GOOD MORNING, Retirees, spouses of Retirees, and children of Retirees, who will soon start getting a lot more phone calls in the middle of weekdays.
I can see from the looks on some of your faces you’ve been waiting a long time for this moment. I can see that, like a child on a long car ride, you’ve spent years asking yourself, your spouse, and your accountant, “Are we there yet? How about now…are we there yet?”
A few others look less certain. You’ve been on the road to retirement just as long but rather than feeling a sense of arrival, it’s more like all your tires blew out and you’re trying your best to make it seem like the shoulder of the expressway is where you planned to stop all along.
And then there’s a very small percentage of you—I don’t know, let’s call it 1 percent—who entered retirement territory a while ago but decided it’d be more fun to just keep driving. And your friends and family were like, “What are you doing?” And you were like, “I just want to drive a little more.” And they were like, “But we really don’t get much time with you.” And you secretly thought, That’s why I like driving so much!
Maybe around this point you’re wondering what qualifies me to address you at such a momentous occasion, or why the Board of Retirees has bestowed upon me the honorary title Doctor of Retirement.
One reason is that I’ve spent a significant portion of my career as a freelancer, which at times is like being semi-retired and at other times like being fully retired. I’ve traveled far past the kid who, in the few months after a layoff, refers to himself as “funemployed” and into a category some call “retirement in installments.”
Another reason I’ve been asked to speak to you today is because I’m one of the few people interested in speaking to retirees about something other than what they’re going to do with their savings. I’m not really interested in money. If I were, I wouldn’t have become a writer. And amid all the predators out there trying to sell you annuities, or digital coins, or supplements, or aphrodisiacs, that should seem refreshing.
Instead, I want to discuss a more important asset: your time.
And to do that I’d like to mention my father, who, after a brief retirement in midlife, started a new career at age 56 and continues to work now, at age 78. He works in part because of the installment of retirement he took from age 52 to 56 but also because his phone rings. And he likes it when his phone rings. Sure, every time it does, he rolls his eyes and mutters, “I really don’t want to deal with this right now.” But that’s a show he puts on to send a message. He’s saying, See? I’m still in demand. People need me.
Vacations are fun. Hobbies are fun. And beach homes are fun until rising ocean levels consume them. But there’s really nothing better than feeling needed.
So go forth. Have fun. Take a victory lap. Take two—cardio is important at your age. Buy that unnecessarily expensive guitar or fishing rod or whatever. And when all that gets boring, which it will, ask yourself, “In what ways do I want to be needed?”
Yes, being needed comes with headaches—in fact, many of the same headaches you’re retiring to get away from. There will be times when you mutter, “I really don’t want to deal with this right now.” But it also pays a dividend that has far more value than any annuity, digital coin, supplement, or aphrodisiac can offer. It provides connection to others, which, for a variety of reasons, is becoming one of the most challenging things to achieve.
Thank you for your time today, Retirement Class of 2024. Before I go, I’ll leave you with one last request: Pay attention. More than four million people will retire every year for the next three years. And if those eager to displace workers with AI have their way, even more people will be joining your Pickleball league. So pay attention, record this transition. In a few years, it might help you mentor another retiree, who most certainly will need you.
