If $200,000 were delivered to your home address by FedEx as part of a verified giveaway, how would you responsibly use the funds? Please be honest. For example: Transportation (car) Bills & obligations Business or entrepreneurship Housing Health & medical needs Food & daily living Family support Investments If you prefer to share privately, feel free to DM me.

... I had not spent a single minute preparing to keep going on different terms. While researching for the Sunday supplement yesterday I came across a presentation in a YouTube video that sums up what is the reality for so many people in later life. The video was entitled "The ONE Secret That Made Me A Millionaire AFTER 65" which might have had me clicking away any other day but this time the image of the presenter had me open it and watch all the way through. There was no pitch for a previously only known by a select few inner circle secret. Instead there was a down-to-earth statement of fact for a lot of seniors today. This retiree has lots of videos on YouTube and he may well promote something somewhere amongst them but this one provides a lot of lessons for those in the second half of life and more importantly for those only just approaching it so they can choose a different plan. Here's the link to it; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQubzT1BZR4 I'm interested to learn what all of you think of the message here. Leave me your comments, please.

Let's all welcome our first new member for April, Mike Sears, who just joined us. Great to have you here Mike.

This morning I came across a piece that describes what life is like for a lot of seniors. I though it worth adding here. The Golden Past The barista wrote "Mark" on my cup every morning for two years. When I finally corrected her, she stopped coming to work. I'm not Mark. My name is David. But every single morning at 6:45 AM, the barista at the Starbucks on Fifth Street would write "Mark" on my cup. Medium dark roast. Black. No sugar. "Here you go, Mark," she'd say, sliding the cup across the counter. The first time it happened, I almost corrected her. But the line behind me was long, and she was already helping the next person. I figured she'd realize eventually. She didn't. Week after week. Month after month. "Morning, Mark." "There you go, Mark." "See you tomorrow, Mark." I stopped trying to correct her. It became a routine. My name was David everywhere else. But at 6:45 AM at the Starbucks on Fifth Street, I was Mark. I didn't mind. She was nice. Always smiling. Always fast. Her name tag said "Claire." She looked about sixty. Gray hair pulled back. Reading glasses on a chain around her neck. She moved slower than the younger baristas, but she never messed up an order. And she remembered everyone. Not just their drinks. Their lives. "How'd your daughter's recital go?" "Did your mom's surgery go okay?" "You get that promotion?" She asked me about Mark's life. I never corrected her. Sometimes I even played along. "How's work, Mark?" "Busy," I'd say. "You staying warm out there?" "Trying to." It felt harmless. This went on for two years. Then one Monday morning, Claire wasn't there. A younger guy was at the register instead. "Medium dark roast, black," I said. "Name?" "Mark." He wrote it on the cup without looking up. It felt wrong. Tuesday, Claire wasn't there either. Wednesday, same thing. By Thursday, I asked. "Where's Claire?" The barista shrugged. "She stopped showing up. Management's trying to get in touch with her." "Is she okay?" "No idea, man. You want whipped cream on that?"

Hi all, Let's give a warm welcome to new members Tania Shuey, Don Hayes and Sarah Johnson who have joined us. I look forward to reading your posts and comments.