“We must all either wear out or rust out, every one of us. My choice is to wear out.” — Theodore Roosevelt
Teddy Roosevelt (TR) was an energetic—some would say, manic—leader. As Police Commissioner, he fought to rid New York City of corruption. He led the Rough Riders in the charge up San Juan Hill. He was the first activist President in U.S. history and enlarged the presidency beyond the concept of the founders of the Republic: he busted trusts, built the Panama Canal, negotiated the end of the Russo-Japanese war (for which he won the Nobel Peace Prize), and championed the progressive movement in American politics. He drew energy from the political process: on each New Year’s Day, he opened the White House to thousands of visitors and personally greeted each one at the door with a handshake and a hearty “Dee-lighted!” He served two terms as President. After failing in his campaign for a third term in 1912, he embarked on an exploration of the River of Doubt in South America—a trip that nearly killed him. ((I highly recommend Candice Millard’s book on this journey, The River of Doubt: Theodore Roosevelt’s Darkest Journey.)) Yet he recovered and went on for seven more years as a writer of articles, books (some 18 of them), and as advocate of the “strenuous life.” Thus it is no surprise that TR would “choose to wear out” in the final chapter of his life.
TR’s example raises the question, what does one do after a career of work? This is relevant here in Charlottesville: last spring, the University of Virginia announced an early-retirement program that has enticed wonderful staff colleagues (such as Kitty Smiley, Barbara Richards, and Lee Pierce) to retire. (To give you a sense of the wonderful citizenship such colleagues gave, see this Forbes blog post by Darden colleague Kim Whitler.) Sooner or later, most people feel ready for a change, love of friends and community notwithstanding. They grow out of a job or the job grows out of them. You have to listen to the voice that tells you that it’s time to move along. The first thing one must do after a career of work is to simply move along.
To move along is to let go of the past, to embrace the present, and to look forward. This doesn’t mean giving up your values or love for family, friends, or work community. But moving along does mean opening up new possibilities. A challenge faced by many professionals upon retirement is the utter loss of identity associated with the work they were doing (see this). Failure to replace the old identity with something new contributes to depression, illness, and decline. Thus, A.G. Lafley, the former and current CEO of Procter and Gamble, has said that when a CEO leaves, he or she should “move out, move away, and move on.” ((This is advice that he did not exactly follow. He offered these words upon his first retirement as Chairman and CEO of P&G in 2010. Then the board re-hired him as CEO in 2013 to turn the company around. He will transition to Executive Chairman of P&G in November.))
Another thing one does after a career of work is to sustain what is important. Former U.S. Presidents offer good examples: Carter, Clinton, and Bush (43) have become advocates for social causes. The book, Finishing Well, by Bob Buford reports numerous interviews of successful executives that reaffirm the importance of priorities and values in the final chapters of one’s life. ((Many thanks to Scott Beardsley for recommending this book.))
Last weekend, Garrison Keillor’s Prairie Home Companion, came to town for a performance. Keillor, 72, has announced his retirement as of next July and is doing an enormous farewell tour. He was on stage for three hours, and as far as one could tell, used no notes, scripts, or sheet music—his genius of warmth, wit, and criticism is authentic and spontaneous. He qualifies as a modern-day Mark Twain. After the show, several members of the audience commented on a feeling of sadness, that we would lose such a creative spirit. Yet it seems unlikely that a writer whose lifetime was devoted to communication will suddenly go silent. He may give up the grind of a weekly show, but we are likely to hear more from him. One sustains what is important.
Third, one continues to invest in learning. Stasis, intellectually, is associated with decline. The universe of knowledge continues to expand. Grow with it. I’ll have more to say about this in my next post.
Fourth, one stops calling it “retirement,” a word that suggests leisure. Most retirees tell me that they are busier now than they were when working full time. Given the devastation of the Global Financial Crisis and Great Recession, many “retirees” must continue to work part-time to supplement their savings (see this). Others are called upon for advice and counsel, drawing on their years of experience. Leonard Sandridge, former EVP and Chief Operating Officer of UVA, contributes a great deal of his time on a pro bono basis to various organizations. Leisure does not describe most of the retirees I know, at least those in good health.
A case in point about what to call it is my own transition from the Dean’s Office at Darden. This is the result of a long-planned process (see this). All spring, students kindly wished me well upon my “retirement.” I explained that I wasn’t really quitting work and that I would return to the faculty to teach and write. So a student corrected himself and said I was “recycling.” But another student said, “That’s gross! You make the Dean seem like a used can or plastic bottle. Let’s just say he’s being repurposed.” A third student said, “He’s being reinvented.” A fourth: “renewed.” A fifth, “No. Reimagined.” The farther this went, the more that the students’ words lifted my outlook: more active, purposeful, newer, and creative. Words matter. The core issue about life after work is that whatever follows “re-“ entails some kind of vision about what is next. What’s your vision?
Friends who have expressed fears about life after work either have no vision about what is next or don’t like the vision they do have: leisure, boredom, slow physical decline, etc. That’s where Teddy Roosevelt’s saying becomes relevant: TR’s key words are, “my choice.” You have considerable choice in the matter of life after work. Though issues such as health and investment returns loom larger, a decision to remain active, to sustain what is important, and to move along are qualities that distinguish people who successfully create a new life after work.