Retirement

I would like to retire. Yes, I have some things I would like to accomplish in my work, but my most recent sabbatical, devoted to research and writing on a long-postponed project, left me unfit for my old routine. In the past, I came back to the classroom all fired up to try new things and engage with young minds, and this time my mojo is definitely missing. It didn't help matters that we managed to live on half my usual salary for that year, allowing me to resurrect my frugality skills.

The reality is that I can't retire for five or six years, thanks to a series of life choices and circumstances which I either couldn't or wouldn't change. This is a big issue in higher education these days; a session on "Supporting the Culminating Stages of Faculty Careers" at the  annual meeting of the American Council on Education quickly generated two news articles, one in at chronicle.com and another at Inside Higher Ed. What bothers me most about this is knowing that there are so many bright, underemployed young people waiting for the Boomers to leave. I assume that younger workers in other fields are facing the same problem.

Looming over all of this is the increasingly popular myth that Baby Boomers have been "selfish" and created all of the current economic problems, including unemployment. Just what are we supposed to do?

Generations

Frank Buckles died this week. You may have heard about it; at 110, he was the last living U.S. World War I veteran. Just a few days earlier, I was browsing Life magazine's gallery of the last living Civil War veterans. Walter Williams, who claimed to be the last man standing, died in 1959, when I was ten. Even at that age, I was aware of my place in history: Baby Boomer. My older brother and I were the leading edge of that population bulge created by the Greatest Generation in their relief and joy at finally being able to get on with their lives after the Great Depression and a World War.

As a Boomer, I am used to being noticed, even when the attention is unwelcome. At some point in my twenties, I started fantasizing about the world I will probably never know: the sunset years of the Baby Boom. Will the media continue to analyze us as we retire, succumb to senility and overcrowd the nation's nursing homes? How could they resist? Will anyone notice when the last Boomer dies? Gawd, I hope not.The last lucky individuals of my generation might actually be able to enjoy a few years of obscurity.

I wonder how Danny feels about being a member of his generation, whatstheirnames.