AARP, AARP !!!

No, it’s not the sound of your neighbor’s barking dog. It’s the American Association for Retired Persons.

I’ve been receiving invitations to join AARP since I was 48. Last year at 51 I finally took the plunge, wrote my check for $12.50, sent it off and joined. In exchange for my $12.50, I now have the cutest little red and white AARP card to carry around in my wallet and occasionally flash to save money. I also own a small collection of AARP magazines that I keep in a small wicker basket next to my rocking chair in my bedroom (and yes, I know that makes me sound incredibly ancient). I worry if it’s a sign of old age that I actually intently read these magazines cover to cover because I find the articles relevant and genuinely entertaining!?!?!?

The downside of AARP is that it generates a fair amount of, what is to me, junk mail. The mail isn’t actually junk. In fact, it’s chockfull of incredibly worthwhile opportunities to save money buying ordinary goods and services that just aren’t terribly meaningful to me (like vacations, good driver insurance, death benefits, etc) because I’m either covered by my work benefits or can’t afford it.

Last week I received a plain white #10 envelope bearing my name and address in the center and “AARP/NYL” in the upper left-hand corner. Thinking it was yet another offer for an AARP Visa card, tornado insurance or a reduced price offer to go to Bermuda or some other thing I didn’t need, couldn’t have or couldn’t afford, I nearly threw it out. It was a close call. Had I not had my hands full and already been on a mission, I would have taken the time to drop it in the round file where all junk mail goes. But I didn’t and, as a result, it was still lounging on the dining room table when I got home from work on Friday night and took the time to open it and realize it wasn’t an advertisement at all! It was a 2-sentence letter.

“We’re trying to determine if you are a relative of John Roy. Please call our office between 8:00 am and 5:00 pm (east coast time) yadda, yadda, yadda”

Yadda, yadda, yadda because I didn’t need to read the rest. I internalized the topic sentence right away and, thinking there’s something wrong, I pick up the phone. Sure, its 4:30 pm west coast time but, you know me, I’m gonna’ try and, seriously, would you expect anything less? I’m surprised though when someone actually just answers the phone. I tell her about the letter, she looks me up, finds me and asks me if I’m a relative. “Yes, I’m his daughter” I say “and, in fact, he’s here in a box about ten feet from me right now” (I’ll never be the one to receive a prize for tact). She asks me if I can confirm his full name and date of birth and of course, I can. She then confirms my current address and tells me she’s sending me a “claim form”. Pause. Unexpected this. Suddenly a million questions churn through my brains. This is exactly when I make the connection between the “NYL” on the envelope the words “New York Life”. I’m stunned into a momentary silence. Reigning in my churning brain I reduce the million questions down to just one and say, “Does this mean there’s a benefit of some sort?” “Yes”. I now can’t hold my tongue and the obvious next question simply falls out of my brain directly onto it and I hear myself say “Do you know how much it’s for?” and she tells me that “can’t be determined until the claim is filed”.

Sure! It will probably amount to $4.17 but I could care less. I’m joyful because I feel like my Dad just reached out and hugged me from the other side. If you read the blog, you’ll know that a few years ago I’d thought he was trying to tell me something, trying to get me to pay attention to something, trying to point me somewhere and I was just too stupid to figure it out. NOW, I feel like his message has finally reached me and I’m inexplicably all warm and fuzzy about it!

Whatever it is, I’ll follow through. Thanks for the hug Dad!

Love you much and miss you more.


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