many jobs along my path). 

    I had no idea how those years would shape my career as I started. My flightline years gave me leadership responsibilities that most people don’t see until at least 20 years into a civilian career. I took MBA classes from Golden Gate University at night in trailer classrooms. Uncle Sam paid for them, and I got the degree. I got to be a part of transitioning the 58th Tactical Training Wing from F-4C fighter jets to the brand new F-16’s, working with logistics experts from Wright Patterson Air Force Base and engineers and support personnel from General Dynamics. It was the most amazing engineering training curriculum you could imagine. Best of all, I got to work with, under and for, many outstanding leaders, who taught me what real leadership and integrity are. That included both non-commissioned and commissioned officers as well as civilians.

    When I separated from the Air Force in 1984 (a horrible decision on my part), I left as an experienced military officer, which is the best calling card in the world when looking for a job. I remember one interview where a top VP looked at me sternly and told me that the job I was interviewing for would have a lot of stress. He asked me very directly how I handled stress. I smiled and told him that I was trained to make hard decisions when bullets were flying and people were dying. Then I asked him what kind of stress they had. He told me that was the best answer he’d ever heard. I got the job.

    Every job I’ve held over the last 45 years can be traced back to a rainy day on September 9th, 1980. I am a ridiculously lucky and immensely fortunate guy to have been blessed with that incredible experience. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. To be honest, I wish that they took old bald guys. I’d go back again in a heartbeat.

    I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

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Elvis Has Left The Building

 

August 14th, 2025 - Elvis Is Gone!

“Retirement is just a dream as far as I can see

Like the dream I had, when I was young, of the good life for you and me”

“Midlife Crisis” by Bob Schmucker (2014)

    Retirement - I’ve been thinking about, dreaming about, writing about and singing about it for a long time. It’s been something of a joke with my family and friends for a number of years. But after about 58 years of toiling away, I’m happy to say that I’ve finally crossed over into the golden years and the land of retirement.

    My work life started early - around the age of 10, I found out I could get paid for pushing a lawn mower around people’s yards and started my first business. This quickly expanded into other services including leaf raking, snow shoveling and cleaning out garages. Profits were used to purchase everything from bicycles and baseball gloves to electronics, beater automobiles and music. Around 15, I started working at various gas stations where I could better fund my social life. I learned to drive trucks, worked in machine shops and as a carpenter for a while. After college, I joined the Air Force.

    The Air Force was great fun as I loved fighter jets and the smell of jet fuel, but eventually I separated from active duty and went to work in the defense industry. I’ve spent the last 40+ years in engineering and manufacturing, doing things like project and program management, reading and writing contracts, and ensuring compliance with all of the federal acquisition regulations and laws. It’s been a good ride, but my ability to juggle 20 things at the same time isn’t what it used to be. My vision sucks and computer screens are taking their toll. Late last fall, after much procrastination, I put the retirement plan in motion. 

    Last week, I officially joined the ranks of the retired. At the moment, it feels like I’ve just got a 500-pound gorilla off my back. Corporate life takes its toll and I’ve been a corporate guy most of my working life. Years ago, I found that I needed more balance in life and started working on what I’ve called my next career, which is writing (blogs, books & songs) and performing my music wherever they have me. It doesn’t pay a lot, but it's far more rewarding and fun. Success won’t be measured in dollars; it will be measured in smiles. 

    Hopefully, there will be many years of smiles to be had with my wife Denise, who’s put up with too many years of me being gone too often (even when I was physically present). Maybe I’ll get to see a bit more of my kids and grandkids too, who are visible reminders of the adage that time waits for no one. My friends who are retired will start to see a lot more of me, which I really look forward to. I’ve got a 50th high school reunion coming up and even wrote a new song for it a couple of weeks ago, after fellow classmate and songwriter Terry Schnell put up the challenge. My song probably won’t be as good as his, but I won’t be empty-handed.

    I also hope to have more time to give back to the community through volunteer efforts. The good folks at Feeding Southwest Virginia have my number and have extended their warm invitation to join them. I think I’m going to do that. Giving back and doing for others - that’s a good goal for retirement.

“I thought by now, I’d be set free from poverty and want

Have a big house and a new car, eat in fancy restaurants

Fly a private jet to the Hamptons, live a life of luxury

I keep on dreamin’ every day of escapin’ reality”

“Midlife Crisis” by Bob Schmucker (2014)

    I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

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A Year Later: My Ukrainian Daughter Book Update

Jenya, Egor and Maksym (2025)

One year ago, I used this blog space to make my big announcement - my manuscript entitled “My Ukrainian Daughter” was 98% complete and I was ready to take the next step.  That next step would be seeking representation by an esteemed and successful literary agent who could use all of their skills and talents to engage publishers.  The publishers in turn would compete to outbid each other for publication rights, each offering large sums of money.  That money would be used to fund the defense and rebuilding of Ukraine.  In my mind, all of this would happen in time to ensure the book was in bookstores and on digital platforms for the holidays.  Aim for the stars is my motto.  

Since then, I occasionally get asked “how’s the book project going?”  Obviously, the initial goals proved to be a little optimistic, but I’m happy to say that the project is still alive and a great deal of progress has been made.  Last summer, I made a major effort to attract a literary agent and, along the way, received some useful feedback.  For starters, I learned that the traditional publishing process is a marathon, not a sprint. For most books, a realistic timeline from manuscript to publication is one to two years after a publisher agrees to publish the book. Given the nature and context of the wartime events at the heart of the story, some details would certainly be outdated by the time of publication.  

I also learned that 40,000 words isn’t enough for most agents to get excited about.  I need to write another 30,000 or 40,000 words to get where it needs to be.  Fortunately, there is a lot more of the story to tell.  Despite the war, life goes on for Jenya, Egor and Maksym.   

Egor's Journey Continues

Egor will soon be 11 years old and is very much a high achiever.  He is killing it in school and recently joined the robotics team.  They design and build robots and compete with other schools.  These aren’t toys - they are like miniature Lunar Landers or Mars Rovers.  Despite being several years younger than other kids on the team, he was chosen to be on the competition team because of his knowledge and leadership.  A missile or drone blew up the building that housed his robotics classes, but they just found another place and kept going.

Egor is also deeply involved in sports, and just yesterday, tested and achieved his purple belt in Taekwondo.  He takes English language classes and talking to him is just like talking to an American kid.  This summer, he’s taking guitar lessons and will no doubt be writing better songs than mine soon.  

Jenya's Resilience and Growth

When Jenya isn’t encouraging Egor to live his best life, she’s busy setting and achieving new goals for herself as a web designer and graphic artist.  She still works for 5Points Creative in Roanoke and from all accounts, wins the award for long distance telecommuting every day!  That’s in spite of frequent power outages from attacks on the Ukrainian power grid and frequent attacks on Zaporizhia City, where they live.  She is also teaching Maksym new computer skills, taking English lessons and above all, proudly supporting her country.

The Road Ahead

There is a lot to write about and the book project is very much alive.  I’ve had detailed discussions with a locally based publisher and, when the time is right, I’ll be proudly announcing that it is available for purchase!  Until then, please keep Jenya, Egor and Maksym in your prayers, along with the country and people of Ukraine.

I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

If you'd like to leave a comment, but you get an error message, it's probably because you have your browser set to reject 3rd party cookies. The solution is to select "anonymous" where the window says, "comment as". Just leave your name or initials if you want to let me know who you are. Thanks for reading this!

Senator Tim Kaine Comes To 3rd Street Coffeehouse

Senator Tim Kaine of Virginia Meeting With Local Ukrainian Community (Photographer Unknown)

During the first week of April, Ukrainians from all over the nation gathered in Washington, DC for the Ukraine Action Summit, Spring 2025. Their goal was very simple - convince the U.S. Congress to continue to fund the defense of their homeland against the brutal and merciless Russian attacks that have just passed the three-year mark. They would knock on every possible door in the halls of power and try to explain why Ukraine mattered, knowing full well that the fate of the homeland rested in the hands of a very divided and remarkably fickle group.

Things haven’t really looked good for Ukraine in many months. Russian missiles, drones and bombs fall like rain on the cities, hospitals, schools and even playgrounds. Shortages in defensive systems and munitions, plus restrictive policies for their use are no match for the seemingly endless supply of Russian weapons. The drastic change in U.S. policy after the elections made the efforts of the Ukrainian community look hopeless, at least to me. The meetings came and went without much (if any) press coverage. Still, my friends from the Roanoke Ukrainian community returned home feeling hopeful that their efforts would pay off. Their main strength is that they never give up. Their hope and courage is inspiring.

Two weeks ago, I got a call from my friend Inna. She told me that Senator Tim Kaine of Virginia was going to meet with the Roanoke area Ukrainian community to brief them on his recent travels to Ukraine, Poland, Germany and Finland. She asked me if they could use 3rd Street Coffeehouse to hold the meeting. They’ve held a number of holiday celebrations at 3rd Street and always come with mountains of wonderful Ukrainian food, so of course I said yes. It was intriguing to me that a U.S. Senator would come to our little music venue to meet with his Ukrainian constituents. Inna asked if Greg Trafidlo and I could perform the song Ukrainian Now that we often perform for their gatherings. They draw strength from the song and songwriters Tom Paxton and John McCutcheon are pleased to know its effect (Greg used to play with Tom and told him).

The big day came, and the Coffeehouse was filled with excitement and, of course, a long counter full of Ukrainian baked delights. Senator Kaine arrived and was welcomed with a large and highly ornate loaf of Ukrainian bread. After a few minutes, he was seated at a small table and the room was hushed as he told of his trip. He recalled being in Ukraine on Palm Sunday, the day that the Russians sent a missile to a playground in Sumy, killing a bunch of kids. His meeting with President Zelenskyy was cancelled as he was responding to the massacre all day, but he met with other leaders. He visited a memorial site in Bucha, where so many were killed in the first weeks of the war. He met with leaders in Germany, Poland, and Finland to get their best views on what was needed. It seemed incredible that all of this was happening at 3rd Street - like a scene out of a movie.

Senator Kaine then took questions for about an hour. They were hard questions from Ukrainian constituents and refugees who were frustrated with America’s shifting policies, values and priorities. Some questions required translation from Ukrainian to English. All were spoken respectfully, but also with great pain, urgency and even despair. Lena spoke of her brother Sasha who had been killed in action just in March. Others spoke of families, friends and entire villages that had once been their homes, now in ruins. Senator Kaine listened to all of them with compassion and answered each fully. He didn’t dodge a single question. It felt like a moment from a history book. You could feel the pent-up emotions from everyone in the room.

Finally, the Senator said “I’ll take one more question and then I’ll join you for some music.” Greg and I took the stage to play Ukrainian Now. The Senator retrieved a well-worn harmonica from his pocket. An accomplished musician himself, he just said “tell what key you’re in and I’ll follow.” And follow he did, like we had rehearsed it for days. Greg and I took a break between verses and Tim filled in with a beautiful solo on the harmonica. There were a whole lot of tears flowing, including Greg and myself. From there, Tim took over and we played This Land Is Your Land, which he led everyone in singing. He finished with a beautiful rendition of Hard Times (Come Again No More) which was written by Stephen Foster in 1854. I’ve played with a lot of really great musicians, but I’ve never had a prouder moment on the stage.

3rd Street Coffeehouse started our 39th year that day. God knew what he was doing when put that little coffeehouse on the corner of 3rd Street and Mountain Avenue. Big things happen there all the time. People are healed. Communities come together to share love, hope, tears, laughter, dreams and music. A lot of prayers are heard there, and a lot of them are answered. Our prayers are with Ukraine. May the war end. May the people and the land be healed. And may we always remember that hope, prayers and love are more powerful than missiles, drones and bombs. Amen

I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

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Medicare Hell (A Cautionary Tale)

This is a blog post I had hoped never to write, as this story doesn’t make me look too intelligent. That said, I hope that you will learn from my mistakes and don’t do what I did!

Back in the fall of 2023, I made the decision to ditch employer provided health insurance and plunge ahead into Medicare. It was an easy decision as I was expecting to retire soon and was tired of fighting with my employer provided plan over things that were supposed to be covered but often were denied. As anyone approaching 62 can tell you, there are plenty of options and you will receive at least 20 official looking envelopes a week from companies that offer Medicare policies. Sooner or later, we all make the jump to Medicare - how hard could it be?  

So, at the beginning of 2024, I traded the comfort of a single line paycheck deduction for 8 separate policies for my wife and myself. We each had Medicare Parts A (hospitalization), B (regular healthcare), and D (prescription meds). Denise took a plan F (supplemental) and I took a plan G (supplemental). We worked with our plan administrator to get all the payments on autopilot, or at least that’s what I thought we did. 

Early in January, I caught COVID, or maybe it caught me. I’m a little fuzzy on the details for that period of time because brain fog is real. From January through July, I felt like my brain was functioning at about 20% of normal capacity. Focusing on anything for more than 30 seconds felt impossible. And just about every day, there would be 2 or 3 official looking envelopes telling me about all of these Medicare policies and I’d toss them all in the garbage without even opening them. Then one day in early August, I opened one up. It informed me that my Medicare Part B policy had been cancelled for lack of payment.

I scratched my head and wondered what was going on. It turned out that the billing for Medicare Part B wasn’t on autopilot. It also turns out that without Part B coverage, you can’t have Part D or G. I was screwed - no health coverage until I got reinstated. I went down to the local Social Security office, pleaded guilty to being an idiot and asked to be reinstated. They told me I needed to pay up the back payments and they’d do their best to get my Part B going again. It was then that I learned that getting reinstated for Part B involves both the Medicare and Social Security teams working together - two gigantic organizations who were both severely understaffed. They warned me, it might take a while. I wrote the check and said a prayer.

My check for the missed payment didn’t even clear the bank for almost two months, but once it did, it gave me hope. I became a regular visitor to my local social security office – every week I’d stop in and ask for an update. I was nice at first but became increasingly agitated. They always told me the same thing - they had no control over any of it - it was out of their hands. I asked, “whose hands it was in?” They couldn’t tell me. None of them. Every week it was the same conversation. I was fed up. In early November, I contacted Senator Mark Warner’s office and asked for help. They said they would, and I was satisfied that I had sic’d the big dogs on them. But still… nothing. Nothing but the same old story - Two gigantic organizations who were both severely understaffed. 

In early December, I got a call from the top supervisor at the Roanoke Social Security Office. They needed another check to cover the time from August 1st to the end of the year. I happened to have the checkbook with me, drove right down and paid the man. I was getting desperate for something to happen. Finally, in mid-December, he called again to inform me that my Part B coverage had been reinstated. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off me – now I could get sick and not have to worry.

The moral of the story is this - don’t ever miss a Medicare payment. I don’t care if you are in a coma and your arms and legs have been amputated. You need to crawl out of your hospital bed and pay that bill. Because once you get the boot, you may never get back on. And not to go political or anything, but you know what’s happening in DC and government offices all over the land. This could happen to you just like it happened to me. You could literally get sick, die and be reborn two or three times before you get it straightened out.

I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

If you'd like to leave a comment, but you get an error message, it's probably because you have your browser set to reject 3rd party cookies. The solution is to select "anonymous" where the window says, "comment as". Just leave your name or initials if you want to let me know who you are. Thanks for reading this!

This Blog Post Could Save Your Financial Life!

What would happen to your personal finances if you were incapacitated for a period of time?  Would your bills get paid?  Would taxes get filed on time?  Would you you get sued or your credit take a nosedive because nobody had the legal authority to access your money?  I got a big wakeup call on this very subject late in January and I learned some pretty important lessons that are worth sharing. If you have any kind of financial obligations in life, you’d best listen up - this could save your financial life.

Back in 2009, a very good friend of the family was dealing with breast cancer. At the time, she didn’t know how the disease or her treatment would affect her ability to manage her affairs, so she asked if I would step in if needed.  I said OK, and she had her attorney draw up what is known as a “Durable Power of Attorney” (POA) granting me the legal authority to manage her affairs.  As it turned out then, her treatment was effective, and I never had to step in.  The document was filed and forgotten.  Around the same time, my wife Denise suffered a stroke, and our social life took a big hit.  Our friend took another job in a different city, and we fell out of touch except for the occasional greeting on Facebook.

Fast forward to December of 2024.  Our friend suffered a brain bleed and ended up hospitalized - a traumatic brain injury is what it’s referred to.  This resulted in memory loss and, being hospitalized, she wasn’t able to manage her affairs. Her family tried their best to handle things, but in the days of ultra-high bank security, they weren’t able to access her funds. Someone remembered her saying that she had a signed POA, and I was somehow involved.  They hunted me down on Facebook.  I looked for and found the POA and sent it to the family and, after some discussion, it was agreed that I was in the best position to tackle the role.  It’s been an education to say the least. 

Imagine that you suffer a serious injury or disease that sidelined you, either temporarily or permanently.  Did you know that your spouse or significant other / family member / friends can’t legally access your accounts or assets unless their name is on the account or title? They can’t sell your assets if needed to pay your medical bills.  If you are smart like my friend was, you’ll find someone that you trust and have a POA drawn up and executed (signed and notarized) so that if something happens, your affairs can be handled efficiently and legally.  If this isn’t in place, it can take months to get a court ordered conservator appointed to manage your affairs.  As I’ve discovered, a POA is as important as having a Will or Advance Medical Directive.

Here’s are 5 big things a POA can do for you:

• You get to appoint someone that you trust (your agent) to manage your affairs, not just whoever is available or steps up in a crisis (qualified or not). This allows you to choose someone you trust to act in your best interests and follow your preferences.

• It helps to reduce and hopefully avoid family stress, anxiety and disagreements during an already extremely stressful time, and you can recover without having to worry about your financial affairs.

• The person you choose can step in quickly and prevent bad things from happening to your credit.  The last thing you need during your recovery is to be badgered by collection agencies calling on you and not caring that you are disabled.

• By clearly outlining the agent's powers and limitations, a power of attorney can help prevent unauthorized actions and protect you from potential financial exploitation.

• Your agent can interact with various agencies and companies on your behalf, resolving issues and making arrangements when you're unable to do so.

So, what’s the next step?  If you’ve already have a POA in place, sit back and relax or maybe share this post to others who might still need it.  If not, you can consult with a lawyer to see what’s required where you live or even use Legal Zoom or other online legal resources.  It may cost you a few hundred bucks, but if the time ever comes, it is a really important thing to have for both you and your family.  None of us are immune from things that can rob us of our independence and freedom, but this is one thing that you can do in advance to protect everything that you’ve worked for all of your life.

I welcome your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Please share this post with others who value both humor and serious stuff about this blue marble that we all share.

If you'd like to leave a comment, but you get an error message, it's probably because you have your browser set to reject 3rd party cookies. The solution is to select "anonymous" where the window says, "comment as". Just leave your name or initials if you want to let me know who you are. Thanks for reading this!