Should You Keep Social Media After Retirement?

News source or entertainment?

I’d never thought of Instagram as a news site until Trump’s ICE agents invaded Minnesota last January, detaining and brutalizing immigrants and other people of color and killing two white citizens on the street in broad daylight. The horror, the family separations, the economic impacts of that brutality will never leave our collective consciousness.

Amid it all, as I used the newspaper and public radio and neighborhood Signal chats to follow the violence and resistance, I noticed that my older son in London, then 35, seemed to have a better handle on the goings-on than I did.

Younger people are more likely to be regular news consumers on TikTok, Instagram, Reddit and X. Democrats are also more likely than Republicans to say they get news from Instagram.
Pew Research Center, September 25, 2025

“This ICE stuff in the Cities is insane,” he wrote me on WhatsApp on January 17, 2026, a week before agents murdered Alex Pretti. “I’m seeing at least 3–4 new videos every day of something horrible. Two people have been shot, one kid permanently blinded. Shot from point blank with a pepper ball and dragged away by his collar.”

When I asked Sam about his news source, he replied instantly: Instagram. “Everyone is recording and posting everything,” he said. And then he directed me to Unicorn Riot, from which algorithms eventually led me to all kinds of local heroes and local news — on the ground, unfiltered, in real time.

Instagram is the social media site where I am learning the most from other people’s posts and reels. Where I think less about cultivating a “professional” persona and feel most free to get creative with what I want to present, as I did in the first reel I posted, during the ICE invasion.

My reasons for staying? Instagram checks all three of my boxes: whole self, creativity and education. News source or entertainment? I like that Instagram is both.

You’re my Bluesky . . . or not

I joined Bluesky by invitation — the only way to get on the platform initially — in September 2023. I was managing editor of Streets.mn, a community-oriented online magazine in the Twin Cities, and up until that time, Twitter had been my go-to platform to build sources and follow trends among the multimodal advocates, urban planners, city zoning experts and climate activists — the self-described “urbanists” — who were far younger than I was.

My Twitter profile, which dated back to 2008, had a photo of my dogs, a description of me as both an employee and a volunteer, and lots of posts about women’s basketball, reproductive rights and local politics. I felt free to be myself on a platform that felt less polished and performative than Facebook.

Elon Musk changed that. Once the billionaire took over Twitter in October 2022, eventually rebranding it to X with a foreboding black background, the left-leaning regulars already were abandoning it. Progressives started migrating to Bluesky in February 2023, when the platform was being beta-tested as an invitation-only app and two years after Bluesky had parted ways with X. (Ironically, Bluesky started as a Twitter initiative back in 2019.)

By late 2024, when Bluesky was fully open to the public, major media like Forbes and CBS News were covering the exodus from Twitter. I had no interest in associating myself with Musk or the second Trump regime, but the larger reason why I quit posting to X in November 2024 — though I have maintained my account, for posterity, I suppose — was that I didn’t want my Streets.mn sources and writers to think I was out of touch.

In true social media style, I had an image to maintain, in this case as the still “with it” older woman.

Truth is, since resigning from the editorial position, I have struggled to discover who I am on Bluesky. I was there in a role, as an editor who made connections because it served my job. Now the task is to shape and share my own identity. But I don’t find the platform receptive to who I am.

My blog posts on mindful aging generate little engagement, and the one time I tried to reveal myself — describing my despair when thieves ransacked my well-tended Little Free Library — one commenter shrugged: “I thought that’s what Little Free Libraries are for.”

Conservative columnist George Will recently described a progressive politician as being “fluent in the online snark and condescension that clog social media.” Though I take issue with Will on any number of issues, I do agree with those who’ve criticized Bluesky as a “monoculture” that neither invites nor elevates dissenting views.

Using my own criteria, what are the reasons for staying? I can’t think of one. I rarely bother to post anymore.

The last ‘Link’ to professionalism?

I recently revised my résumé from four single-spaced pages to a single sheet that emphasizes volunteering, family and personal interests, names me as retired and focuses on the attributes (“well organized, high energy, community minded”) that I hope will land me a part-time job, at some point, at a neighborhood business.

The résumé does list my LinkedIn profile, which these days showcases my blog and freelance writing and the publication I write and edit for the Bicycle Alliance of Minnesota. So, that’s reason enough to keep the account active, even though I’ve posted only six times this year and the “impressions” for each post have been diminishing.

LinkedIn allows professionals, including the middle class, to invest in themselves in order to find the right jobs.
Democratic mega-donor and LinkedIn co-founder Reid Hoffman

LinkedIn takes hits for being inauthentic, promoting “humble bragging” and trading in “personal brand growth.” I use it as a professional bulletin board and an online space that feels safe. Because it’s meant for career-building, LinkedIn has a decorum that appeals to my understanding of what constructive dialogue and “good manners” means.

Several of my retired peers have kept their LinkedIn pages, though they rarely post. “I wanted people to know I retired,” says one, “and I don’t see any harm in keeping it. Today it told me my cousin has a new job, and I wouldn’t have known without LinkedIn. It’s interesting to see what people are up to.”

Another friend laughs that her LinkedIn page is “deep in cobwebs. I don’t even remember my password at this point.” I’ve worked in the field of currency and communications for too long to keep a site active that I never look at and maintain.

Reason for staying? Maybe that’s a fourth criterion. Because for now, at least, it serves me.

Don’t Patronize Products that Patronize You

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At a time of life when my income is increasingly limited, with a set monthly amount from Social Security, a small pension from my years as a newspaper journalist and whatever I can scratch up from contract work, everyone is pitching me to spend money on stuff I neither want nor need.

The neighborhood newspaper I subscribe to invariably has advertising inserts for pricey senior living buildings that deliver less than what they promise, if my late mother’s experience is any example. The spam calls from people wanting to sell me burial insurance have morphed from being a joke (talk about feeling old!) to merely an annoyance, especially after I’ve told the caller that I plan to be cremated.

But the most egregious examples of unwanted sales pitches are the omnipresent ads in my personal Gmail account. Every time I check email, which is multiple times a day from my iPhone, at least two new “sponsored” emails pop up, many advertising products or experiences I have never purchased or even searched for online.

Recent examples include:

An ad for a women’s “three-wheel e-bike” by a manufacturer that clearly views the word “tricycle” as a turnoff, though that’s what it is;
A promise of “$5,000 off any trip” from Overseas Adventure Travel, which specializes in expensive luxury group tours, including for solo (read: widowed and well-heeled) travelers;
Ads for Eileen Fisher’s “responsibly made” tops that offer “the right mix of comfort and style” — flattering, just-below-the-waist designs meant to hide the thicker midsections women develop after menopause; and
Skechers slip-in shoes, all flats, with catchy names like “Classy Cruiser” and “Reggae Slim.” This may be the most practical example of all, given that no woman I know in her 60s wears high heels for any but the most special occasion, and even then, she likely packs her walking shoes in a discreet cloth bag.

Despite living in an Amazon-influenced era, I don’t like to shop online. Plus, I’ve grown increasingly impatient with advertising now that I record the TV shows and women’s basketball games I want to watch precisely so I can zip through the commercials — a shocking number of which are for prescriptions with a litany of scary or smelly side effects.

But that’s not the problem. What disturbs me is advertisers’ assumptions about seniors, which rarely line up with the realities and reflections of my post-career life. Or with the passions, politically fueled anxieties and inevitable physical afflictions that dominate conversations with my friends.

“The public’s perception of aging is . . . antithetical to how most older people feel and what experts in the field know to be true.”
National Center to Reframe Aging

Not all of us want to travel abroad, pamper our pets, fix up our homes (we’re lucky if they’re paid for) or attend cultural events that occur downtown at night. Yet that is what the sponsored ads in my Gmail account push: new windows, cheaper internet, a dinner theater 23 miles away, a Tai Chi walking program that looks laughably slow for a fitness walker who moves 18,000 steps a day.

What I want from Gmail is no ads at all. I’m no one’s target market anymore. Or at least push the products and places I care about: good face cream, artsy earrings and glasses frames, locally owned bookstores and bike shops. By this age, I know what I want and need.

I understand, sort of, how algorithms work. That an ad not just for L.L. Bean but for their fleece-lined bedroom slippers and winter-walking Stabilicers will show up as banner ads on other websites after I’ve scrolled the Bean site for just those items.

So, yes, I get it that many of the sponsored ads in my personal Gmail — which, oddly, never show up in my work-related account — relate to some web search or another. I don’t want an e-trike (at least not yet), but I do read “Bicycling” magazine online. Maybe the ad for shapeless shirt dresses from Maye, a company I’ve never heard of, is there because the algorithm knows I’m 68, an age at which many women have developed enough self-confidence and common sense to prioritize comfort over body-hugging fashion.

Or am I giving the faceless algorithm too much credit?

A recent article titled “Marketing to Seniors,” which promised “transformative insights” into reaching my digital-wary demographic, manages to be both heartwarming and offensive — not unlike the senior-focused ads I see.

On the upside: The urge toward “straightforward language” and “offering customer support through phone calls rather than automated messages” strikes me as practical and respectful. Whatever our level of digital savvy, or lack thereof, we Baby Boomers are comfortable and conversant with a telephone.
On the downside: The article’s call to feature photos of people “5 to 10 years younger than your target demographic” because “it’s how folks tend to see themselves” may be accurate, I’m sorry to say, but it also is blatantly ageist and emotionally cruel.

Employing younger people to sell products and services to seniors plays on the insecurities and fears of older women, in particular, who for decades have been barraged with the fiction that only youth can be attractive.

In the United States alone, the beauty industry is expected to garner $106 billion (yes, B for billion) in 2026. And now the folks who are marketing senior housing, flowing clothing and expensive foreign trips are instructed by advertising experts to employ models whose only sign of authentic aging is coiffed white hair.

I’d like people my age — women, especially — to fight ageism by boycotting products that imply growing old is a shameful condition to be hidden and denied. Older Americans Month in May urges us “to recognize the contributions of older adults” and “to raise awareness concerning elder abuse and neglect.” Let’s also grant older people the dignity of portraying us as we are, even if the advertising art directors think their necks will never wrinkle, their eyebrows won’t thin and their thighs will forever remain smooth.

Shopping can stimulate cognitive processes, provide physical benefits, and function as a leisure pursuit that promotes social engagement.
Comfort Keepers, “Benefits of Shopping for Older Adults“

It isn’t that I dislike spending money. I’m as susceptible as anyone to the dopamine fix of treating myself to things and experiences, whether new walking shoes or a weekend getaway. But as I grow older, I am both more philanthropic — if by “philanthropy” you also count generosity with your grown children — and more intentional about where I invest my finite resources.

Age has shifted my priorities and patterns.

I support my favorite players in the Twin Cities’ dynamic arts scene, local media organizations, and our Big 10 and professional women’s basketball teams.
I lean toward statewide chapters of environmental and animal rescue operations, a plausible excuse to turn away telemarketers.
Facebook Marketplace has become my ally as I purge myself of the possessions I’ve accumulated over the years or search out good-quality, inexpensive baby gear — a Thule jogging stroller, a Graco highchair — for my grandson.

I enjoy shopping, especially for groceries, and try to support the shops and restaurants in my neighborhood, especially after seeing several go dark during COVID. Recently I learned that elderly folks (not quite where I am yet) benefit from in-person shopping because it gets them outside, keeps them moving, prods them to make decisions and handle money, and forces interactions with others younger than themselves.

Less need or desire for stuff, an aversion to online shopping and a commitment to supporting my own community all make me a poor target for the products that companies are pitching me online. Except maybe this one: The You Are Enough Co. spammed me with an ad recently for “Dear Person” T-shirts and sweatshirts.

Curious about the concept, I clicked through and learned that You Are Enough aims to boost and normalize mental health awareness through clothing that proclaims to onlookers: “The world needs you” and “You are great.”

I may buy one and gift it to an older woman who needs a reminder that, no matter how much society tries to convince her to hide her age, she is fine just as she is. She’s earned her wear and wrinkles.

Then again, maybe I’ll keep that T-shirt for myself.

Retirement Offers Opportunities for Giving Back

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April is National Volunteer Month, a chance for people to celebrate and explore community involvement and engagement. For those of us born and raised in Minnesota, it’s a given that this liberal oasis of the Upper Midwest — the state with the most progressive politics, consistently high voter turnout and a nation-leading Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund — would also rank highly in volunteerism.

According to Minnesota Compass, a nonprofit affiliate that provides “credible, easy-to-access data” about the state:

42.4 percent of Minnesotans age 16 and older volunteer, placing us behind only Utah and Vermont and outranking neighboring South Dakota by 1.3 percentage points, Iowa by over 5 points and Wisconsin by 11 points (though the Dairy State bests Minnesota in voter turnout).
Fundraising and food collection top our volunteer activities, followed by clothing distribution, providing transportation, youth mentoring, and tutoring or teaching.
And here’s one from the Bureau of Labor Statistics: On any given day, adults (especially women) age 65 and older are far more likely to volunteer than older teens or young to middle-aged adults. No surprise: We have the gift of time!

At this stage of life — post-career, my parents gone, my two sons launched and thriving — working for a cause rather than a paycheck has become more possible and palatable. “Never give away your time for something you can get paid for,” an attorney once told me as he was setting up a consulting business toward the end of his career. In short, don’t write and edit for free if you can land contract work or freelance gigs.

But that dictum matters less to me now that I’m retired. In fact, one motivation for volunteering since I left full- and part-time employment is to make use of the professional skills that I honed for decades. Having the luxury of less structured time and the opportunity to stay engaged with both peers and younger people are other good reasons for retired Boomers — “the wealthiest generation to have ever lived,” according to the Michigan Journal of Economics — to get out there and give back.

The Golden Rule of volunteering? Put others first.

What do we owe?

The rewards of a professional, managerial-level career tend to be long term, and realized through your leadership and mentoring of others. Volunteering, by contrast, lets you make a tangible, immediate impact in a two- or three-hour shift.

Our clients at the warehouse and food shelf in my neighborhood have to meet federal poverty guidelines to qualify for one monthly visit. I do my best to ensure it’s worth their while. Because of my recent work as a warehouse greeter, people saw a well-stocked display of expensive protein drinks next to the bottled water. And got a shot at fancy popcorn varieties that I hustled onto the floor after opening boxes of donations from Target. And had the chance to take home cans of cat food, which rarely is supplied, and the extra-large jars of peanut butter that always move quickly because each family is entitled to only one jar.
The exhausted grandmother who drove a family member from South Dakota to Planned Parenthood North Central States in St. Paul may not have found a bathroom for her restless granddaughters had I not worked an escort shift last week.
The woman suffering from a UTI wouldn’t have been shielded from the invasive press of protestors on the city sidewalk outside our building, who assume that every visitor to Planned Parenthood is there for an abortion.
The young woman whose face looked drained following her clinic visit would have had no one to wave down her Uber and get the driver to pick her up beyond earshot of the white-haired men and stern, determined women shouting unsolicited advice.

I like to walk, bike or take the bus home from these volunteer gigs, so I have time to reflect on the satisfaction of helping others, with no expectation of payback. I was born into privilege and, more importantly, given the tools — higher education, investment skills and acumen, the modeling of my father’s work ethic — that have allowed me to build and sustain a comfortable life.

“Of whom much is given, much is required” (Luke 12:58). Although I’m not prone to quoting Bible verses, in part because I’m not among the 78% of U.S. seniors who identify as Christian, I do believe that privileged people are obligated to make a difference in their community and the wider world.

And we are: Over half of all volunteers in Minnesota have annual household incomes of at least $75,000 and nearly 47% of volunteers are non-Hispanic whites, a population whose household incomes outstrip those of all races except Asian Americans.

Better now than never

Given the life shift that retirement represents, the benefits to seniors of volunteering are the best argument for getting involved: increase your physical activity, meet new friends, stave off loneliness and isolation, regain a sense of purpose. Indeed, numerous studies seek to prove how volunteering can improve physical and mental health as we grow older.

“I don’t know how I found time to work” is a common refrain among those of us who are recently retired. Just under 40% of volunteers in Minnesota are 65-plus, says the Compass data, placing us fifth among U.S. states for the percentage of older-age volunteers.

I first toe-dipped into authentic volunteering, which I distinguish from job-related community involvement, in January 2018. I signed up online at Planned Parenthood, eager to work on behalf of reproductive freedom — a cause that I consider essential to women’s equality and empowerment.

Soon I was staffing tables at various events and working at phone banks, often to stump for pro-choice legislative candidates. Since retiring, I have upped my activities with Planned Parenthood — helping to pack abortion kits, serving as a clinic escort — even though my reproductive years are over. I want to remain in touch with social issues and riff off the energy of people less than half my age.

Volunteers at the Keystone Community Food Center in St. Paul — which houses a food market, a sizable warehouse and several foodmobile trucks — tend more toward folks like me: white, well-off retirees who are past the demands of full-time careers but physically agile enough to work on our feet and cart around heavy boxes of food and supplies.

Quote by cellist Pablo Casals, on a bridge over Midtown Greenway in Minneapolis.

Some of the causes may affect us older volunteers less directly than they once did, and the outcome of issues like climate change and threats to America’s democratic experiment will harm our children and grandchildren’s generations more than ours. But that speaks to what, I believe, is the most worthy reason to volunteer: to leave the world a better place.

“Your legacy is the world you leave behind for the people you love the most,” says climate activist and Third Act founder Bill McKibben. We proved ourselves up to that challenge in Minnesota during the federal government’s violent occupation earlier this year.

That makes me proud.

The Middle Stages: Between Midlife and Old Age

By Amy Gage

Retirement Offers Opportunities for Giving Back

What do we owe?

Better now than never

News source or entertainment?

You’re my Bluesky . . . or not

The last ‘Link’ to professionalism?

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What do we owe?

Better now than never

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