I’m on the metro coming home from a 9-5 day at work. I’m standing in the corner next to the doors listening to a podcast called “Startup.” In it, an entrepreneur named Alex Bloomberg tries to open up a podcast company. But in the particular segment I’m listening to, he is reading Shel Silverstein’s classic, “The Giving Tree” to his two young kids. He’s in the midst of a bunch of startup drama and pressure, and he says that as he reads the book this time, it resonates with him a lot more than when he was a kid.
Basically, the story is about a boy who loves a tree, and a tree who loves that boy. When the boy is a kid, he plays with the tree and they enjoy each others’ company. The boy starts to grow up, though, and comes back to visit the tree less and less. But when he does visit, the tree is extremely happy. Eventually, the boy begins to ask for different things every time he comes back and the book ends when the now down-and-out middle aged man asks for a boat to sail away. But the tree wants to make his boy happy, so he gives up his trunk. The podcast guy, Alex, is talking about growing up. But then…
As I’m listening, I get distracted by a group of four kids–two guys and two girls probably between 13 and 14 years old—who get on the metro and stand right next to me. They’re wearing matching uniforms and 3 out of 4 have one iPod ear piece in and the other one out.They laugh and from what I can pick up with my Chinese, they’re joking about each other. Just some friends on the way from school. But then comes a combo punch delivered by that podcast and these kids…
When did I become the old one?
In those kids’ eyes, it seems like I’m just one of the businesspeople heading home from a day of work. But in my eyes, I feel like I can relate more to that little group of four than to the 50 plus “older” people in that metro car. Without even knowing them, I feel that we have more things in common than I do with the others. We probably watched some of the same TV shows, played with similar toys, etc. when growing up. But then the metro’s window reflects my own image back at me, I see a guy with a collared shirt and khaki pants. I have a full beard. I’m listening to a podcast about starting a business. I’m almost closer to the age of 31 than I am to 11. I’m not really a kid anymore.
Remember when you were in kindergarten and the 2nd graders seemed so old and grown up? Or when you were in 8th grade and saw high school as finally going into the “real world?” Or when your older friends came home from college and seemed so much more cultured and mature? I always thought there’d come a time when I’d say, “Hey, I’m finally not just a kid. I’m all grown up now.”
Well, now as I’m heading into my senior year of college, I still don’t really feel that much different. There hasn’t really been any epiphany. Only moments like the one I just wrote about. And yes, I realize that relatively I am still young compared to a lot of people, but the point is that I’m almost at the age—if I’m not there already—that I can’t go a day without having something to do for school, work, or family. But it doesn’t feel that way.
So when will it finally hit me?
It’s funny when older people I know talk about the good old days of high school and about studying abroad or meeting all kinds of people in college. But it’s a little bit scary when I realize that next year, I’lI be past those perceived important times that everyone experiences when growing up. I watched “Animal House” not too long ago, and it still doesn’t feel like I’m the age of the guys in the movie. Whenever I watch college sports, pro sports, the Olympics, etc. I sometimes get a mini shock when I remember that some of those athletes aren’t only my age or a little bit older, a lot of them are actually younger. And on top of that, even my own little sister is moving out to go to college next year. How and when did that happen?
For the first time in my life, after this next year, I’ll have no definite in my future. School will be over, and yes I’ll probably get a job doing something. But I don’t know where, I don’t know when, and I don’t know what. And not knowing any of those answers is pretty liberating, I have to say. For now, though, I’m enjoying life every day, just like the kids standing next to me. I’m just a little bit older, and a little bit more mature.
So maybe that sudden realization of “getting older” never happens? Maybe it doesn’t have to ever happen if you don’t want it to? And maybe that’s why you have 55 year olds who sit on the couch every weekend, and others who play in bands, go skydiving, or even something like starting a company in a field completely unrelated to their past career. Because I don’t think defying your physical age has to mean that you go bungee-jumping every weekend, it just means that you chase new experiences until the time comes when you literally can’t get out of bed. It’s a decision that every day is as important as yesterday and tomorrow. And if you decide that up front, then what is an age?
Anyways, the kids ended up getting off at a station a few stops before me, and as it was rush hour, another guy and girl quickly took their places. But these two new neighbors were a little older. He was dressed in a suit and tie, and she was in a dress. Probably on their way home from work, like me.
And like the kids who had stepped off the metro just a few seconds before, these two were happy and smiling, too.
Stefano Montali 