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On his 77^th birthday last spring, my boyhood pal George wrapped up 50 years of practicing medicine in New Jersey.

He had imagined that watershed Friday evening for eons. No more haggling with insurance companies. No more payroll to meet. No more consultations in the middle of the night.

It would be Him Time. George Time.

But ever since he locked the office door one final time, George has been floundering. He’s not a lost duck exactly. But by his own description, “I’m not using time well. I’m not scaling new mountains. I’m just sitting around and wondering what to do next.”

It has been no consolation that hundreds of other 70-somethings are in the same boat. He is used to being organized, purposeful, self-reliant.

He doesn’t want to be diverted into macrame classes or folk dancing. He wants to achieve a new, large goal. But what?

“I have no answer,” he wrote me a couple of months ago. “I don’t even have a leg up on an answer.”

Which made me hop on the phone and become Bob the Retirement Counselor for Old Guys.

“If you had never had such a successful and demanding career,” I said, “I’d be very worried about you. But look what you did. You saved hundreds of lives. You kept learning. Your gray matter at 77 is still as good as ever.”

George snorted and disagreed. “Over the last couple of years, I needed a shot of coffee in the afternoon to keep going,” he admitted. “And now, not even coffee is helping.

“I’m mopey, Bob. I’m unmoored.”

I teased him that Mopey and Unmoored would be a good name for a rock band. Maybe he could be the lead singer? But George was not about to be jollied out of the dumps.

“Ideas, man,” he said. “I need ideas.”

So, I gave him one that he had never previously considered: Community service.

George has lived in the same New Jersey community for half a century. He knew the ins and outs of local life even though he didn’t realize it.

His kids had grown up there. His neighbors were longtime friends. His experience would be hugely valuable.

George snorted again. “If you’re telling me to run for office, I know a psychiatrist who would be just right for you.”

No need, I told him. “What I can envision is George the Volunteer.”

“Hmmm,” said George, the way people say Hmmm when they have never previously considered something.

I spun some possibilities.

Local commissions — maybe one to bolster the public library, maybe one to consider changes to local environmental policies.

Local boards — not just ones that want your money, but scores that could use George’s expertise. Not just in the medical realm. Maybe a board that oversees the local volunteer fire department. Maybe a board that works on zoning. The list would be endless.

Local nonprofits — maybe George thinks he has nothing to offer here, I said. But what he has shown across his years of practice is judgment. “I have never known a nonprofit that can operate without judgment,” I told him.

And if he’s looking for real action, local politics. “Get involved with the county council or the town board of supervisors,” I suggested. “This doesn’t have to be partisan. In fact, it’s better if it isn’t. Just show up and say you want to help. They will welcome another oar in the water with research, with planning.”

Cherry on top: Since George won’t be paid, he won’t have to worry about the career ladder or office politics. He can say what he thinks. He can give it his best shot, always.

George was honest about all this. His comfort zone was in the medical world, he said. Those other worlds? “I’m honestly a little frightened of them,” he told me.

“Don’t be,” I said. “I know this is easier said than done. But what I’m hearing is that My Guy George wants to bust out into an entirely new direction. So do that!

“In the medical world, you’d be just another former doc. In these other worlds, you’d be a guy who doesn’t want to coast on your past training or your past experience. You’d be bold. Bold is good.”

George gave me a few more Hmmms. Then he had to ring off to pick up a grandchild at day care. We agreed to e-mail again in a month.

The month turned out to be two weeks.

“Bob,” he wrote, “I have been volunteering at the local public library. Never had any idea how complicated their role is, especially after the pandemic. Budgets. Safety. Which books to stock and which not to stock.

“Best of all,” George said, “no one has asked me why I want to do this. They just welcomed me. And no one has asked me what to do about some strange pain in their left knee!”

I wish I could say that Bob the Retirement Counselor for Old Guys can always produce such quick, positive results. I wish that all retirees were as full of determination as George. I’m sorry that the total audience for “The Price Is Right” just got reduced by one former doctor.

But I’m glad to have been part of the oldest saw of all. We can all give something. It’s never too late.

Bob Levey is a national award-winning columnist.