When Is It Time to Retire? Readers (and I) Want to Know

There is, of course, no single, correct answer, especially when the idea of retirement itself has been turned on its head. Only a generation or two ago, most Americans entered later life in much the same way. You collected a gold watch between ages 62 and 65. You cashed your monthly pension checks (remember pensions?), spent a dozen years or so at play, and then waited for your final boarding pass.

Today, many people “retire”—and immediately take a part-time job, or throw themselves into volunteer work. Others embrace a new career entirely. Ask a person today in their mid-60s and older if they’re retired and, more often than not, the answer is: “Sort of.” That’s what I did when I “retired” from my full-time job at The Wall Street Journal. I immediately started writing this column, which meant I was, at best, sort of retired.

So…perhaps a better question is: How do you know when it’s time to walk away from a first or primary career? Here, for many, the answer is simple: You retire when work has become a bore or a bother. Or when your nest egg, finally, is the right size. Or when grandchildren and travel beckon. Or when, in the words of the late

Joseph Campbell,

you find “your bliss.” Or when your body tells you it’s time.

For others, though, the finish line isn’t as clear. As with any major change in life, the prospect of retiring can be (pick a word) unsettling, daunting, stressful. In particular, those whose identity—whose self-worth—is wrapped up in their work aren’t always able, or willing, to develop a vision for later life. In which case, inertia sets in. Which, in turn, can keep people even from asking themselves the question about whether it’s time. Or as one retiree told me:

“We’re all used to planning for growth, but most of us are less enthusiastic about planning for decline. So you put it off, and put it off.”

So…for anyone who’s unsure about when to retire, or if you’re flinching at the idea of walking away from the office, try this: Think about retirement as a privilege. One that we shouldn’t waste.

That’s the mind-set I’ve adopted after almost 20 years of reporting and writing about retirement for the Journal. In that time, I have been astonished—there’s really no other word for it—at the opportunities that retirement affords and how people take advantage of those opportunities.

That’s a Wrap, Folks

Average retirement age for men and women in the U.S.

In just these pages, we have written about retirees who became physician assistants and others who became ministers, priests or rabbis. We have talked with older adults who have adopted children overseas and others who have written first novels. Still others have taken motorcycle tours of China or joined local search-and-rescue teams. Some bought ranches out West and raised emus, while others purchased vineyards in Virginia and raised grapes. They start businesses or they start teaching or they start competing in triathlons.

In short, retirement offers the opportunity to explore—not just the world, but your own interests, hobbies, passions.

And don’t misunderstand: A “good” retirement doesn’t always involve changing careers or saving the planet. As I’ve noted in this space, retirement, at its best, can give you the time to live ordinary life well: to read a book on a park bench; to volunteer at a local church; to catch a movie on a Thursday afternoon; to take a grandchild to the library; to go for a late-morning walk. In short, to pursue a daily routine that’s rich with the commonplace.

Again, if you think of retirement as a privilege—and if you recognize, to be blunt, that the time to seize that privilege is relatively brief—a decision about if and/or when to retire might come more easily.

And now…it’s my turn to take advantage of this privilege.

This is my final column for the Journal. I’m hanging up my laptop, as it were, to start a new job: caring full time for my wife. I certainly never imagined this (and neither did my wife). But as privileges go, I can’t think of one I’d rather have.

The change is bittersweet. I love journalism; I love the written word. I also have loved, for 40 years, working with my colleagues at the Journal, the most talented, supportive and honorable friends imaginable. (As an aside, my byline appears at the top of these columns. What you don’t see are the names of the Journal’s editors and their unsung efforts to shape and polish my articles and all the articles in these pages. They are my heroes.)

Most important, I thank the readers of this column. I have heard from thousands of people, some of whom questioned whether my skills could be better employed elsewhere (say, selling shoes), but most of whom were generous to a fault with their comments, insights and suggestions. I apologize to the many (many) readers whose questions I was unable to answer. I hope the columns themselves provided some useful maps to navigate retirement’s waters.

I’m anxious to see what the coming years hold for my wife and me. Just having this time together, however short or long, is a privilege. And I don’t plan to waste it.

Mr. Ruffenach is a former reporter and editor for The Wall Street Journal. Send comments to askencore@wsj.com.