Sixty-five and older—are we the rich or the poor?

by Pat Laster

The one bud on the Thanksgiving cactus turned out to be four. They are now in full pink bloom. If holly berries count as blooming plants, then add two more. The beautyberry (French mulberry) is bereft of its yellow leaves, so arcs of purple clusters bend in the wind.
Pansies now grace places around the porch. A yellow one is in memory of Uncle Rolla Scott, Mom’s brother, a Marine, who returned home from dangerous missions during World War II, stayed in the Reserves and was called back to Korea.
I planted another pansy in memory of cousin David Pelton, my Dad’s sister’s oldest boy, a Navy veteran. Two more are in memory of Wathena and J. A. Bard, Mom’s sister and husband—my aunt and uncle. She was an Army nurse and he was a pilot.
The newspaper reveals this information: The typical US household headed by a person 65 or older has a net worth 47 times greater than a household headed by someone under 35, according to analysis of census data.
The median net worth of 65- or-older households is $170,494, 42% more than in 1984. Value is considered a home, possessions, savings, investments, bank accounts, land, cars, and boats. Not me—only one car, no land and no boat!
Young adults are facing the highest unemployment since WWII. I’m likely to have a grown grandson living at home for quite a while.
Social Security accounts for 55% of elders’ income. Not mine—I’d be on the dole if that were so.
In a later issue, facts seem to conflict. First, I read this: Americans 65-and-older sustained the largest increases in poverty under the revised formula—one in six—because of rising Medicare premiums, deductibles and expenses for prescription drugs.
The next entry of my journal seems to contradict the first: Because of Social Security, only nine percent of seniors -- or 3.5 million -- live in poverty. Two different articles, two different subjects. Whom to believe? Maybe I’m missing something.
Also, the poverty line equals $11,139 for an individual and $22,314 for a family of four.
“Summer is a-comin’ in, loudly sings cuckoo,” is the beginning of a Middle English round I’ve known for a long time. Let’s parody it with “Winter is a-comin’ in,” but use a poem I wrote-–not a song to be sung.
“A Poem for the Coming Winter” (a Dorsimbra pattern) by Pat Laster: The hardwoods, during autumn’s rain and frost/ and wind, surrender, drop their leaves on earth/ to blanket, nourish, turn—the greenness lost./ Those leaves blow free until they find a berth.//
Knowing winter lurks/ voles and mice scurry to find shelter. / Geese gather, their/ pilgrimage imminent.//
While breezes vagabond through valleys, hills,/ all humankind—inside, nest-warm—prepares/ to feast, give thanks, and watch for changes in/ the hardwoods during autumn’s rain and frost.//
© 2011, lovepat press