I’m You in 2065
To improve your karma in the meantime, consider this…
I’m not old — I’m evolved.
I’m not old — I’m seasoned.
I’m not old — I’m distinguished.
I’m not old — I’m…
Okay, screw it. I’m old. Wrinkly, age-spotted, baggy-eyed…old. And none of the euphemistic bullshit found in Hallmark Cards will change it.
But what you may not understand, Kayla and Mia, Noah and Zach, is that old doesn’t mean done. In fact, even in the age of Covid, more people are living to 100 than ever before. And the best of us are evolving, too, just like you.
Believe it or not, we still fall in and out of love. And don’t begrudge us for getting laid every once in awhile either.
More than anything, you may notice that most folks my age, quietly or loudly, have some very definite opinions. These have been shaped by making it farther in life than everyone else.
So when some young buck challenges me on something I find insanely obvious, like whether getting vaccinated is one’s civic duty, which it surely is, you’ll kindly excuse me for losing my shit for a moment…maybe two.
(Serotonin levels do decrease with age, after all).
To accept and get along with old bastards like me in these sensitive times — or at any time — please consider the tips below.
1) See our Souls, Not Our Bodies
I don’t care how hairy my ears are. I don’t give a damn that my balls practically droop to my ankles. I’m still just Jack inside my head, looking out at the world with the same curiosity and hope, cynicism and regret.
Sometimes I’m Jack the 39-year-old editor who freaked out learning his wife was expecting twins. Other times, I’m freewheeling, 25-year-old Jack, who’d walk 10 blocks out of his way for a late-night slice of pizza, then amble home to drunk-dial the woman he met over pinball at a bar an hour earlier.
My point? The soul does not follow the laws of time. Deep down, we older folks tend to be collections of ourselves at various ages, like greatest hits albums. That’s why a sudden reflection of myself in a storefront window might fool me for a millisecond. Who the hell is that old f*ck staring back at me?
But John Lennon, boy, he captured it best:
I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll…
Timelessness.
Recognize our spirits, our humanity. Next time you see an old lady pushing her walker into Walgreens, why not smile or at least make a comment about the damn weather? Don’t be weird about it. Just show that you know someone’s still in there, someone not so different from yourself.
2) Respect Our Grit
Okay, maybe we’re sponging off our kids. Or boring the bejesus out of you about our glory days running a metal pipe factory. Or bitching yet again about the goddamn noise in the restaurant.
And perhaps you feel repelled by the ailments we peck over like pigeons on half-eaten bagels.
But I’ll tell you what: we’re warriors.
“Eighty-percent of adults 65 and older have at least one chronic condition, while 68% have two or more,” according to the National Council on Aging. These include kidney disease, heart failure, diabetes, depression, Alzheimer’s, and more.
Let me assure you: peeing blood doesn’t feel better at 75 than it would at 20.
And that shit is scary.
(By the way, I learned my lesson not to pay visits to Dr. Google. These days, when I’m diagnosed with something new, I just take the damn brochure from the nurse and get on with things. No Web searching. Fear sticks to my ribs, and Xanax is hard to come by here in Hong Kong).
Don’t feel sorry for us, though. Really. My times in oncologists’ waiting rooms have revealed far too many — and I mean far too many — younger people. Talk about a dose of perspective.
Still, at my age, you can’t deny the oncoming train has entered the tunnel. Perhaps you go peacefully in your sleep two presidential terms from now, if you’re lucky. Or maybe tumors eat through your stomach, and you’re gone by next spring. In the meantime, your fading wife has been mistaking you for her high school sweetheart, and your savings are running thin.
Appreciate the fortitude and courage that old age demands. Treat us accordingly.
3) Realize You’re Not the First
LeBron James is sensational and likely belongs on basketball’s Mt. Rushmore. But Wilt Chamberlain could’ve clobbered both him and Kevin Durant on their way to the hoop while putting up 60 on their asses.
Don’t fool yourself that today’s superstars are any more special than those of yesteryear.
And let’s get real about “influencers” (jeez) and “thought leaders.”
A long list of folks —Audrey Hepburn, Jackie O, Diana Ross, David Ogilvy, Andrew Young, Peter Drucker, Betty Friedan, Harvey Milk, and on and on — broke the ground that current tastemakers and mavens (mostly self-anointed) stand upon.
And of course, those earlier figures stood on the shoulders of others before them.
Which is all to say, if you think today’s technology or merely the special sauce of “now” renders you and other Millennials (and Gen Z’s) more original and exceptional, more clever and classless and free, then I have a bridge in China to sell you.
Okay, boomer?
More like: Get outa here, milly!
Ah, but not really. Most of us geezers, if any nurture-instinct remains, adore hearing stories from people in their 20’s and 30’s. Constant tech-driven disruptions of work, commerce, and social life make what you share especially engaging. We’re flattered you care to inform us. We enjoy your enthusiasm. We don’t necessarily think you’re happier or better off than we were. But we want as badly to cheer you on as you want to feel in full bloom, at the top of your game.
By all means, brag about the algorithm you built for that shipping company. Swell with pride describing how it adapts prices to costs in monsoon season. Just remember that prescriptive analytics to you must feel exactly how predictive analytics felt to me 30 years ago, working in banking when credit scoring emerged. One has been built upon the other.
Human progress is ongoing. But human nature stays the same, as do the core principles of most human endeavors.
You’re not the first to speak out against racial injustice. You’re not the first to hate chain restaurants. You’re not the first to love classic diners. You’re not the first to eat avocado on toast. You’re not the first to grow an eccentric beard. You’re not the first to say “back in the day.” You’re not the first to have trouble buying a first house. You’re not the first to drink matcha tea. You’re not the first to fancy yourself a non-conformist by getting tattoos. You’re not the first to discover Chiang Mai or Austin or Bali.
Some things don’t really change. Except for, sadly, Chiang Mai, Austin, and Bali.
So it’s with great temerity that I make a humble request, insecure as it may sound. Speak to us old-timers like we might have already been there, done that. Even if we haven’t, most of us will love you for it.
Takeaways
- See past our physical traits. Realize that an elderly person’s self-image and soul are still closely tied their younger selves. Trying connecting with that timeless spirit, which is not so different from your own.
- Appreciate our toughness under the burden of illness, pain, and limitations. Recognize our courage in facing the end of life.
- Understand that much of what you and your generation value might not be as new or unique as it appears. Previous generations have also appreciated (and contributed to) what you may have just discovered. Convey this awareness in your conversations with elders.
