How Old Are You?

It seems like a simple, mathematical equation to me - but I keep being told that I'm wrong about it.

In figuring out where I think that "middle age" begins and ends, it seems to me that, well, it should be in the middle of an expected lifespan. Assuming that you'll have thirds labeled "young," "middle aged," and "senior citizen," you'd take an expected lifespan and divide it into 3 parts. Obviously, there are other divisions in those thirds - everything from newborn, infant, toddler to teen to retiree. Still, if you have 3 major categories - young, middle, old - you have 3 equal parts. Follow me so far?

So, I decided on a projected lifespan of 90. It's in most genetic ballparks, and divides easily in thirds. Therefore, my divisions go: young, 0 to 30; middle aged, 30 to 60; and senior citizen, old person, however you want to label the final third, 60 to 90.

I started referring to myself as "middle aged" at 30.

People are routinely horrified by this.

Fairly typical is the conversation I had with friends; a small group, all in their early 30s. They looked at me as though I had just advocated human sacrifice in order to have a plentiful harvest. "NO," one said. "NO. I am young!"

"Well, where does middle age start?" I asked. They were fairly universal in their answer: "40."

"To what?" I wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"If it starts at 40, where does it end? It can't just be the one year."

This resulted in a bit of hemming and hawing, but the consensus seemed to be, "Retirement age?"

Well, that's pretty vague. The American Association of Retired Persons accepts members as soon as they've hit their 50th birthday. In my dad's day, 55 was the standard retirement age. That age is now 65. I have a friend who just retired at 54, but went on to take a new job, hoping to retire from it in 25 or 30 years.

"So, you figure people will live as long after they're retired as they did before they hit middle age? You figure that the average lifespan is over 100?" Even this question leaves out the problem of assuming that "middle age" is a shorter time period than youth or old age. If any period were to be disproportionately small, it would be youth. Babyhood, childhood, adolescence, young adulthood are all very short periods of time. It seems to me that the middle, where people do most of their living, working, marrying, raising children, would be the largest portion if life were divided unevenly.

Think about movies, books, any story: you have a beginning, where you meet the characters and set up the situations. You have an end where the story gets wrapped up. Where does most of the action take place? In the middle. If the life divisions are unequal, the middle should not be the smallest.

I pointed that out - a 40 year portion and a 15 year portion and a, what, 20 year portion does not work.

Now the group went from finding me odd to taking offense. Ignoring the mathematical proportions, people fell back on insisting, "There's no way that 30 is middle age!"

The problem here is how people feel about the words "middle age." Many people consider them to be synonymous with unattractive, clueless about fashion, music, and popular culture, boring, and losing their health. This is not the case - this has never been the definition of this term. It means just what it says, the center part of your life.

This aversion to the term, as though it means something negative, reminds me of people's reactions when I use the word "fat" to describe myself. They either say, "Oh, you're not fat!" or, "You're not that fat." Listen, folks, "fat" is not a value judgement. It does not mean lazy, gluttonous, unattractive, or anything else except having an abundance of fat cells. I certainly have them. This does not indicate anything negative about me, any more than my hair color does. When I use the word to describe myself, it doesn't mean that I'm unhappy, or have low self esteem. (It certainly does not mean that I want you to disagree with me.)

"Old" is not a derogatory term, either. I spent most of my younger years saying, "I have no patience with people who feel 'old' at anything less than 70." My dad was 56 when I was born. I learned to spell "retired" in first grade. The idea that old is bad, and that "old" will always be older than you are, annoys me, deeply.

My kids, though, started calling me "old" when I was in my 30s. And not just me; one of my daughters once reduced a dinner party to laughter by referring to a photo of a bikini clad model as "that old lady." I was never ruffled; I claimed it. (I never had a problem being called "ma'am," either.) Keep in mind, when I was 35, I had a 14 year old and a 15 year old, and they were certain that I was ancient and out of touch, with no relevant experience or perspective. If they wanted to call me "old," I'd take it. I'll wear that title, proudly.

The alternative to being old is dying young; never my life's goal.

For years, any time I'd say, "my grandnephew," my son would say, "Who?" I'd say, again, "Andrew. His mother is my niece." And my son would say, "Geez, you're old!" ruffled by the thought that I had a "grand-" anything.

I once had someone pull me aside after I'd said something like, "Well, you know, when you get to be my age," to inform me that I was upsetting another woman in the group. "She's the same age you are, and she doesn't feel old." SIGH. If she's my age, she should be old enough to know that she's not a kid anymore, and that's a good thing. Good heavens, who would ever want to spend their life trapped in adolescence? Adolescents are a stew of hormones, lack of perspective, and angst. It's not their "fault," or a fault at all, but it is a biological and sociological fact, and I would never want to spend any longer than biology dictated that I had to  spend in adolescence.

This is why I do not understand the (fairly new) belief, held by a significant number of people, that "adolescence lasts until you're 30." Oh, good gravy, no. It does not and should not.

One of my dearest friends insists, "No one under the age of 30 should make any important or lasting decisions. They're just not ready." I am not the target audience for this idea. I think that too many people are irresponsible and immature long past when biology would be an excuse. I am, of course, aware that our brains are not done forming until roughly age 25, but that's exactly why I think that mature, responsible behavior should be routine by then. It makes no sense to assume that a person will become more capable and responsible by encouraging prolonged adolescence. We're aware that toddlers do not have fully functioning brains or nervous systems, but we start expecting them to use the toilet, take turns, wait, and other unnatural, uncomfortable things while they're toddlers. We don't say, "Oh, well, this is too tough for them - we'll wait until they're older and more mature. Then it won't be such a struggle." We are aware that the individual and society both benefit if they learn those skills precisely when it is difficult and unnatural.

I've been told that it's futile to expect young adults - let's say 18 to 30 - to be mature, that it puts "too much pressure" on them, and will cause psychological problems. I don't think so. I became very annoyed during the 2014 Winter Olympics, when skier David Wise was described by an announcer as having "an alternative lifestyle" for being married and a father in his 20s. I wrote this: "I mean, if you heard that someone wasn't walking, or reading, or driving, or holding a job, far (in fact, years) past the age that they should be mentally and physically capable, do you think, 'Everyone else should slow down and do it the same way, instead of trying to achieve,' or do you think, 'They should get some pretty intensive counseling and intervention in order to catch up'? In theory, a healthy 5 year old who still crawled everywhere would just be exercising prudence, right, taking all those extra years to mature? Maybe he'll fall less often when he does start walking, right?" ("The Example of an Olympian")

Seriously, how is it that we think that people are mature enough to drive, vote, join the military and go to war, buy a gun, consume alcohol, teach school, be an attorney or a doctor in their 20s, but NOT mature enough to get married or have children?

This is usually when someone says to me (either seriously or facetiously), "Well, we can't all be you." I got married at 20, had 2 babies in the next 2 years, had my first mortgage at 21. I do not think that everyone should be me, but neither do I think that everyone should fear and avoid responsibility, either. Everyone should have the choice to do what I did. I could have studied law, or medicine, or painting, or sculpting, but I didn't - not because I wasn't capable, or mature, but because that wasn't what I wanted to do. If I'd said, "Oh, geez, I really want to be a lawyer, I still hope that I can be a lawyer one day, but I'm just not capable of handling the study and the rigor and the expectations yet! I'll continue doing the same things I did as a kid, in the hopes that, in the future, I'll feel differently and therefore act differently," well, people would have had really choice and unflattering things to say to (and about) me. But when you switch the word "lawyer" for "spouse" or "parent," so many people say, "Good for you! That's the way it should be!" NO. If you decide not to do any particular thing, that's good, that's OK. You should have the option of choosing between many different paths. If you are just not mature yet, well, you'd better be working hard on maturing, and not just counting on maturity to show up because you've waited a long time. If you don't trust your own judgement, that's also an issue.

 I mean, it doesn't seem to me to be a difficult concept, the idea that everyone should be mature enough to make any available choice, not that they should be forced into a single choice - but people frequently tell me that I'm saying that kids should limit themselves. On the contrary - I want them to expand their idea of the available choices. Instead, they hear from society that, for instance, getting married and having a family will ruin their lives and kill their education. That makes no sense to me. I know so very many people like my friend J, who just graduated from medical school and passed his board exams at 30, (after serving a 2 year church mission at 19), while his wife is expecting their third child.

One of my children has been telling me since she was a teen that "nobody is ready to choose a spouse in their teens and early 20s," and "everyone feels like a kid at least into their 30s." Yet, she married someone she met at 19, and dated exclusively, from that time. (She says they've been "officially" together since she was 20.) I find the attitude of, "do as I say, not as I do," and "most people aren't able to do this, but I was," to be far more puzzling and troubling than my stance of, "I'm not that special; this isn't that difficult."

It also annoys me when people say, "Sure, I chose my spouse/school/profession then, but I didn't really commit to them/it for years" as though that's a good thing. I also get very tired of, "Oh, I'm glad I didn't: 1: marry my first boy/girlfriend, 2. keep my first major, 3. stay in my first profession" as a way to negate the idea that young people should be capable of big decisions. Whether or not the average human should be capable of maturity and whether or not you personally adjusted your course are not the same thing.

Neither is the simple math indicating how long you've been alive a negative judgement.

My oldest child turned 30 last year; my second turns 30 this year. Yes, I consider them to be middle aged. Yes, they disagree with me, just like they did when they turned 18 and I referred to them as adults. That doesn't change the fact that, statistically, the first third of their lives are over. And that assumes a lifespan of 90, and I haven't yet found anyone in our family tree who's made it to 90. 80 would be a more accurate prediction, I think. I, personally, am past the age at which AARP will take me as a member, closing in on that last third of my life, and I do not find this to be a negative or worrisome thing.

"Middle aged" and/or "old" does not mean irrelevant, clueless, in poor health, unattractive, one foot in the grave, or anything else negative! It means that you have experience and perspective. Embrace it! I never realized how truly youth obsessed our current culture is until I started watching the mere words cause panic. It's logic. It's math. And it's OK! Really.

A Love Letter to Jason Segel

Dear Jason,

I have loved watching you since "Freaks and Geeks," a show that, obviously, resonates with all current and former freaks and geeks. When I was in high school, we in the theater department referred to ourselves as "freaks" with pride. I'd arguably been a geek - smart but awkward - since early childhood.

But, before I enjoyed watching your work - indeed, before you were born - I loved the Muppets. It is not possible to overstate how much I love the Muppets, how much I love anything created by Jim Henson. The vastly underappreciated film "The Dark Crystal," anything born in the Creature Shop - I love them all.

"When I was eight years old, I discovered the Muppets. I came across Sesame Street on TV, and was delighted, even though I was years older than their intended audience. It was the beginning of a lifelong love affair with all things created by Jim Henson.

I was too old for the instruction on letter sounds and such, but I was captivated by the wittiness of the segments. Since I had a much older brother and sister and had listened to their music, when I heard a Muppet sing, "Letter B," I knew it was derived from a Beatles hit. It was charming and funny, and I felt very much "in" on a secret, since I was sure that preschoolers wouldn't know the original. Anyone who's watched any Sesame Street knows how often those moments crop up.

The musical segments were probably my favorites, but close behind came Kermit the Frog's roving reporter. As he'd show up with his news cap and microphone to report on fairy tales, something always went wrong, and he'd come unraveled. The poor hapless diner always ending up at a table served by Grover had my sympathy. And I felt for Big Bird back in the days when he was the only one of the gang to see Mr. Snuffleupagus.

The idealized neighborhood really appealed to me as well. I've always thought that reality should look something like that – everyone knew and liked everyone else (well, OK, everyone except Oscar), no one cared how old you were or what color or what species. Nobody cared about how much money you had, or what you wore or anything else superficial. And occasionally, everyone would break into a beautifully choreographed song and dance number. It was grand."(from the essay "Come on Down! You're the Next Contestant!")

"The Muppet Movie" and "The Muppet Show" spoke to me, a kid in the theater department, in even more ways.

The fact that I was in the theater department was nothing that I had ever anticipated. In sixth grade, my first year in middle school, I wanted to take art. I had always felt like an artist. My mom and I spent hours on crafts. But, my school wouldn't let sixth graders decide on a single elective; we had to take a class that gave us a single grading period of a number of electives - art, theater, choir, foreign language - so we could try them all out before we chose. At the time, I thought it was ridiculous. Ever since, I've been very glad.

I wanted to be invisible, unnoticed, anonymous as a child. A stage was the last thing I sought. I discovered a few things in that single grading period of theater: a stage wasn't an entirely terrifying place to be, there were jobs besides being onstage, and all of it was as close to actual magic as it's possible to get.

At the end of the year, I stared at the class signups for the next year for a long time - then I signed up for theater. I was never again without a theater class, for the rest of my years in school.

The idea of enthusiastic, scruffy misfits putting on a show spoke to me. And the wit level was off the charts. ("I'm on my way to New York to break into public television." "They don't look like Presbyterians to me.")

It was a great perk that it seemed like everybody wanted to work with the Muppets, between Sesame Street segments, film cameos and weekly TV guest stars.

When I had children, they started watching Sesame Street from pretty much the very start of their lives. OK, actually, they joined me in watching.

Then, the terrible thing happened; Jim died. I was an adult - I had a husband, a mortgage, two children, and I was just undone. You have no idea, Jason; I was beyond devastated. My dad was 56 on the day I was born - I was not prepared for otherwise healthy people to die in their 50s, except maybe in some kind of crash.

His funeral was televised, but I couldn't watch it. I knew the basics - the public was invited, bright colors were encouraged, paper butterflies flown, Harry Belafonte sang - but I was unable to face it. I was unreasonably angry that Big Bird sang "Rainbow Connection." It was Kermit's song, and I could not face hearing anyone else sing it.

(It took me twenty years to be able to watch the funeral. It was just beautiful; I still cried all the way through.)

Aside from the pain of losing Jim, and losing all of the projects he would have developed, I feared losing all of his characters - Kermit, Ernie, Dr. Teeth, The Swedish Chef, Rowlf... I could not handle the thought of losing them all. But, as Frank Oz told a reporter who asked (rather indelicately, I thought), "Can you imagine being Bert to anyone else as Ernie?", he could not imagine it.

Some time afterward - long enough that I was sure they'd run out of pre-death footage, but soon enough that my nerves were still raw - I burst into tears during Sesame Street. For the first time since Jim's death, there was new footage with Ernie. It was a huge crowd scene, and all Ernie did was sing and dance on the back row, but it undid me.

My children, like most children, were fairly oblivious to anything that did not directly involve them, but this, they noticed. "What's wrong, Mom? Are you OK?" I couldn't tell them that seeing Ernie made me cry. I forget what I did say.

When "A Muppet Christmas Carol" came out, I was skeptical. Aside from Luke 2, "A Christmas Carol" is my favorite Christmas story, so I've rarely met an incarnation that I didn't embrace, but this would be the first production of any kind with the new voice of Kermit. I wasn't sure if I should be delighted that we still had him, or angry that it wouldn't be the same. It would be the first film undertaken without Jim; would the magic remain?

When I realized, midway through the film, that I had spent a full 15 minutes just watching, without comparing Steve Whitmire to Jim, I knew it would be OK.

And it was.

"Muppets Tonight" was fun - and who doesn't love Pepe? - but it didn't seem to grab the population the way the original show did.

Then, the Muppets all but disappeared. Fewer people understood why I'd respond to, "It's a myth" with, "Yeth?"

You know this, Jason. Because this is where you come in.

I was a bit leery about "The Muppets." The setup didn't entirely delight me; I'd preferred to think of the gang as doing dinner shows at a beach resort somewhere, or doing nightly cruise ship shows, not as broken up. And, let's face it, you and Walter do not look like brothers.

It was probably about the time you sang, "Yes, it is!" instead of coming up with an obscure rhyme for "fish" that I was hooked. It was witty. It was heartfelt. It was earnest. (As an aside -  I live in Reno, I recognized the casino exterior used as Fozzie's employer, and I'm OK with good fun poked at my city. We even took visiting family out to dinner, saying, "This is the casino from 'The Muppets!'") It had a fantastic cast and great cameos. I even enjoyed the fun poked at the fact that all of their celebrity fans were from years past. (I mean, Mummenshanz, anyone?) And who doesn't love Amy Adams?

I cried, Jason. I just bawled. If I hadn't already been weepy, the photo of Jim hanging on the wall would have done it.

(When you sang, "Am I a Man, Or Am I a Muppet?" I knew what my answer would be - for myself, I would answer, "Muppet.")

That wasn't even the best part. Do you know what was? The Muppets were COOL again, and they were everywhere. Yes, occasionally they're a little too self consciously hip - look at us, we can make drug, sex and alcohol references! Seriously, they never needed anything more than a little nudge and wink, so I hope the whole "it's a new century, we can push those boundaries" thing doesn't overwhelm them. Because they're still funny, still dorky, still bickering and still family.

The fact that they're on commercials, on newscasts, making guest appearances - THAT'S the best part, Jason. You made them cool again. You could lose your mind from here on out, your career could tank, and I'd still have a warm spot in my heart for you. Yes, because your work is good, Jason. But also, because you gave the Muppets back to me. It's no small thing.

It's always time to play the music. It's always time to light the lights. For the lovers, the dreamers, and me.

Thanks,
Sharon