When I was not yet twenty years old, our neighbor Jemmy retired. In our village, retirement was a big moment. Jemmy had spent his career in public service, and people respected him for it. He was known as a good villager—helpful, humble, and committed to the community.
At that time, the retirement age in our country was fifty-five. Once someone reached that age, it was understood that their working life was over. Jemmy had reached that milestone and stepped away from his job. In our minds, he had entered the stage of life where people rest, spend time with family, and live quietly in the village.
About five years after his retirement, Jemmy left for the United States. I never really knew how he managed to go there or what process he followed. In those days, traveling to America seemed like a distant dream for many people in our village. His departure remained a mystery to me.
Nearly twenty years later, I also came to the United States as an international student. Life was new and challenging. Everything—from the language to the culture and systems—required adjustment. One day, while settling into my new environment, I unexpectedly ran into Jemmy. To my surprise, Jemmy was not resting in retirement. He was working.
Seeing him there changed the way I thought about retirement and aging. Back home, Jemmy had already been considered a retiree. Yet here in the United States, he was still active, energetic, and fully engaged in work. He had adapted to a new country and was contributing through employment.
That moment taught me something important: many people we label as “retired” back home are actually still capable of working, learning, and contributing. The difference is often not their energy or ability—it is the environment and expectations around them.
In the United States, it is common to see older men and women still working. Some do it because they need to support themselves or their families. Others work because they enjoy staying active and productive. Either way, age does not automatically mean the end of work.
Over time, I began to say something that many people find interesting: the United States is a working country. By this I mean that life here is built around productivity and effort. Whether young or old, most people are involved in some kind of work. It is difficult to stay here without doing something meaningful—whether that is a job, a business, volunteering, or learning new skills.
Meeting Jemmy again after so many years gave me a powerful lesson. Retirement, I realized, is not simply about age. It is about opportunity, environment, and the willingness to remain active.
For immigrants like us, the story of Jemmy reminds us that life can start again—even after retirement, even in a new country, and even after many years. Sometimes the energy we thought had ended is simply waiting for a new place to be used.
At that time, the retirement age in our country was fifty-five. Once someone reached that age, it was understood that their working life was over. Jemmy had reached that milestone and stepped away from his job. In our minds, he had entered the stage of life where people rest, spend time with family, and live quietly in the village.
About five years after his retirement, Jemmy left for the United States. I never really knew how he managed to go there or what process he followed. In those days, traveling to America seemed like a distant dream for many people in our village. His departure remained a mystery to me.
Nearly twenty years later, I also came to the United States as an international student. Life was new and challenging. Everything—from the language to the culture and systems—required adjustment. One day, while settling into my new environment, I unexpectedly ran into Jemmy. To my surprise, Jemmy was not resting in retirement. He was working.
Seeing him there changed the way I thought about retirement and aging. Back home, Jemmy had already been considered a retiree. Yet here in the United States, he was still active, energetic, and fully engaged in work. He had adapted to a new country and was contributing through employment.
That moment taught me something important: many people we label as “retired” back home are actually still capable of working, learning, and contributing. The difference is often not their energy or ability—it is the environment and expectations around them.
In the United States, it is common to see older men and women still working. Some do it because they need to support themselves or their families. Others work because they enjoy staying active and productive. Either way, age does not automatically mean the end of work.
Over time, I began to say something that many people find interesting: the United States is a working country. By this I mean that life here is built around productivity and effort. Whether young or old, most people are involved in some kind of work. It is difficult to stay here without doing something meaningful—whether that is a job, a business, volunteering, or learning new skills.
Meeting Jemmy again after so many years gave me a powerful lesson. Retirement, I realized, is not simply about age. It is about opportunity, environment, and the willingness to remain active.
For immigrants like us, the story of Jemmy reminds us that life can start again—even after retirement, even in a new country, and even after many years. Sometimes the energy we thought had ended is simply waiting for a new place to be used.
