I passed the three-quarters-of-a-century mark a few years ago. Yet instead of doddering into old age, I often find myself spending time with people who are two, three or even four decades younger than I am.

Why?

For one thing, many friends my age have passed away, especially classmates—some who were younger than I. I still enjoy friends with more life experience than mine, and it’s great to hang out with them, though different than being with my 30-something friends.

Wherever I go, I see people my age shuffling along, stooped over, walking with canes or carrying gallon bags of medications. I thank God that I can still walk miles, dance ballroom without falling and take road trips that wear out most people my age.  

To me, younger people are interesting. They don’t sit around talking about hernia operations or a relative’s funeral. They tell me about their latest trip to a Vegas show featuring pop singers. We discuss everything from metaphysics to technology, heartaches and heartbreaks. They don’t seem to mind an older woman tagging along—or even instigating an adventure.

They teach me the latest slang, which I don’t use but find fascinating. They introduce me to new things to do and different ways to think. They seldom gossip, talking more about ideas and events than people. Since I don’t have children, long stories about grandchildren don’t hold much meaning for me. With younger friends, that’s a nonissue.

My younger friends sometimes ask for my advice or seek my knowledge about things they were born too late to know much about: the Vietnam War; the hippie culture of the 1960s; trends in education and music; and happenings that feel like ancient history to them.

But it’s a two-way street.

A British friend keeps me informed about past and current culture in her home country, including British slang. “Twee” means something that tries too hard to be adorable or charming. When things are great, they’re “tickety-boo.” To “crack on” means to start, or get back to, the task at hand.

Another friend gives me personal insight into the drug culture and how some people find and use illegal drugs nowadays. That knowledge may come in handy if I ever write a novel or short story about the darker side of our culture.

And Jose, bless his heart, showed me why Latin men make superb lovers!

I find my younger friends are often more tolerant. They don’t talk about old grudges and don’t look for reasons to be offended. They don’t live in the past; the good ol’ days are what they’re living now, even if they don’t realize it yet. Someday, they may sit around reminiscing. I’m pretty sure I’ll have to miss that party.

Mostly, spending time with younger people keeps me young. That’s a good thing. A really good thing.  

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