He said
Apparently, I'm very old for my age.
I've seen people get worried turning 20, or turning 25 or 40. That's never bothered me, and it's never made any sense to me about why people have these preoccupations with age.
My older sister seems to finally have come to terms with having a birthday every year. She didn't like 20, but of course she loved 19. I think she started to accept things when she turned 25. She didn't seem to look quite so ill at the thought of it. Now I think I recall her saying something along the lines of, "I guess 30 isn't so bad." That's how you know you're getting old, Kennedy. She's now 26.
I'm comfortable at 24. My youthful counterpart will surely tell you that I am old. In fact she told that right to my face. It sounds like there are those younger than her however, who feel she is old. Oh, the ignorant bliss of youth.
I have some fairly active grandparents, who are certainly getting pretty long in the tooth (an expression that they probably know well), but I don't necessarily consider them old. Age is funny. I have aunts and uncles who are married and have children, which is something old people do, but they still look like they have a good time.
Kids bring a new set of responsibilities, but they definitely still are able to head out to the bar with some friends and have a good time. They even like new pop and hip-hop music, so they're actually more in tune with today's music scene than I am.
They are in their 40s, but they still find a way to keep it together, so that can't be old.
My parents are in another boat: late 40s and early 50s. They maybe seem older than the aunts and uncles, but they appear to be aging gracefully enough. They're both still regularly active: my old man is shooting the lowest golf rounds of his life and continues to play goal three times a week throughout the winter. My mom still dances, I think, and is always on the move with her father.
With grandfathers both in their 70s, you might think there was someone in my family I find old. You would be wrong. One works voraciously in his barn on cars and gadgets, and the other walks for an hour every day, plays in a band and still loves double ryes when we play cards.
Maybe I'm just lucky to have such a youthful family that they've warped my idea of what being old is.
My grandfather always says getting older is better than the alternative, which isn't really the most optimistic way to look at it, but OK, I agree with him.
She said
I'm going to take the politically correct route and say that age is a personal thing, and that one isn't old until one feels old.
With that in mind, I'm currently feeling that 20 is really old. Generally, I love my birthday. I usually tell people several weeks in advance and try to spread the festive birthday spirit. This year - this disgusting milestone year - is terrifying. I'm preparing to take almost any evasive measure to avoid turning 20. My current scheme is to leave the country, (I'll be visiting friends in St. Charles, Missouri that weekend) and pretend to turn 21 while in the States. Upon returning to Canada, I will still only be 19, having never acknowledged my 20th birthday, thus avoiding my two-decade crisis. I'll also probably take my birthday off Facebook for a while, because everyone knows that if it doesn't happen on Facebook, it isn't real life.
Realistically, 20 isn't going to be any different than 19. It won't come with a lot more responsibility. I won't suddenly be out in the world, fending for myself in a battle against the elements. I'll just be a year older, still in university, still wildly irresponsible. I don't feel old, and I won't start behaving like a 45-year-old woman just because I'm not a teen anymore. But it definitely feels like an ending of a point in my life, and I feel pretty righteous in sulking about it.
There are plenty of adult examples in my life who have never let age slow them down. My maternal great-grandma still lives alone, mows her own lawn and plants a garden, and she's well into her 90s. My Grandpa Tom still enjoys a couple of drinks when playing cards, and a whip around the lake on the snow machines during winter and he's, well, he's older than 20.
I think we all stigmatize some age in our lives, or maybe more than one. For me, right now my problem is 20. Another common old age is 40. And in perspective, 40 still seems young when compared with 70, 80 and 90. It's just the sadness of losing the ties associated with being 19, or being 39. I'm feeling old because, though my responsibilities aren't going to change right away, I'm one step closer to adulthood and all that it entails. That makes me feel old, considering I can clearly remember doing crafts at the Rusty Duce playpark as a child, going to kindergarten and my first day of Grade 9. These aren't the memories of an old person, but on October 8, they're sure going to feel like they are.
