Unlike many (most) of my friends, I'm willing to admit that I'm solidly middle-aged. Assuming a lifespan of 80-100, I'm dead smack in the middle. That's ok. I don't mind (just as I don't mind that I have great-nieces). But for some reason my friends do. It's part of that Cult of Eternal Youth and it's not the healthiest place to be mentally. I'm not suggesting that we should all go into agony over how our lives are half-lived, or half-over, but let's not pretend we're still young!
Last week Thing One and I celebrated our 20th anniversary by going to dinner and then a concert. That's one way you start to feel old: when you work in a school and none of the students has heard of Marianne Faithfull. Another way? When you're one of the youngest at a concert! Ok, it was a short (1hr 15min) concert, and in a small venue, but still... I was certainly one of the few in their 40s. You can't tell me that the over 50 crowd is better at a midweek event than the under 50. I also learned that she has a huge gay/lesbian following (at least in NYC). It was a good concert, for all the lack of youth-filled audience, and it was the first time I'd seen her live. I made Thing One buy me a copy of Blazing Away, and I'm currently torturing my Summer Workers with it (lucky for them they're only students - the things they'll learn from me!)
My bloglines posts seem to be filled with age-related stuff. For example, over at Done with Mirrors, there was a thread started about people you've shared part of a lifespan with. Not the obvious, but those that died or were really famous but became obscure during your life - those that you're surprised to find out you were alive (not not necessarily aware of) at the same time they were. For me, it's C.S. Lewis. There's no way I would have been aware of him during the time we shared on earth together, and I was way too young to have noticed his death. But still... for a little while, we shared this planet. The follow-up post was about places you've been/things you've done (like flying B.O.A.C) that are somehow iconic and gone. (There was also a great post about the 40th anniversary issue of Rolling Stone, to tie this all back to Ms. Faithfull).
For a musical trip down memory lane, there's this site, listing the #1 song on this date in history. (þ: Library Garden) We won't talk about the "hit" when I was born. Sigh. Some times, it's better not to look at history.
The biblioblogosphere is abuzz (I'd say atwitter but that's got implications now) about Michael Gorman's comments on social software and Web 2.0, mostly taking the He Doesn't Get It view (of course, Mr. Gorman doesn't help himself out any, either). But I feel old when I'm told I'm a "digital immigrant", that I don't Get It, simply because I'm choosing. That's part of growing older: making choices about what fits, what doesn't. It means practicing - if necessary - or opting not to.
And finally, the Free Range Librarian posted about Boomer Texting.
BRBGTP... TTYL, mes amis.