FIRST WAS THE VOICE of my father’s friend. Then a policeman came on the line. While riding his bicycle, my 75-year-old father had been struck and killed by a speeding driver.
That was 2009. There were no goodbyes. Instead, seared into my memory are the photograph I was shown at the hospital, so I could identify my father’s body, and the details in his final medical report, which I never should have read.
My death will be far different.

How much of our success is due to luck?
As HumbleDollar’s U.S. readers have occasionally noted, we’ve all been lucky in one crucial way: We live in 2024 in what’s arguably the most economically successful nation ever. That’s meant large swaths of the population have enjoyed financial success, even if they weren’t the best students, or the hardest workers, or the most talented employees.
But our luck doesn’t end there. Before we persuade ourselves that our success was solely due to our own talents and efforts,

WHEN I REACHED AGE 70, I felt a sense of accomplishment, a bit of weird pride. At 75, I had a similar feeling. But when I turned 80 last year, things felt different. It was like I was an overachiever. Suddenly, the future wasn’t as long.

For many years, I’d searched for a high school friend who’d been my navigator at sports car rallies, but with no luck. Then, recently, I stumbled across his obituary.

I am a Baptist pastor.  Significant moment #1.  One day I was in a leadership meeting and a fellow pastor commented that he had just met with his financial advisor and was told he would have to work to age 81 to retire.  I didn’t laugh.  I was his age and had just lost 40% of my retirement from the economic downturn that began in October, 2007.  After that meeting I did some serious soul searching and decided I would become a student of understanding “money”

TODAY’S FINANCIAL lesson: We can manage risk—but terrible stuff can still happen. This thought, of course, was prompted by my recent cancer diagnosis. But the notion is also all too relevant to money management.
But let’s start with health matters. In 1995, I began training for my first marathon, which I ran in May 1996 in Pittsburgh and finished in just under three hours. Ever since, I’ve been a bit of an exercise nut.

ON SUNDAY MORNING, May 19, I was enjoying croissants and coffee with Elaine at the kitchen table, while watching the neighborhood sparrows, finches, cardinals and squirrels have their way with the bird feeder. All was right in our little world, except I was a little wobbly when walking—the result, I suspected, of balance issues caused by an ear infection.
It was going to be a busy week, and I figured that it would be smart to get some antibiotics inside me,

“YOU’LL STILL HAVE a retirement. It just won’t be the one you planned on.”
I’ve had to share this sobering assessment with many patients who were hoping to be rewarded for a lifetime of hard work and responsible saving, only to have those hopes dashed by an unforeseen health crisis. The culprit may be an external event like a disabling car accident or crippling fall, or an internal one like stage-four cancer or early onset dementia.

THERE SEEM TO BE four subjects that folks are reluctant to discuss with acquaintances, friends, intimates and often themselves: money, sex, religion and death. A few months ago, I broached the subject of money, to wit, my investment history—territory well-trod by this readership.

I will now turn to the literal and figurative last item in the above lineup of forbidden subjects: death. As a physician, I have some knowledge about the death of others.

“I CAN’T GET DIVORCED.”
“But Randy, I thought you guys were moving toward one.”
“I mean, I can’t afford to. I just went to see my accountant and a lawyer.”
“And?”
“Remember, California is a community property state. Even though I made almost all our money, Sarah’s entitled to half of it. I know she was dedicated to raising Harris all those years, but wow, Steve, I’m cooked.”
“But you were such a sought-after internist.

IN 1954, THE SPANIELS sang, “Goodnight, sweetheart, well, it’s time to go.”
It may not be time for me to go, but it is time to hand over the keys to our rental properties to my wife, Alberta. Since 1983, I’ve had primary oversight over our family’s residential real estate. At age 79, I’m dogged by heart disease and cancer, and weary of scrimmaging with delinquent renters and dishonorable service people. After assisting me and grooming for the role,

AS I WATCH MY daughter gleefully play with her toes and stare in wonder as she turns the pages of a new book, I’ve never felt more fulfilled. The day she entered the world, I knew I’d finally found my true purpose.
I’ve always believed that money buys us choices, and I wanted a lot of choices and flexibility once I became a mom. My daughter, who is my firstborn, arrived eight months ago,

THE SECOND HALF of life isn’t just a continuation of the first. Rather, it’s an opportunity for transformation, new adventures and deepening wisdom. As we navigate these years, understanding the five key stages of this journey can help us live more joyfully and meaningfully. What five stages? Here’s a look at each:
Phase 1: Pre-Rapture. This stage, typically between ages 45 and 60, is marked by a feeling of newfound freedom and independence.

TODAY IS THE 50th anniversary of the most important day of my life. On Feb. 16, 1974, I met my wife. Choosing a life partner is arguably the most crucial decision we make. No other choice likely matters as much, including education, career, finances, where we live or even having children.
We’ve all heard the statistic that half of marriages end in divorce. In addition, marriage rates are declining, marriages are happening at later ages,

IN SPRING 1984, WHEN I was age 32, we purchased a little ranch house in need of tender loving care. That’s why I found myself in a musty crawlspace, removing clutter and installing vapor barriers.
I heard a booming voice from above. It wasn’t God telling me I should run for president. Instead, it was my new neighbor Ken. I came to the surface, dusted myself off and went inside the house.
Standing there was a 47-year-old,

THE HOLIDAYS ARE HERE. For me, the Christmas season brings back memories—along with anxiety and stress.

Let’s review the stress first. Where are we going to have Christmas dinner and who will come? Getting everyone together is virtually impossible.

Next come the decorations. It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t stacked this way and that in a storage locker. When we moved to a condo, we converted to an artificial tree. It looks real from two feet away,