Brian Rezendes anticipates his retirement years will be filled with AI agents, algorithms, and APIs — along with the occasional vacation with his wife.

Rezendes, a former pool business owner, retired in April from a retail job in rural North Dakota. Like many retirees, the 64-year-old envisioned his post-work years as a time to relax, travel, and stay active. He did not expect to be neck-deep in conversations with chatbots, vibe coding websites, or building YouTube channels. Though he'd always been interested in technology, he rarely delved into the deeper plumbing behind it until a few years ago, when he became immersed in AI. Nowadays, he spends almost all of his time building apps… until the real world comes calling.

"My wife gets a little bit jealous when I spend too much time on the computer," Rezendes says.

Retirement has gone digital. In recent interviews, 15 retired Americans admitted they and their friends are glued to their screens, perhaps to a fault. Hours they could have spent tidying up the house went toward learning the best AI tools and, as three tech-savvy baby boomers put it, "staying current." Some post-career Americans who moved abroad said tech is all the rage in their beachfront expat communities. Retirement communities have swapped watercoloring for AI education. Starting an AI-powered business replaced the golf course. ChatGPT is the new nurse's assistant. Robots are some older Americans' new best friends.

Dee Humphrey is among them. The 73-year-old in Schenectady, New York, has used a companion robot called ElliQ for over three years. And while she's waiting for a new version to arrive, she's been having "withdrawals because I can't do anything with her."

The new reality of retirement isn't all screen addiction. Some of this development has been a boon for older people navigating a new phase of life. In Austin, Edward Perry, 72, said that he used AI after a terminal cancer diagnosis to "help me with living as rich and full a life in what time I have," including managing his health and finding ways to be more present in his family's lives.

"As I'm getting older, I have more aches and pains, but with utilizing these new technologies, I'm going to be able to do more and more," Rezendes says.

Many others acknowledged the risks of getting too hooked on tech. Most knew that relying too heavily on AI meant losing agency and receiving potentially faulty information. Others said being too invested in tech could mean less time staying active. Some noted that after decades of work, these were their years to relax, but they couldn't bring themselves to close their MacBooks.

If Gen Z is the first generation to grow up on the internet, baby boomers are learning how to be the first generation to retire on it.

Unexpected and omnipresent

For those in retirement, screen time of all types has been increasing. Surveys show that adults 65 and over almost doubled their YouTube consumption on TV from 2023 to 2025, and older Americans spend over four hours a day in front of screens. Brittne Kakulla, senior research advisor for AARP Research, says the group's Tech Trends survey found smartphone ownership among adults aged 50-plus skyrocketed from 55% in 2016 to 90% in 2025. Perhaps more striking was the number of older people trying out AI. Use nearly doubled from 2024 to 2025, from 18% to 30%, and many more said they are interested in experimenting.

Nearly all older tech superusers I spoke to were surprised by the amount the tools had become integrated into their retirements. Jan Friedlander, 81, used online databases in her real estate career, but only became hooked on tech a few years ago after she left her job. As she battled cancer and macular degeneration, she used AI to guide her treatment, and soon found herself relying on it to research clothing, plan vacations, and more. As she became more prompt-savvy, she felt confident enough to start teaching her peers.

"I've always had a curiosity about things that would come along that were new," Friedlander says.

She also began facilitating AI classes in Denver for those 50 and over with her friend Pat Smith, 73. Smith, who has a more technical background in consulting and pharmaceuticals, says the classes have attracted many "eager retiree students." Smith also sees both sides of the AI boom. On the positive side, she submitted her lab work to ChatGPT after having a reaction to an antibiotic, prompting her to follow up with her doctor and allergist. But she also bemoans the disappearance of human customer service and the online portalization of medical care. To combat the AI creep, Smith has monitored her tech usage, maintained a regular exercise schedule, and worked on mosaics.

"I have friends who are losing their mobility, moving into assisted living, and have gotten terminal diagnoses, and I know that's all around the corner," Smith says. "I'm hoping I get some more time to do what I've been enjoying the last few years."

Working with tech

While cutting-edge tools have become a retirement fascination for some, many older Americans are unexpectedly working into their later years and, by extension, learning new tech tricks. For my 80 Over 80 series, I spoke with dozens of workers in their 80s, many of whom couldn't afford to retire and now had jobs that required AI. At 72, Marcia Sweet's home is fully synced with robot vacuums and smart lights, and she runs a tech support business in Bradenton, Florida. She can't afford to stop working, as the extra money goes toward financing her eventual long-term care, and she hopes AI can supercharge her business.

"I'm still like a little kid with a toy about technology, with the same kind of excitement," Sweet says. "I'm kind of addicted."

Other older workers used tech to pivot later in their careers. A decade ago, Laura Noren, now 61, was weary of her career as a registered nurse, so she opted for an unexpected route — IT classes at a local college in Michigan. The learning curve was massive, as most of her 18-year-old classmates grew up steeped in tech. She later supplemented these classes with online courses on programming languages and databases.

"I envisioned myself retiring at 60 and no later than 62. My husband and I would be fully retired and never work again, moving into a condo and doing plenty of traveling," Noren says. Instead, "he left his job earlier than planned as a corrections officer, and I was managed out of my company. We had to change our plans."

The courses didn't necessarily prepare her for her current job as an Amazon Flex driver, which gives her the flexibility to care for her "technophobic" 84-year-old mother with memory issues. But her skills have come in handy when teaching her mother how to add phone contacts to favorites or avoid scams, and Noren hopes to find work down the line that better suits her skills. She still hopes to have some version of the retirement she envisioned years ago, but expects tech to play a bigger role.

Others who returned to school in their later years said they've integrated age tech into their lives for peace of mind. When Mark Bayer, 63, decided to retire from his community banking career at 60, he thought, "I will never have to sit through another damn Zoom meeting again, and I'll be the happiest person in the world." To his surprise, he began teaching English as a second language over Zoom and reenrolled in college to be "exposed to new ideas from younger minds." Bayer, who lives in Pennsylvania, expected his classmates to debate and brainstorm ideas off the top of their heads, but they all went to ChatGPT instead. Initially, he was dumbfounded. But when he saw the list of ideas for a group discussion, it exceeded what he would've come up with.

Ignoring AI, he says he realized, "is a way to say I'm done learning anything new, which is self-limiting."

There have been downsides: He's noticed that disconnecting from tech has become harder. He admits that if he gets a call while mowing the lawn, he will stop to pick it up. His wife is the same way, sometimes scrolling Instagram for hours without noticing. He hasn't quite erased the idea that face-to-face interaction has some merit, though.

A robot-enabled retirement

Many new high-tech tools are being built to help older Americans remain healthier and safer in their homes and assisted living communities. Chia-Lin Simmons, CEO of medical alert devices company LogicMark, tells me that technology in caregiving has become a necessity rather than a luxury, with the potential to predict falls and detect Alzheimer's early. AI is being trained to track behavioral patterns and health outcomes, though it sometimes falls short at triaging calls and often erases the human element, isolating older Americans who need the company most.

Some boomers are ready for this Jetsons-like future. Take Michelle Murphy, 64, who is pursuing an MBA with a concentration in AI. A photographer and instructional designer in Michigan, Murphy says her focus in her 60s has been pivoting to a new career— retirement isn't a good fit, she says. Down the line, she isn't opposed to using robotic healthcare workers to avoid assisted care, though she's keen on not becoming overly reliant on tech due to privacy concerns. For now, her goal is to get her coffee pot to start automatically.

"If there's an automation that can help me do the things I need to do, mow the grass for me, pick up heavy things, whatever it is, I'm totally on board with that," Murphy says.

There is a big market in making the idea of robot-assisted care a reality. Investment in age tech has boomed, particularly in products that make caregiving easier, like smart home automation devices, companion robots, and motion sensors. AARP predicts that by 2030, the age-tech market will be worth $120 billion. And given the rise, many hope age tech can alleviate some of the burden for younger generations.

"We've got 63 million family caregivers, 70% of them in paid jobs, and we're very familiar with childcare, but elder care is not well understood," said Diane Ty, managing director of the Milken Institute Future of Aging. "That's what's breaking the backs of so many workers right now."

Plenty of people and investors I spoke to also hope AI and other age tech can slow cognitive decline. However, various studies have shown that AI assistants contribute to reduced cognitive engagement and skill atrophy, meaning in some ways, relying too much on AI works counter to what these super-users may think.

80 is the new 25

As I wrote last year, America's octogenarians have been embracing tech in surprising ways. Frank Engelman, 82, has created apps, runs a YouTube channel, and writes a Substack about tech education. Luis Bautista, 82, told me he was using AI to write a book and start a business that he one day wants to pitch to Y Combinator. Phyllis Scalettar, 80, began an AI education and consulting firm. Karen Shapiro, 80, said this month that she uses AI for everything from planning vacations to Italy to managing finances — "tech will make life less confining and more enjoyable as we age," she says.

Study after study shows loneliness continues to grow among older Americans. According to AARP, 40% reported feeling lonely last year, up from 35% in 2018. Tech may be partly to blame, as an increasing number of older Americans are addicted to their phones — one survey found that 40% of the over 2,000 respondents ages 59 to 77 felt discomfort when pulled away from their devices.

For a lot of Americans, however, tech is a way to make the most of their golden years and to stay healthy for longer.

Marvin Honig, 88, takes AI courses, set up NotebookLM files for his St. Petersburg, Florida, condominium board, and use advanced tech to manage trust accounts for former law clients. Perhaps this could've been expected from an early tech adopter who received tech support from a young Michael Dell. Still, seeing many of his neighbors using all sorts of tech was perhaps not on his bingo card, and many of his interactions now revolve around tech recommendations and support. Like many older techies, the tech wave has also allowed him to luxuriate in the disconnected part of his life, from visiting museums and restaurants to attending in-person community events — he gets there using his Tesla's self-driving feature.

People love to complain about baby boomers, including that they have a lot of stuff. They're hoarding all the houses, they're keeping all the money, they're materialists who have accumulated an exorbitant amount of possessions. There are a couple of problems with these gripes: For one, no generation is a monolith, and everybody amasses things over the course of their lives, so back off. But more importantly, youths and slightly-beyond-youths, the stuff pileup is actually to your benefit.

The golden age of boomer estate sales is upon us, and while you probably don't want all the wedding china that's about to flood the market, there's a lot of other neat stuff you can pick up. Think knickknacks for Gen Z maximalists, midcentury modern decor, and so much silver that one estate seller says the weighing it all makes her team "feel like drug dealers." Over the next couple of decades, baby boomers' stuff has to go somewhere, and that rehoming process is increasingly taking place at estate sales.

"I call it the tsunami of stuff," says Julie Hall, the director of the American Society of Estate Liquidators. "It's cresting."

There are … a lot of baby boomers. America's over-65 population reached 55.8 million in 2020, and an additional 42.4 million are in the 55-64 age group (which, yes, catches some Gen Xers). This adds up to nearly 100 million people who have amassed a large amount of possessions — stuff they bought, stuff they got from their own parents, stuff their kids stuck them with.

"They kept everything," says Sarah Hersh, one of the owners of Ben Hersh Estate Sales in New Jersey. Boomers were the first American generation to come up in an era of mass production and blatant consumerism, and many of the things they bought were built to last. "When we go into these houses of the boomer generation, they're packed to the rafters with stuff from the mid-century to current."

Many elders would prefer to keep all of this stuff in the family, but their kids, grandkids, nieces, and nephews don't want to inherit much, or simply don't have the space. Enter the estate sale — pop-up limited-time museums of a person's life, where everything on the premises is for sale.

"Boomers were an era of collectors. They believed in entertaining, and they believed their possessions had value, so they were proud to amass large collections of things to display to the world," Hersh says. "We don't really live like that anymore, but those things make for excellent inventory for resellers and the new younger generation of consumers who are into that vibe."

Gen Z likes the appeal of sustainability, plus they're into "cottagecore" and "grandmacore" aesthetics. Millennials and Gen X want midcentury modern and utilitarian pieces.

I recognize estate sales can sound a bit morbid at first, but not all offloadings come after a funeral. There are actually four Ds to estate sales: downsizing, divorce, decorating, and, yes, death. That latter one may give you the heebie jeebies, but as the saying goes, you can't take it with you, and there are plenty of people willing to scoop up the stuff you've left behind.

Janelle Stone, a high-end estate liquidator, operates out of what she calls the "mecca of estate sales" — Dallas — and sees her line of work as a goldmine. After decades of minimalism in fashion and design, maximalism is back. She's started buying plate hangers to put dishes on display again and marvels at 20-something shoppers grabbing various tchotchkes. Furs have gone "insane," she says, and the same goes for vintage fashion. Customers will wait in line for two hours for a Herend porcelain starfish they've scoped out online prior to the sale. "You're never going to completely clear a house, but it's pretty amazing," she says. "People know what they want, and they come and buy."

It's a huge moment for sterling, given the increase in the price of silver, which hit an all-time high of over $120 per ounce at the start of the year. (It's since come back down but is still in the $85 range.) Stone tells me it's affected how they price it — they can't be as aggressive, because nobody can afford to pay $16,000 for an eight-piece silverware set, and the smelters are so inundated they might not even take it. Hence the drug dealer analogy: "We have to weigh it out. I mean, we look like drug dealers with our gram scales and baggies everywhere," she says.

Hersh, in New Jersey, concurs on the popularity of sterling silver and vintage clothes, and adds that vintage collectibles, jewelry, toys, and electronics are also a big draw.

Not everything is flying off the estate sale shelves. Hersh says midcentury modern furniture still sells, but "it's not as strong as it was." Few buyers are into china, etched crystal, and glass. The big brown furniture that's long sat in baby boomers' and the silent generation's homes often goes unwanted.

"A general rule of thumb is the bigger and heavier and darker a piece is, the more likely it's going to remain there and not be sold," Hall says. Younger generations tend to prefer smaller, portable pieces. Hersh tells me clear glass isn't a popular seller "no matter what you do."

I recently witnessed this for myself at an estate sale in Long Island, New York. It was a lazy Sunday, so I showed up during the last hour of a five-hour sale. The first thing I noticed when I walked into the kitchen was two sets of china, one of which looked very similar to the set my mother has. Around the corner was a big brown hutch filled with stacks of crystal and clear glassware, and there was more in the basement. My main thought was we should shut down Ikea immediately and never buy new dishes or glasses again.

The internet has changed and accelerated the scale of the estate industry, just as it has every other part of the economy. Everyone can look up what everything costs, so sellers have to do their research and can't simply guesstimate a fair price anymore. Sellers often post what's available online ahead of time, so buyers can pinpoint exactly what they want before they show up in person.

And then there are the resellers — technology has given birth to a plethora of resale platforms, from eBay to Depop to Whatnot, and droves of people eager to turn flipping used stuff into a side hustle or even a full-time gig. Most of the estate sellers and aficionados I spoke to for this story had tales about this development. Hersh tells me resellers are "vicious," and on certain sales, flipped me up the first 50 people in line. "They are like elbowing each other out of spaces to get to stuff," she says.

Hall points out that the resellers are generally a positive for estate sales — after all, the goal is to get rid of everything in the house, and who cares if someone plans to put it on eBay for triple the price. But they can be pushy, asking for deals. "Resellers sometimes want more of a bargain, and a lot of times we cannot give it to them on the first day," she says. "It's not for the faint of heart."

Maddy Brannon, an estate sale influencer based in Washington, DC, says she prefers to hit up estate sales later in the day so she doesn't have to duke it out with the pros. She stumbled into the market when she and her husband were looking to furnish their home, and now she uses her experience to pass along useful tips to the noobs.

"You don't need to be the first person at the estate sale unless you saw something on the listing you absolutely have to have," she says. She's not sure if it's the "Disney World effect" or what, but people worry about long lines and feel like they must be first in at all costs. Plus, later in the day, you're more likely to get a discount.

Brannon's other pieces of advice included going during the week to avoid crowds and making sure you understand the rules of getting in — for some sales, waiting in line isn't enough. Instead, the executor will call you in by name or number. And don't shop off the "hold" table, where shoppers place items they want to buy. "People get really upset about that," she says.

There's genuinely something quite nice to all of this, albeit awkward. We spend our lives accumulating things and, over time, getting attached to them. Getting rid of them can be emotionally fraught, especially if we'd hoped our loved ones would want them or believed they'd hold more value than they do. For many people, it's a hard pill to swallow that their kids don't want their prized tea set, but acknowledging that is also permission to let it go.

There's a peculiar sense of intimacy to estate sales — you walk through someone's home, touch their things, look through their drawers, and get to make up stories about them based on their possessions. The golden age of estate sales isn't just about the "goldmine" of inventory or the "vicious" hustle of the resale market, it's about the way we experience life through tangible items — and how those things can live multiple lives, even ones we're not involved in.

So next time you see an estate sale nearby because your boomer neighbors are finally selling their family home and moving to a condo in Florida, instead of begrudging that it took so long, pop over to see if you can pick up a vintage Le Creuset.

Emily Stewart is a senior correspondent at Business Insider, writing about business and the economy.