It’s August, as many would call the “8th inning of summer” or the “Sunday of the week”. Nonetheless, days are slowly getting shorter and kids are going back to school. Another season is gradually coming to an end as summer always goes by way too fast.
I love summer in all it’s hot, humid glory. Some of my best memories from growing up come from those long summer days of the past. And being married to a teacher, I get a summer break every year, which means I get some vacation time too!
Many days of my summers past were spent at Atlantic Beach with my family. I could probably drive Highway 70 from Clayton to Fort Macon, blindfolded, or at least tell you the best places to eat along the way. Spending warm nights on Sportsmen’s Pier, catching croaker and spot, later to be lightly-fried by my grandma the next day for lunch are some of my fondest memories. Night fishing was my favorite because of the warm salt air, the old wood creaking with the swell, and frequently checking everyone’s bucket to see what they caught. And if the weather was bad, or we were sick of the sun, we would spend time at the skate ranch called Sportsworld, in Morehead City. Oh the fun of going to The Golfin’ Dolphin in Cape Carteret, a driving range with a bus and airplane as targets and a pretty awesome batting cage too.
I always counted down to summer and felt the anticipation of being at the beach. The town of Morehead City and Atlantic Beach have changed. The pier is gone and so is Sportsworld. All claimed by retail chains and beach-front houses on stilts. But one thing hasn’t changed, the feeling of being there. The excitement and anticipation of going. I still fish, play golf and love baseball thanks to those warm summer memories.
These days I get the rewarding gift of preparing and guiding clients to their next season, their summer; retirement. Much like summer vacation as a kid, retirement seems so far away, it’ll never get here. But, it will, and you need to start packing now. I have seen many clients relish their first few weeks of retirement much like we did the first time we rolled down the window to smell the salty sea air. Finally, we’ve arrived. It’s the journey and not the destination, the goals, the time well-spent with loved ones along the way, that matter most. My goal is to ensure when you set out on the retirement highway that your tank is full, your bags are well-packed, and the stove is off. Are you ready to start packing?