Marking Time — When Retirement Milestones Become Personal

  There’s something about a birthday that ends in zero that hits differently. And I have one of those this week.

I’ve spent more than half my professional life thinking, writing, and talking about retirement — how people get there, how they prepare (or don’t), and what it all means when work finally loosens its grip.

And yet, when you hit a milestone like this, “theory” gets very personal very fast.

Truthfully, this isn’t what I thought “this” would feel like. Not dread. Not triumph. Just … different. Though lately, I’ve been thinking about it more than I expected.

See, it’s not just another candle (you’d have to forewarn the local fire department). It’s a checkpoint. A round number that invites reflection whether you ask for it or not. Sure, it’s just another year. But it’s a whole other category of living.

That said — and I’m happy to be able to say this — I don’t “feel” my age.[i] Or what I thought it would be like to be this age.

What I am starting to feel — though only recently, and doubtless due to the approaching anniversary of my birth — is an appreciation of how I spend my time. 

No longer bound by office start and stop times, the “rigor” of commutes, the (seemingly) endless pattern of meetings and conference calls — time, and the opportunity to see and do “other” things beckons. 

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You start to notice how you spend time, and who you spend it with. You’re more aware of what drains you — and what gives energy back. You get better (though it’s still a work in progress) at saying “no,” not because you’re tired, but because you’ve learned that every “yes” displaces something else.

There are a fair number of age markers in our business; age 50 for catch-ups, 59 ½ for penalty-free withdrawals,[ii] 62 for early Social Security withdrawals, 65 (as adjusted) for retirement/Social Security, and age 73 or 75 for RMDs (depending on your age). We’ve even recently added some others (ages 60-63) for “super” catchups. And let’s not forget the implicit retirement age “marker” associated with target-date fund selection. 

These markers give us an opportunity — an “excuse,” if you will, to engage with individuals along the way to help them consider different, and perhaps better, ways of financial preparation. Their advantage is you don’t need anything more than a calendar to anticipate and track them. Their limitation is that many arrive too late for truly meaningful course corrections — when time, compounding, and flexibility are already constrained.

If there’s a lesson in those age-based milestones, it’s this: milestones matter, but they don’t have to define you. They’re prompts, not verdicts. Invitations to take stock, adjust course, and — if you’re lucky — keep doing meaningful work with people you respect — and for people that need your support.

Because if you’ve learned nothing else by the time you reach a birthday that ends in zero, remember that the future is never guaranteed — and the time to make change — is finite.

• Nevin E. Adams, JD

 

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[i] Some of you, surely, are thinking to yourself “and you sure don’t act it, either!”

[ii] I’m cognizant of the rule of 55, though I suspect many aren’t.

‘Might’ Makes . . . Right?

  Words are funny things. They can entertain, elucidate, inform — and yes, sometimes mislead.

It is, of course, one of the reasons that I have long sought to see the actual questions asked in surveys that purport to convey opinions, not to mention the actual data/results behind those assertions, which can hide behind other malleable labels like “some,” “many,” or even “most.” They can also be a result of what I’ll term “malleable” opinion/assessment labels, such as “might” or “somewhat” or “it depends.”   

For example, a recent survey claiming that participants[i] were enthusiastic about gaining access to private markets contained the following statement: "Many believe private markets can provide potential growth and diversification in their portfolios…"

However, in this case (looking at the actual findings) “many” appears to be…36%.[ii]

The report continues to explain that “…while others are interested but want more information… here the number actually is half — 50%. Though neither of those numbers appear in the sentence that conveys those sentiments. Mind you, the numbers aren’t tucked away in an obscure footnote (as some do). But the coverage of those findings — certainly those that just scrape the press release — carry a message that, to my eyes, anyway, puts a positive “spin” on the actual conclusion(s).

Now, I’ve commented previously on the likelihood that “regular” participants (much less plan fiduciaries) are really up to speed on what’s involved in these markets.[iii] The survey got into this a bit, finding that a plurality — 43% — self-classified into a category labeled “somewhat[iv] familiar, understand them a little bit.” But then the report lumps that in with the 29% who claimed to be “very familiar, understand them very well” to create an assertion that 72% “are at least somewhat familiar.” Which, of course, is technically speaking an accurate statement…

But then, apparently building on that grouping (those now determined to be at least somewhat familiar), that same report comments that while “Most participants are familiar with private market investments but many still mix up terminology or lack solid understanding.” Which might well mean that while “most” claim to be familiar — and let’s remember how we got to that result — even though they actually…aren’t (remembering how many said they understood these “a little bit”).

The report then focused on what were termed “moderate” investors — which comprised nearly two-thirds (63%) of the sample, and when asked if they believed private markets should be part of a long-term retirement portfolio — more than half (55%) said “possibly” — depending on risk and cost factors. But then that was “transformed” along with another grouping (31% who simply said “yes” to the question) to be characterized as “a combined 86% said they are either “definitely interested” or “maybe interested” — a level of interest the report characterized as “encouraging for plan sponsors who are considering adding private investments.” Once again, the statement on which the conclusion is based is, admittedly, technically accurate.

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In fairness, those “malleable” descriptors provide just enough squishiness to allow pretty much anyone to infer levels of interest and/or acceptance to those who are inclined to see them. And let’s face it, we human beings are inclined to see what we want to see in pretty much any area of life.

Regardless, it should remind us all again of the importance of looking deeper than the summaries and press releases — not to mention the click-baiting headlines and hurriedly crafted news reports from those materials — to understand what the actual data — regardless of source[v] — is actually telling us.

And those looking to forecast future behaviors (or regulatory changes) might want to keep in mind that “might”…might also mean “might not.”

• Nevin E. Adams, JD

 

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[i] I’ll acknowledge right off the bat that this seems to be an engaged group of participants — 26% self-identified as “do-it-myself” investors, and another 72% said they wanted at least some level of involvement in how their retirement plan savings was invested. That could certainly explain some of the results.

[ii] A dictionary definition suggests that “many” is consisting of or amounting to a large but indefinite number.

[iii] See Talking Points: (Just Because) Survey Says?

[iv] Italics mine.

[v] This report happens to originate from a provider with an interest in private market adoption.

Who Wants Financial Wellness?

You might have missed it (I nearly did), but January has been declared “National Financial Wellness Month.”

The designation (apparently, it’s been so designated since 2011 or thereabouts) is meant to create a time where we’re all encouraged to pay closer attention to our financial well-being. Which, considering that we’ve just emerged from a season of what for many is one of “overspending,” January seems either a good time — or perhaps two months too late.

Seriously, while the numbers are modest, surveys (conducted primarily by those promoting or supported by promoters of those services) routinely show that some workers want[i] —  and even expect —  financial wellness type support from their employers. Not surprisingly, there are employers willing to accommodate this assumption, though —  depending on employer size, location, and source —  fewer than half do, with larger employers notably more likely to do so. And that’s with a truly fluid definition of what those services actually entail.

But do these programs actually work? The data —  and measurement —  is murky, to say the least.

The challenge starts with the fluid definition of what constitutes a financial wellness “program,” is further muddied by varying degrees of employer support, and ultimately compounded by (widely) varying means of measuring “success.” 

A recent survey by the Employee Benefit Research Institute (EBRI) found that the top factor in measuring the success of financial wellness initiatives was improved overall worker satisfaction, followed by increased employee productivity —  areas that might well benefit from financial wellness initiatives but are arguably influenced by a wider range of factors. 

Meanwhile, bottom-line measures such as reducing health care claims and costs were NOT commonly cited as top factors in measuring the success of financial wellness initiatives.

Little wonder that any kind of quantifiable ROI remains…elusive[ii].

But another —  and perhaps larger —  challenge remains: utilization. Transamerica recently reported that a consortium of industry experts[iii] only expects utilization by a third of individuals with access to those programs – despite their decades-long existence.  And that’s a future projection, supported by AI chatbots and the like in addition to human support.

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Indeed, despite the headlines proclaiming interest — it doesn’t take much effort to see that the surveys are finding an INCREASE in (modest) interest, rather than a commanding demand.

More’s the pity since there’s any number of signs that suggest American workers really need (if not want) the kind of financial guidance and help that these programs ostensibly could provide —  and not much sign that they’re inclined to seek it outside of the workplace[iv].

So, who wants financial wellness —  well, it’s hard to imagine someone who doesn’t, though they might not recognize it by that label or appreciate what it means.

Here’s hoping that THIS financial wellness month we’re able to help more folks both know about, and take advantage of, the available programs —  that we do a better job of defining what those programs are and can mean — and that the combination leads to more and better financial security for working Americans.

-          Nevin E. Adams, JD

 

[i] According to Bank of America’s 2025 Workplace Benefits Report (PDF), conducted in partnership with Bank of America Institute, 26% of the workforce is seeking help in areas such as emergency savings, paying down debt, and overall financial wellness, compared to 13% in 2023.  

[ii] But for what I still maintain is an interesting exercise, check out Building a Bottom Line on Financial Wellness.

[iii] Full disclosure – I’m among this group.

[iv] Setting aside the obvious concerns of the kind of help they might stumble into on their own.

Putting a Price on Financial Literacy

  A new report claims that Americans lost nearly $1,000 last year due to a lack of financial literacy — and while that was less than the year before, the data seems a little . . . squishy.

The report comes from the National Financial Educators Council,[i] which has been conducting this particular survey for several years now.[ii] They drew their conclusion from a survey of some 1,200 American adults between Dec. 24 and Dec. 28 who responded to the question, 

"During the past year (2025), about how much money do you think you lost because you lacked knowledge about personal finances?"

Now, I’ve previously commented on the inherent unreliability of surveys based on self-reporting of financial matters — and this one, taken in the midst of the holiday season (and the aftermath of Christmas unwrapping) is surely no exception. Moreover, year-over-year comparisons of COMPLETELY different groups of people surely can’t be considered a reliable-trends benchmark (though this wouldn’t be the first survey to attempt that). That these year-over-year comparisons (of highly questionable results) are drawn from completely different groups — and then those “assessments” AVERAGED … well, you begin to appreciate just how “squishy” this conclusion might be.

But then, as if the result wasn’t sufficient to grab your attention, they take that average — and multiply it by the 260 million adult residents (according to a U.S. Census Bureau estimate) to claim that in 2025 more than $246 BILLION in lost revenue. Ah, math…and the “magic” of “compounding” questionable numbers to make them even bigger (and more questionable).  

So, what does this tell us about the cost of financial illiteracy? I’d say — not much.

While I’ve little doubt that a lack of financial acumen costs Americans money, I find little credibility on their self-assessment of that impact,[iii] not to mention what happens to that figure once it’s “averaged” (and then multiplied) — and nothing to suggest that it costs them less now than a year ago, beyond sheer economics. Heck, it probably costs them considerably more than they think.

Once upon a time I, like many of you, advocated for more financial education in schools,[iv] decried the extended emphasis on things like s.ex education and PE with no time or allowance for things like money management and budgeting (which, ironically, was once part of the curriculum of what was actually labeled home “economics”). In recent years, much to my dismay, I stumbled across research[v] that indicated that while financial knowledge can be shared, if there’s no practical application at hand, that knowledge tends to quickly atrophy. And — considering what has happened to my once working knowledge of AP Calculus — well, I find that entirely plausible.

At this point, I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that about 36 states have some kind of financial literacy requirement tied to high school graduation, and 29 of those require a dedicated personal finance course. I know that many of you are both currently and actively involved in programs to help young people achieve a much-needed level of financial acumen, if not literacy. I continue to see encouraging and inspiring LinkedIn posts and commentary about those activities. Good for you.

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That said, the aforementioned research suggests that knowledge without application of that knowledge fades quickly — and that would seem to suggest that our industry needs to quit holding out as a panacea the notion that financial education programs in school will “solve” the 401(k) education problem. 

That doesn’t mean we should abandon those workplace efforts, certainly not in core areas like budgeting, debt management and saving. At a minimum, it might well dust off the cobwebs of their earlier education, if they were lucky enough to receive it.

There’s certainly a price to be paid for that education (or lack thereof), and even though it might come to actual application later than it might, it’s arguably still better late than never.

• Nevin E. Adams, JD

 

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[i] To their credit, the NFEC actually has a definition of financial literacy: “understanding the topic of money.”  But they expand on that to say, “Financial Literacy is ‘Possessing the financial knowledge, behaviors, systems, team, and plan to confidently take effective action that best fulfills an individual’s personal, family, and global community goals.’” I’m not sure how workable that is in a real-life assessment, though they have an extensive website touting education programs and credentials purporting to do just that.

[ii] According to a press release, the NFEC first fielded this survey in 2017 as part of its research to clarify the status of financial literacy in the country. The organization then leverages the results to advocate for greater economic empowerment. In the three previous years' surveys, Americans reported losing $1,819 in 2022, $1,506 in 2023, and $1,015 in 2024 due to a lack of personal finance knowledge.

[iii] As long as we’re relying on self-reporting, I’d be more curious as to the “how” and “why” than the how much, as that might actually provide some insights on areas where financial education might actually help.

[iv] See “Focus” Group.

[v] See The Problem(s) with Financial 'Literacy'.

2025 - The (Retirement) Year in Review - "Revised" - and With a 'Twist'

 I recently did a roundup of some of the most significant retirement-related events of 2025. Then Jack VanDerhei, PhD fed that column through ChatGPT applying the style that famed humorist Dave Barry takes with HIS annual Year-in-Review. The result follows... Enjoy!

The Year in Retirement Plans: 2025

By someone who survived it and would like credit

By almost any measure, 2025 was a remarkable year for retirement plans, largely because it managed to be historically consequential without passing a single massive, system-rewriting law. This is unusual in the same way it is unusual when your roof collapses even though no meteor hit it.

There was no SECURE Act sequel. No Pension Protection Act reboot. Congress flirted with something called the One Big Beautiful Bill, then decided retirement plans should sit this one out, possibly because they were tired. Instead, 2025 delivered something far more subtle and far more exhausting: implementation problems, interpretive confusion, and enough litigation to keep ERISA lawyers hydrated for decades.

Rules were finalized, challenged, revised, challenged again, and then stared at intensely. Courts wrestled with fundamental ERISA questions that everyone thought had already been answered, except apparently not. A new Administration arrived and “recalibrated” several long-held positions, which is Washington code for “pretending we always believed this.” And fiduciaries were reminded, once again, that what really matters is not what happened, but how thoroughly you documented what you meant to happen.

Individually, these developments looked small. Collectively, they turned 2025 into one of the most important retirement-plan years in recent memory, the way a thousand paper cuts can technically count as a major injury.

Let’s relive it. Slowly. Carefully. With coffee.

January

January opened with a regulatory farewell tour from the outgoing Administration. Labor, Treasury, and the IRS issued rules addressing catch-up contributions, auto-enrollment, missing participants, and updates to the Voluntary Fiduciary Correction Program, which is the government’s way of saying, “We noticed you messed up, but we’ll pretend it was an accident.”

Meanwhile, the Supreme Court took up the question of who bears the burden of proof in ERISA fiduciary cases, a topic so exciting it caused several justices to blink slowly. At the same time, the American Airlines ESG case produced the rare legal outcome of “Yes, the process was prudent, but also no, that wasn’t loyal,” leaving observers nodding thoughtfully while quietly wondering if words still had meanings.

February

February brought personnel news, with Daniel Aronowitz nominated to lead EBSA, and legislative déjà vu, as Congress once again introduced a bill to allow 403(b) plans to invest in collective investment trusts. This bill has now been introduced so many times it qualifies for tenure.

Litigation, however, was fresh and energetic. Lawsuits challenged the use of forfeitures to offset employer contributions, including a high-profile case against Charter Communications’ $7 billion plan. A Texas judge upheld the ESG rule, surprising nearly everyone who had read literally anything else. HP won a forfeiture case, which would later become extremely important, like a minor character in a movie who suddenly gets their own sequel.

March

March brought confirmation of Lori Chavez-DeRemer as Secretary of Labor, followed immediately by more lawsuits, because the universe insists on balance.

New healthcare fiduciary claims hit JPMorgan. Johnson & Johnson saw a previously dismissed case resurrected, proving that no lawsuit is ever truly gone. One of the many BlackRock LifePath challenges was dismissed with prejudice, while Clorox discovered that winning once does not guarantee winning again, especially when forfeitures are involved.

April

April was the month litigation stopped being theoretical.

The Supreme Court ruled unanimously in the Cornell University case, clarifying exactly nothing in a way that encouraged everyone to file more lawsuits. Then came a rare ERISA jury trial against Pentegra, resulting in a $39 million verdict and the sudden realization that juries exist.

Meanwhile, fiduciaries scored a win in the first pension risk transfer case, suggesting that at least sometimes, moving liabilities off your balance sheet does not automatically make you a villain.

May

May was dominated by the One Big Beautiful Bill, which turned out to be neither particularly beautiful nor relevant to retirement plans. Still, momentum continued on the 403(b)-CIT front, and the IRS announced a modest increase in HSA limits, which thrilled dozens of people.

Litigation pressed on. Forfeiture cases multiplied, some were dismissed, and one settled quietly, like a family argument everyone agreed not to mention again.

June

June brought a regulatory pivot. The Labor Department reconsidered its ESG rule and rescinded its prior crypto warning, returning to a neutral stance best summarized as, “You’re adults. Please stop asking us.”

Courts, meanwhile, began dismissing forfeiture cases with increasing confidence. Wells Fargo and JPMorgan prevailed, with JPMorgan’s victory coming with prejudice, which in legal terms means “please stop.”

July

July featured new guidance on pooled employer plans, which raised many questions and answered several others incorrectly. More notably, the Labor Department filed an amicus brief supporting fiduciaries in the HP forfeiture appeal, causing observers to double-check the calendar.

The Pentegra case settled for $48.5 million, confirming that jury verdicts are not just theoretical exercises. A Texas court invalidated part of the fiduciary rollover rule, echoing Florida, because nothing says consistency like multiple courts disagreeing in harmony.

August

August delivered an executive order encouraging retirement plans to consider private markets, including alternatives, digital assets, real estate, and lifetime income products. This marked the first time all of these were mentioned together without anyone visibly sweating.

Litigation continued, with Empower sued over alleged misuse of participant data to cross-sell managed accounts, joining TIAA and Morningstar in the rapidly growing genre of “You had the data, but should you have used it?”

September

September brought the confirmation of Daniel Aronowitz as EBSA head, thanks to a procedural maneuver best described as “now everyone is confirmed, please stop emailing us.”

The IRS finalized Roth catch-up rules effective in 2027, which somehow managed to confuse people about a requirement scheduled for 2026. The SEC fined Vanguard and Empower over managed account disclosures, and the American Airlines ESG case concluded with governance changes but no damages, proving that sometimes everyone loses differently.

October

A government shutdown slowed activity, but not enough to prevent the release of Social Security COLA figures, because retirees notice.

Courts dismissed several pension risk transfer cases for lack of harm, while allowing others to proceed based on the possibility that harm might someday exist if the universe cooperated.

November

Post-shutdown, the IRS released 2026 contribution limits and the updated FICA threshold, reminding everyone that math is relentless.

More forfeiture cases were dismissed, some explicitly citing Labor’s HP amicus brief. New cases appeared anyway, because hope springs eternal. Advisors sued the Labor Department. Attorneys sought fees. Everyone was very busy.

December

December ended the year emphatically.

The Labor Department urged the Supreme Court to review major ERISA issues, siding with fiduciaries and explicitly reversing its prior positions, which is rare and also deeply confusing to historians. The Department abandoned its defense of the fiduciary rule while hinting at a replacement, because suspense matters.

Schlichter Bogard rolled out a new wave of lawsuits targeting voluntary benefits, proving there is always another category. A Johnson & Johnson healthcare case was dismissed. The Department requested more time in Honeywell, suggesting another amicus was loading.

Congress passed a bill allowing 403(b) plans to invest in CITs, plus floated auto-IRAs, Roth rollovers, ERISA lawsuit reform, and expanded emergency savings, all of which may or may not happen, but felt important at the time.

What Did We Learn?

The defining feature of 2025 was not transformation, but stress-testing. The system was tested. Employers were tested. Courts were tested. Fiduciaries were tested, mostly on whether they kept enough meeting minutes.

And somehow, the system held. Not gracefully. Not efficiently. But it held.

Going into 2026, there will be more lawsuits, more rules, and more confident statements that turn out to be provisional. But 2025 proved something important: retirement plans continue to function not because they are perfect, but because the people running them are persistent, pragmatic, and very good at reading footnotes.

Preserving the system will require less noise, clearer rules, fair enforcement, and a collective agreement that prudence does not require clairvoyance.

On to 2026. Please stretch first.

- Nevin E. Adams, JD (and ChatGPT)