We live in a community where many of our closest friends are well under 40 – several the ages of our sons. Because we are culturally united, age isn’t such a big deal, which is strange. I’ve always identified very strongly as a Baby Boomer. Born in the first year of the cohort, I cherish the experiences and adventures and acknowledge the shared rages and disappointments that bind us. Even so, I’m struggling with my place.
There’s a group of bloggers led by Ronni Bennett, a wonderful writer and observer, through her blog Time Goes By – and she’s working to build a community she terms "Elder Bloggers."
I hate it. Hate it. I admire Ronni; I’ve always been OK with where I stand in age and presence but this is tough. I can’t decide if I’m being immature and clinging to a world I don’t belong in or I just don’t have the same sensibility. I moved online in the early 90s, I read science fiction and love Harry Potter; I listen to all kinds of music; I cherish every experience. When my kids were little I often felt I had more in common with their teenage babysitters than with the parents of many of their friends.
It’s not that I deny my age — or my friends who are peers. Or my responsibilities. I’ve had a successful career raised great, honorable and capable kids. It’s that I cherish the energy, openness and curiosity of those whose lives are more ahead of them than behind. I remember maybe 20 years ago when a friend of mine was about to take her youngest son to college. Eyes welling up, she said something over lunch that day that still haunts me. "It used to be that everything in my life was about beginnings, now it seems that most of it is about endings." It was a devastating moment. I swore I would never feel like that.
It’s no battle really. It’s my nature to be curious — I have a short attention span and, as my blog header says, "There’s always more." Remaining open is easy. Realizing that it’s sometimes time to surrender some options is harder — even, or maybe especially, stupid ones like clothes. I have a "style." It took years to develop – not on purpose just by trial and error. Often, I was in the fashion moment. I went through the 80s in leggings and tunics and arm-loads of black rubber bracelets. Oh and Reebok high-tops and thick saggy socks. And that was at work!
One day though, you begin looking at those cool of-the-moment clothes with the thought "I wish I were young enough to wear those" instead of "wow how much is that one?" It’s never said out loud (or at least not by anyone you’d listen to) – you just kind of know it. A friend of mine with daughters says it happens to moms with girls much earlier because, as she put it "you don’t want to look like you’re competing.") I, however, resisted as long as I could, then surrendered (except for jewelry and shoes, of course.)
Music too. I was in the loop until hip hop, then got shoved pretty far into the margins. My kids send me music now – from Great Big Sea to Jack Johnson to Green Day and I’m grateful. But these days I don’t even know who many of the Top Ten folks are — and don’t care.
That doesn’t make me an elder though. Or a grown-up. Just a responsible adult, defined by nature and interests, not age. So Ronni – I’m with you with great admiration as you bring all of us together and continue to build the world’s coolest Boomer+ blogroll. But the title — the title — not for me my girl. At least……..not yet.
