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MY WIFE WAS STILL waking up from the general anesthesia. She’d had a Cesarean, or C-section. Meanwhile, I was in the nursery, helping the nurse record my newborn son’s vitals.
The Harry Chapin song Cat’s in the Cradle came over the loudspeaker. For readers unfamiliar with the song, it tells the story of a dad who is more interested in his job than his son. Having kids was never my priority. Making money was, so I took this as a sign from above. I looked up and said, “I got it.”
Now, I wish I could tell you that, from that moment on, I was Super Dad. I wasn’t horrible, but I also wasn’t a model father. Money was still what was most important to me, much to my wife’s chagrin.
According to the Social Security Administration, our son is a DAC, or disabled adult child. To be classified as a DAC, you must have a permanent disability which impedes your ability to function, and the disability must have occurred prior to age 22.
A DAC is entitled to a parent’s earnings record for purposes of Social Security. The sum a DAC receives can, however, be reduced if others are receiving benefits based on the earner’s lifetime income, notably the earner’s spouse.
Knowing this limitation, I calculated at what age my wife’s own earnings record would result in a higher benefit than her spousal benefit, which would be equal to 50% of my benefit as of my full retirement age. Using that information, we waited until that age for her to begin collecting Social Security, leaving my son as the only family member claiming benefits based on my earnings record.
It used to be that IRA beneficiaries—including the original account owner’s children—could draw down an inherited IRA over their lifetime. This provision was changed, so accounts must typically be emptied within 10 years. But there are some exceptions, including one for DACs. That’s one more benefit that my son’s entitled to, at least for now.
Volunteering is often touted as a wonderful way for retirees to spend their time, helping them to avoid social isolation and giving them a sense of purpose. I don’t buy it. I look at volunteering as working for free. You still need to work for the man—or woman—doing what you’re told, but now you aren’t getting paid for it. The heck with that. Still, I’ve come up with an activity that provides the same benefits, but on my terms.
My son is obsessive-compulsive when it comes to trash. If he sees it, he picks it up. No matter how dirty it is. No matter where it is. This would drive his mother crazy. Every time he’d reach down to pick up trash, she would yell at him.
To channel my son’s compulsion into something less likely to trigger family arguments, I decided to take him out on daily walks to pick up neighborhood trash. He wears gloves and a day-glo vest, uses a grabber, and carries two or more plastic shopping bags to collect and separate recycling from trash. We bring these bags back to the house and empty them into our trash cans for curbside pickup.
In the beginning, our neighbors didn’t know what to make of this intrusion on their privacy. My son would see paper or aluminum cans wind-blown on their lawns, walk over, pick it up and walk away. In the beginning, I guess they thought he was casing their property, looking for something of value to steal. But they soon realized all he was doing was helping keep their property clean.
Now, when they see us, they might thank us, give us a wave or toot their horn. They don’t know us. They just appreciate what we do. My son pretends he doesn’t hear these compliments, but he does and a big smile comes across his face.
My job is to make sure he does a good job. As we walk the neighborhood, my son will replay a mental tape of a TV show or YouTube video that he’s seen. Because he’s focusing on the mental movie he’s watching, and telling me what he’s seeing, he doesn’t always see all the trash. That’s my job. I shout his name and point to the trash. He then stops talking and picks it up.
In my studies of retirement lifestyle, I often see it mentioned that, during their go-go years, retirees spend money on golf, travel and entertainment, which potentially creates financial problem down the line. Many risk running out of money, especially if their portfolio gets hit with a bad sequence of returns early in retirement. Volunteering can slow down this spending spree, giving retirees something to do that doesn’t cost much.
To that end, this trash collecting with my son has a number of positives:
I spend quality time with my son. It doesn’t cost anything, other than purchasing a new grabber whenever one breaks. We’re doing something good for the town. We walk, so we’re getting exercise and reducing our carbon footprint. It makes my son feel good when he hears the shout-outs. We’re deciding when and where we should gather the trash, so it gives my son a sense of autonomy.
Although I was never a Cat’s in the Cradle father during my working years, retirement has allowed me to be with my son far more. I don’t know how many more years I have, but I’m grateful that I’ve been given this gift of time with my son.
I busted my butt to get a college education. Do you think I’m proud of picking up other people’s trash? And yet there’s nothing I’d rather do. What I have is worth more than all the money in the world: time with my son.
David Gartland was born and raised on Long Island, New York, and has lived in central New Jersey since 1987. He earned a bachelor’s degree in math from the State University of New York at Cortland and holds various professional insurance designations. Dave’s property and casualty insurance career with different companies lasted 42 years. He’s been married 36 years, and has a son with special needs. Dave has identified three areas of interest that he focuses on to enjoy retirement: exploring, learning and accomplishing. Pursuing any one of these leads to contentment. Check out Dave’s earlier articles.
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We have a profoundly disabled 40-year-old son with blinding schizophrenia. His medication regime and health care needs are overwhelming and I need to get help with it all, as I’m 67 and starting to need help myself. We do not have any close friends or relatives who might be able to help with him. We are moving to an area where he will at least have some cousins, although we’re unsure how much they can really help him. He needs to be in a 24 x 7 care facility. We had set up a trust, along with a follow-on special needs trust. Our executor died, and when we tried contacting the trust administrator, discovered they had gone out of business. Then we consulted with another special needs attorney, and he told us the plan we had set up did not actually apply to our son. A trusted elderly friend suggested we need to set up a better plan with financial advisors. We are flumoxed by this, as we always thought that lawyers would oversee a very well-funded (for now at least, unless we have some sort of catastrophe) trust for our son & assign people to care for him. Now we are unsure what to do. Any advice? Please do not tell me to go to NAMI as my son’s needs are not addressed by this group.
THANK YOU for this meaningful and moving article…and for being a great Dad.
David, thank you for sharing this touching article about the good work you and your son are doing for your community. I, too, am a father of a special needs child who is in her early 20s and trying to figure out the next part of her life. She currently receives SSI but we are hopeful she will be gainfully employed one day. I didn’t know about DACs’ entitlement tied to a parents’ social security record. Thanks for the education. It shows I still have plenty to learn before retiring in 5-10 years.
I know special needs families are relatively few in number, and Humble Dollar is focused on larger audiences. But here’s hoping you write more about navigating the complex world of health insurance, government benefits, and financial planning for families with special needs children.
It’s a shame that there is trash on the ground to begin with. But given that there is, it’s nice that it gives you and your son fulfillment.
A beautiful story. Thanks for sharing. Wish you a wonderful 2024!
I have a lot in common with your son and you, as, for years, I’ve been spending at least 15 hours a week picking up litter with a large bag and grabber while jogging, walking or riding a bike. There may be more people who think I’m a crank than thank me, which few do, but it seems to be a useful community service and is very much an exercise motivator.
So sweet. Accepting the son you have (and the wife!) is a great first step toward contentment. Embracing that reality is even better. I hope to do the same–again, and more often!
Thanks man! You have a way of making me think with your writing. We align nicely with the first part of your story and the ol job being such a draw on time. I’ve been sorting decades of pictures for a few weeks and from time to time, looking and remembering back when.
As I was becoming a young man, folks said that life goes quickly. I do know that they are correct.
It’s so cool you can connect with your boy and give him memories to reflect on of time with his Dad.
Ignore the commercial aspect of the link, but you’ll likely enjoy the rest. It’s what you and your son are doing, “plalking!” I do it while walking my naughty beagle.
https://www.keenfootwear.com/blogs/keen-blog/lets-go-plalking-wait-what#:~:text=Yep%2C%20you%20read%20that%20right,it's%20actually%20a%20growing%20movement.
Thanks for the link. My wife and her sister started picking up trash on their daily walks several years ago and today they find very little, if any, trash. Apparently, people are starting to get the message.
Great article. The Chapin song is a great reminder to spend time with our children when they are young. Like many, when our kids were at formative ages, I spent way too much time at work. I had a high pressure job and there was always a fire to put out or more to do.
Although I did spend time with our kids, my biggest regret is that I did not spend more time with them. They turned out well and we have good relations with both of them. But you never get that time back.
Parents of young children should listen to that song often.
Thanks for your article.
Humorist David Sedaris is another compulsive trash collector. In fact, he has picked up so much trash in West Sussex England that the local authorities named a garbage truck after him (Pig Pen Sedaris).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5A2yC0-xPvo&ab_channel=LateNightwithSethMeyers
David, I’m glad you’ve recognized that what you and your son are doing is nothing short of community volunteerism, and that you’re being richly rewarded for sharing that experience while not “working for the man”.
I get the same enjoyment from Meals On Wheels. The smiles and thanks from the clients are nice, but spending the morning in the car with my wife is the greater reward. And now I’m being temporarily driven on my route by my nephew from China, who is learning to drive while practicing his English. It’s priceless time for both of us, and since I’ve never had kids it’s my first experience in impacting the life of a teenager. So I’m “giving back” in multiple ways. And it feels really good.
Sounds to me like you’re a pretty good dad now. I can’t think of a better use of your time than to hang out with your son, doing something he enjoys!
Such a beautiful expression of sentiment, David, for the gift your son has given you and the ones you are now giving him.
Some of my early memories involve trash. They include the neighborhood pre-K kids vying for the chance to climb up into and ride half way down the block with the trash collectors in the open cab of their big truck — how cool was that and where was OSHA?! Likewise they include childhood duties to empty the trash (and, in the days before plastic bags, to line the garbage can each week with newspapers).
Perhaps most formative, I recall the retired couple who lived across the street. On daily walks, slowed by infirmities and stopping to chat with neighbors, they would fill a shopping bag with roadside trash. I remember asking my mother why they needed to pick trash. She said they didn’t; they were likely rich enough to own the entire neighborhood but so humble one would never know. Now I realize they were rich in other ways, keen to be integral to their community and to keep it clean.