![]() ![]() We were so young, I felt, and why should we waste that youth focused on what was already behind us? After all, right at that moment we were the youngest we would ever be. In my 20s and 30s, friends would casually toss around the phrase “We’re so old!” I rolled my eyes. The geezer jokes and “lying about your age” punchlines that adorned the mugs and t-shirts there seemed to come from another world, one that didn’t make sense to me. I mean, my grandparents didn’t listen to my music or play Nintendo with me, but they were cool in their own way - not crusty and out of touch like the caricatures suggested. ![]() At Spencer’s, a novelty store at the Galleria Mall in White Plains where my friends and I would find gag gifts, I was always perplexed by the section of “Over the Hill” merchandise. Likewise, I never quite understood the popular antipathy toward old age. It seemed glamorous and exciting to be an adult. I remember going to the city with my dad to see plays or go to the Met and seeing a group of women having lunch in a café. ![]() Each year that passed marked one step closer to adulthood, which for me meant independence and freedom. When I was a kid, growing older felt like an achievement. It wasn’t a “big” birthday - one of those round-numbered ones that feels like a milestone - but nevertheless it got me thinking about aging. This post is part of TED’s “How to Be a Better Human” series, each of which contains a piece of helpful advice from people in the TED community browse through all the posts here. ![]()
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