The last bit of evidence arrived in the form of three binders of news clippings. Because all the submissions for the Livingston Awards have to come from reporters under the age of 35, looking at the dates of birth on the entry forms for the finalists was like a stroll through my own past.

This young man was born the year I graduated from college, that young woman just about the time I became a reporter at The New York Times, this one when I was covering city hall, that one when I was writing my first column.

Needless to say, this made me feel really old.

But my second response to reading over the stories was delight. They were so thoroughly reported, so well written. Whether local, national or international news, they were just what journalism ought to be. The next time anyone insists the business won't survive I may bash him with one of these binders, which are heavy with hope for the future.

They also made me think again about my own future. These clippings thoroughly ratified a decision I began to make a year or so ago, that has led me here, to my last LAST WORD column for NEWSWEEK.

The baby-boom generation has created an interesting conundrum for this country. Born between 1946 and 1964, boomers take up more room than any other generation in American history. They now account for about a quarter of the population. And so, inevitably, they have created a kind of bottleneck, in the work world, in politics, in power. The frustration this poses for the young and talented should be obvious. In my personal life it was reflected powerfully on the day when, talking of the unwillingness of my friends to retire, my eldest child noted, "You guys just won't go."

Let me assure you that this is a well-mannered and thoughtful person who shows all due deference to his elders. But his perspective is not uncommon among the so-called millennials, those in their 20s who constitute the baby boomlet, the children of the baby boom.

When my parents were my son's age, there was an orderliness to how one generation moved aside and another stepped up to primacy and prosperity. It was reflected in the actuarial charts: in 1952, the life expectancy of the average American male was 65, roughly 10 years younger than it is today.

Even when I was the same age as my children are now, there was a natural transition from one generation to another. Retirement at 65 was normative. Every year a small group of reporters would leave the newsroom, to be replaced by younger ones. (With the harsh insensitivity of youth, I thought this was perfectly fine.) In many businesses this rite of passage is disappearing, and the number of people who work past 65 has climbed steadily over the last two decades. This makes for a simple equation: fewer opportunities for the young to move in or move up.