People keep asking me when I’m going to retire. It’s a good question.
I did a lot of living before Pamela Polston and I started Seven Days in 1995, almost 28 years ago. But I’ve spent nearly every waking hour since working on this business: at night, on weekends, during vacations. When I wasn’t shoulder to boulder busting a gut for it, I was thinking about the paper, solving problems too numerous to count. The worst are totally unexpected: the pandemic, lawsuits, personnel issues. Nothing fills me with dread like an email from a valued employee, asking: “Do you have a minute to chat?”
No doubt Seven Days suffers from some version of “founder’s syndrome,” but so far it hasn’t been fatal. I’ve led the paper through the startup and growth periods into full maturity and succession planning.
It made sense that Pamela, who is my senior, would leave before me. In August 2021, she stepped down as culture editor, and we promoted two longtime staffers to replace her. Employing her creative genius, Pamela designed her own “retirement.” Anticipating that a total disconnection from the paper would not suit her, she wisely decided to hang on to a piece of her erstwhile giant job. She now manages the visual arts content, which combines the humbling work of compiling gallery listings with the privilege of going to see and write about the exhibitions she loves.
She still fills a lot of pages every week, but compared to what she once did, it’s a breeze — a shrunken version of the old job. More importantly, she likes it. When I emailed her recently trying to coax her to write something additional, she responded, “I’m in the happy position of being able to say no.”
It’s not easy to figure out when to leave a job that has provided satisfaction, camaraderie and an identity. Unlike the French, who are up in arms because their president just increased the country’s retirement age from 62 to 64, Americans traditionally work longer than that. Some people can’t afford to retire, of course. But among those who can, there’s no guarantee that the transition from employment will be one of enjoyment.
Fast approaching my 63rd birthday, I’m starting to pay attention to the ways people retire — wondering if, how and when I’ll ever do it. While Pamela’s slow-motion exit strategy is a model of grace and self-awareness, I see other approaches, too. One friend, an anesthesiologist, has known for years the exact date of her retirement; the hospital that employs her has already hired her replacement, and she’s got multiple trips planned.
Another friend left a fast-paced, demanding job in the public sector. He didn’t think his career was over but, once out of the office, got busy with house projects and caring for elderly parents. Before he knew it, a few years had passed without a paycheck, and he was surprisingly OK with it; the less stressful lifestyle suits him.
Yet another friend carefully planned his retirement and has everything a pensioner could hope for, including an all-consuming hobby and a spouse who shares it. But he misses the feeling of contributing to the world in a meaningful way.
Retirement experts say a sense of purpose is essential to post-work well-being. To that end, contributors to this week’s Money & Retirement Issue found elder Vermonters sharing their talents, as pianist Dan Alan Levine does in local nursing homes, and late-stage climate activists who have joined Bill McKibben’s Third Act group.
On the flip side, Steve Goldstein, happily “retired” from the Philadelphia Inquirer and now writing for Seven Days, explored an option that might hasten the planet’s demise: buying an RV to “tour the U.S. at ‘see level.'”
Sorry to say, but that sounds pretty good, too.
Maybe someday. Until then, I gotta get back to work.
This article appears in The Money & Retirement Issue 2023.
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