Retirement – Finding the right time

How do you know when to give up? It’s a question that haunts the world of retirees. The answers are lopsided by media gurus chanting ‘never say never’. Don’t stop till you drop.

I’ve got a couple of public roles I’ve been doing forever that become more stressful as the years roll by. Dealing with arguments and silly details I would have shrugged off 10 years ago now keep me awake.
The people I find most inspiring are those who run marathons, mend tractors, even race motorbikes well into their 90s. The saddest people are those who insist on hogging the space up front despite failing performance. I used to organise an event in Christchurch for the descendants of settlers who arrived on the First Four Ships. The oldest surviving ones insisted on doing all the talking, less and less coherently. No one dared to suggest stepping back.

Advice on how to navigate this space between giving up and keeping on increases by the day. The retirement village industry provides a barrage of images that persuade you to sell up and move into a life that you deserve, free of anything you don’t want to do anymore. No more lawns or blocked spouting. No hefty responsibilities – apart from the cost.

Tikanga Māori treat retired people differently. They expect them to stay on as leaders, mediators and role models. The idea of giving up doesn’t come into it. Responsibilities increase, if anything. And if the speeches go on a little longer and aren’t as clear as they used to be, no one worries. Because this is a respected elder doing the talking, carrying wisdom and memories that younger ones can’t begin to match.

I live in a different world of performance appraisals that favour the slick and the quick, and forgiveness for forgetting comes slowly. Cognitive decline is the buzz word that unnerves us, especially if you’ve got a driving licence test looming. Spotting early signs of dementia becomes a guessing game played quietly on each other, without comment. It’s popular enough to warrant a TV show on its own.
In fact, it did. A reality series called “The restaurant that makes mistakes”, fronted by chef Ben Bayly and inspired by a Japanese series, employs folk living with dementia as the waiters. People who had given up such roles now found a new lease on life. The programme did more to challenge stereotypes about aging and dementia than anything I’ve seen before.

And it served me as a cautionary tale for giving up the roles I find stressful.

But, just in case I go on too long beyond my use-by-date, I rely on a trusted friend to monitor my performance; and I need to work on finding new people to mentor who can take over and do what I do better. There are plenty of them waiting to be asked.