Relocating to a new city is a mixed bag — especially when you’re nearing retirement.
When I moved away from home for grad school in 1990 at age 28, it was easy to socialize, since I was surrounded by classmates eager to make friends.
But in 2021, when I moved from New York to Miami for work at age 58, it was much harder to meet new people. The COVID-19 pandemic was still lingering, and I tried to connect with colleagues over a socially distanced lunch, but I couldn’t really join clubs or meet neighbours. I found it hard to expand my relationships beyond work.
I wondered how I’d make any friends, but later that year, I reached out to an old acquaintance and learned that it’s possible to make good friends at any age.
I thought reaching out to old connections would be easier than making new ones
After arriving in Miami, I read articles about how to make friends as an adult. Some suggested rekindling old acquaintances. The logic seemed wiser than starting from scratch. I could reach out to people I already knew, or used to know even a little bit.
I looked through my Facebook friends and LinkedIn connections for people who lived in Miami. I paused on Bruno’s name because he brought back good memories. We had worked together seven years prior, when our respective companies collaborated on a project. I valued his ability to drive impressive results and radiate infectious positivity. He’d mentioned at the time that he appreciated how I kept the project on track.
I hesitated to reach out. Our interactions had been friendly, but we’d only connected through work. Would it seem odd to Bruno to get an email from me after all these years? And was I leaping too far by suggesting a personal lunch?
I swallowed my fears by crafting a friendly note, rereading it three times, and hitting send. The next day, Bruno responded warmly: “Welcome to Miami. I look forward to having lunch.”
When the lunch came around a few weeks later, it went better than I expected. In addition to chuckling over old war stories about work, we discovered that we were both news junkies, avid travelers, and cyclists. At the end, Bruno said, “That was really fun. You and your girlfriend should come over to our place for an Argentine barbecue.”
I loved having a friend to bond with before and after retirement
Bruno and I started lunching roughly every other week. I was approaching 60 and itching to leave my job, and Bruno was already semi-retired. As someone on the cusp of a new life chapter, I valued having a friend at the same juncture.
We’d frequently talk about all things retirement, like the best investment strategies for our retirement portfolios, including how much risk to take and how many international stocks to hold. Discussions with a wise friend were much more satisfying than reading through reams of investment advice. We could debate, candidly admit our concerns, and test our logic. I became wiser and more confident.
As we grew closer, we discussed our hopes and anxieties about stepping off the corporate treadmill. I explained my desire, after decades of work, to release myself from the self-imposed pressure of always being productive. Bruno shared that he’d dealt with similar feelings, which made me feel validated. Our conversations gave me the confidence I needed to take the plunge and enter retirement in 2022, without feeling as guilty as I might have done about working less and enjoying myself more.
Since I’ve retired, Bruno has been a valued companion. With no work schedules, we almost felt like we were playing hooky when we attended a weekday lecture by the Finnish ambassador to the US and took a day trip to see a touring Rembrandt exhibit. These post-retirement experiences are richer because I can share them with a friend who also enjoys exploring, joking, and giving his insights.
I’ve learned that you can form a great friendship at any age
I once mistakenly assumed that you can’t form close friendships later in life, without the social intensity and openness of youth. When I first moved to Miami, I thought I’d make some acquaintances or group friendships, rather than forming any deep bonds. I was prepared to feel somewhat lonely.
By taking a risk and reaching out to people, I found not only a friend, but a great friend, in Bruno.
Last summer, Bruno and I escaped Miami’s heat by flying to Upstate New York for a cycling trip. He fell on some railroad tracks, breaking his collarbone and ribs. In the emergency room, I whispered, “Let’s tell them I’m your brother, so I can stay past visiting hours.” I sat by his side until his procedures were done at 4 a.m., keeping him entertained with the type of stories and gallows humor that only good friends share. We tried not to laugh too hard, so his ribs wouldn’t jab him.
Bruno has since recovered and even bravely gotten back on his bike to meet me for meals again. During a recent get-together, he told me, “Some people are really surprised that I found such a good friend later in life.”
I replied with a smile, “What do you mean, friend? I thought we were brothers.”
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