My son, my pension
Last Sunday at church I commended one of our oldest members on her very smart suit. 'O! Thank you, my dear! I bought this in America.' I knew she was recently in America. She's 90-something and she tells me she wakes up each morning saying, 'Thank you, God, I'm still alive!' She then went on to tell me how her son who is soon to retire had bought a retirement home in Palm Springs. He had arranged for her to fly first class with a companion to see his new home. She has one grateful son (amongst others) who is mindful of the sacrifices she made while he was younger. A successful businessman now, he has seen fit to make sure her mother travelled in the utmost comfort to visit him. She then commented on how my own son was growing. (She first saw him at two weeks old.) 'Look after him. He's your pension,' she said. The truth is I grew up in a family and generation where people had large families because 'our children are our pension'. My parents u