Written by journalist: Michelle Renner.
As told by: Harold C. Benson.
Published by: Fact After Fact Magazine.

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The Dream I Bought with Every Penny.

I always imagined retirement would be my long, golden afternoon. After years of working the same accounting job at a small logistics firm in Boise, Idaho, I had the picture clear in my mind: porch swings, summer cruises, maybe a cabin up in Sandpoint to watch the water glisten in the late sun. I wasn’t extravagant, but I knew what peace looked like. And for most of my adult life, I thought I was walking straight toward it.

I played by the book. I didn’t have expensive hobbies or wild financial habits. I raised three kids, paid off the mortgage in my mid-50s, and stacked up my retirement accounts with every ounce of discipline I could muster. I believed—naively, maybe—that responsibility would reward me.

It wasn’t just hope. It was faith. Faith in the system. Faith in the math. Faith in the stock market, too. Everyone said it was where your money would grow, like corn in July. So I did what so many Baby Boomers did: I moved most of my retirement savings into “high-performing” mutual funds, tech-heavy portfolios, and dividend stocks.

I remember the day I pulled most of my savings from the safety of my conservative bonds and dropped them into the S&P 500. It was late 2019. My advisor said, “It’s a sure thing, Harold. The market’s on fire.”

And so, I listened. I wanted a better future. I wanted to leave something for the grandkids. And deep down, I wanted the reward for being the man who never asked for much but always did the right thing.

What I didn’t know—what none of us could’ve known—was that the fire would spread, fast and unforgiving. The next chapter of my life wasn’t the golden afternoon I imagined. It was smoke, ruin, and a job application I never thought I’d fill out at 70 years old.

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Where It All Went Wrong: The Crash That Ate My Life.

March 2020. That month is tattooed into my memory like a scar you keep scratching. The markets didn’t just dip—they plunged. The COVID-19 pandemic shredded the global economy, and my “sure thing” portfolio hemorrhaged value like a sinking ship takes on water.

I watched it happen in real time. Every evening, I’d sit in my study, eyes glued to CNBC, my heart doing jumping jacks as the red numbers kept climbing in the wrong direction. I refreshed my account compulsively. I lost $10,000 in a week. Then $40,000. Then nearly $120,000 in a single month.

I tried to stay calm. “Ride it out,” they said. “Markets recover.” But the fear settled in my bones. I saw friends dip into their 401(k)s to keep their businesses afloat. Others, less lucky, had to sell their homes. I wasn’t in crisis—yet. But I felt the tremors.

What gutted me most wasn’t just the loss. It was the feeling of betrayal. I had trusted the market. I had believed that discipline and patience were enough. But I hadn’t understood the risks. I hadn’t seen the fragility of the system.

By the time 2021 arrived and the markets began clawing back, it was too late. I was 67. The rebound helped, sure, but I was still down 45% overall. And here’s the cruel math of it: When you’re retired, you can’t afford to wait 10 years for things to recover. Your window narrows. Your runway shortens. Time becomes the costliest commodity of all.

I tried to make it work. We downsized to a two-bedroom condo. I cut back on everything—the travel, the little luxuries, even the visits to see my grandchildren. My wife, Linda, began couponing again like we were back in our 30s.

But the numbers wouldn’t balance. Inflation hit us hard. Gas prices climbed. Groceries cost 40% more. Medical bills piled up. We dipped into what was left of the savings more than once just to make it through a few lean months.

And then one morning in early 2023, I woke up and told Linda: “I think I have to go back to work.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she nodded. We both knew it. My pride took a hit that morning. At 70, I applied to be a greeter at a home improvement store. It wasn’t beneath me, but it was humbling.

I work five days a week now. Standing for long shifts isn’t easy on my knees. But I smile, say hello, help folks with carts, and pretend it’s just something I enjoy doing in retirement. Some days I even believe it.

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How I Overcame and What I Learned.

If you’re still reading this, let me say thank you. It means something to be heard.

The road back from that pit wasn’t paved with miracle solutions. It was slow, sobering, and filled with lessons I wish I had known before.

First, I learned that diversification isn’t just a buzzword. It’s survival. I had put too much faith in one type of investment. I didn’t balance it with real assets, cash reserves, or secure options.

Second, I realized that financial literacy isn’t a one-time class. It’s a lifelong practice. The rules change, the world evolves, and if you’re not adapting, you’re falling behind. I had let my financial advisor do all the thinking. That was my mistake.

But I didn’t let that mistake define the rest of my story. I took courses online. I joined financial resilience groups for seniors. I talked to younger folks at the store, sharing what I went through, hoping they wouldn’t repeat my path.

And when I started rebuilding—even if just emotionally—I came across a series of books that became my lighthouse in that storm:

1. “Navigating the New Money Landscape: A Practical Guide to Protecting Your Finances in Uncertain Times” — This gave me the tools to understand what’s changed in today’s financial climate.
2. “The Smart Consumer’s Handbook: Avoiding Scams, Saving Money, and Making Savvy Choices in the Digital Age” — It opened my eyes to how easily we can be misled or manipulated in the modern economy.
3. “Building Financial Resilience: Your Step-by-Step Guide to Security and Peace of Mind” — A game changer. Taught me how to rebuild without shame.
4. “Decoding the Economy: Understanding the Forces That Impact Your Wallet and How to Respond” — I wish I had read this in 2018.
5. “Digital Security and Your Money: Protecting Your Assets and Identity in an Online World” — Vital. With fraud rising, this one should be required reading.

I may still be working. But I’m not hopeless anymore. I found a new rhythm. I learned to live with less and be proud of more. And I tell everyone who’ll listen: It’s not about what you lose. It’s about what you refuse to lose—your dignity, your hope, and your voice.

So here I am, 70 and still on my feet. Not exactly where I thought I’d be. But wiser. And maybe, in a strange way, stronger too.

Story told by: Harold C. Benson.
Written by journalist: Michelle Renner.
Published by: Fact After Fact Magazine.