Six or eight years ago, I picked up my youngest son at the airport as he had flown home from college for Spring break. I cheerfully conveyed to him that his parents were leaving town for the weekend to attend a Maroon 5 concert in Vancouver, B.C. He paused and then sullenly replied that we’d be the oldest ones there. (As it turned out, that was not true; there were many people in our age group, most of them grandparents, shepherding wide-eyed pre-teens to the event.) Our son was noticeably relieved that the concert was outside U.S. borders; it was unlikely we’d be seen by any of his friends.
I’m unapologetic about my taste in music. I dislike hard rock and heavy metal; “easy listening” bores me to tears; and disco is repeatedly rhythmic with no discernable melody. But I stayed on my feet for most of a recent Bruno Mars concert, and I almost swooned (suppressed only because I knew it would be creepy) seeing Shawn Mendez live.
I’m not exactly a technology rock star, but I have far less resistance to it than I did twenty years ago. I deposit checks with my bank’s cell phone app, reimburse family members with Venmo, and hail a ride with Uber or Lyft apps. I communicate with my children almost exclusively through WhatsApp, and I prefer talking to doctors or insurance companies through web-based portals than phone calls.
Cross-Fit is not my idea of a fun workout, but aerobic exercise at least five or six days a week, with a couple of walking days thrown in, suits me just fine. Relaxing by a swimming pool or standing in the buffet line on a cruise ship for vacation appalls me. I love robust biking or vigorous walking or hiking on holiday, and I maintain a childlike appreciation for foreign travel.
I’m vaguely aware that retirement is somewhere on the horizon, mostly due to the incessant questions about it from my friends and peers. I hope to have my encore career, writing and life coaching, fully launched by that time. Sleeping late, playing cards, drinking cocktails, and tour bus travel hold little appeal for me.
There is a body of evidence that people who feel younger than their chronological age have fewer signs of brain aging on MRI scans, perform better on memory tests, and are less likely to feel depressed. Those who experience youthfulness gravitate towards lifestyles that include exercise, healthy diets, engagement, and purpose – all of which aid mental and physical fitness. I remind myself to listen to, and appreciate, the beliefs of Millennials even if they are at odds with truisms I’ve held for decades.
I’ve heard complaints from younger folks about people who “try to act young,” as though youthfulness is something pried from a miserly grasp at a certain age. Thoughtful middle-agers simply smile and understand that the complainers will be at the other end of that remark in the future. But I’m always irritated by that comment, which evidences a certain level of immaturity on my part.
Come to think of it, I’ll take immaturity as further evidence that I’m not old.