I arrived at the commercial drop-off location where I pick up our weekly bag of locally grown produce. I always enjoy a quick chat with Ulysses, the employee usually stationed behind the front desk, ready to hand out each subscriber's assortment.
“Hi there, Louise!” he said, looking up from his computer screen, greeting me with his usual smile, a sweet guy who’s always fun to joke with. A few weeks earlier, he told me he raises chickens and shares his abundance of eggs with fellow employees. A week or two later, I asked if he still had his eggs.
“Yes, I do,” he replied.
I thought for a moment, and then said, “Ulysses, it’s a good thing you’re a guy, given what I just asked.” He laughed, eyes twinkling, and handed me my bag.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the produce, “just give me a sec while I look inside to see what's new this week.”
I pulled out three dark purple, medium-sized eggplants lying beneath leafy celery, radishes, apples, mushrooms, assorted greens, and baby carrots.
“Ick,” I said. Will and I aren’t fans of eggplant! Ulysses, do you like eggplant?”
“Yes,” he replied, “I do!”
“Great, here you go,” I said, handing him (what Will and I consider) tasteless, spongy-textured teardrop-shaped fruit.” (Yes, it’s botanically classified as such because it grows from a flowering plant and contains seeds. Who knew? I didn’t!)
“I used to make ratatouille for my kids, years ago,” I said. “I guess I didn’t mind eggplant back then.”
“I LOVE RATATOUILLE!” Ulysses laughed.
“Oh, you do?” I asked.
“Yes, I wish there were a sequel!”
“What? A sequel?”
He laughed. “Oh, a sequel to the movie! I love that movie!” It occurred to me that Ulysses was likely unfamiliar with the cheesy tomato-and-eggplant Italian dish the Pixar movie was named after. Perhaps another ‘generation gap’ moment, I thought.
In London, where I lived with my British husband several years ago before he passed, I always enjoyed taking the Tube, England's rail system. When your train pulls into the station and the sliding doors slowly begin to open, you’ll hear, blasting over the loudspeaker—“MIND THE GAP!” It’s a reminder to stay alert as you step over the precarious space between the train and the platform.
I’m becoming increasingly mindful of the distinct gap widening between many of my generation’s references and those of people born ten, twenty, thirty, or forty years after us ‘boomers.’ Many years ago, I stopped asking, “Where were you when JFK was shot?”—something no one can forget— which for a long time would initiate an interesting conversation. When a young man replied, “I think my grandparents told me about that,” I struck it from my list of icebreakers. (I heard the news in my 8th-grade social studies class.)
These days, in our weekly Santa Fe Improv class, I often stumble across that generation gap. At one evening’s performance, Will and I stood in the ‘backline’ on stage, listening for a word from the audience to prompt one of us to step forward and start improvising.
We’re given movie titles, locations, emotions, articles of clothing, etc. That evening, the moderator asked the audience for a movie suggestion. Someone called out:
“CASABLANCA!”
“CASABLANCA,” we improvisers repeated in unison (as we’ve been trained).
Who could forget that classic movie, and the well-remembered scene when Ingrid Bergman urges the nightclub’s piano player, “Play it again, Sam!”
I stepped out of the line and sashayed over to Will, standing to my right near the end.
“SAM, WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP PLAYING IT AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN?” I implored. Will sprang forward and pantomimed playing the piano. We heard a few in the audience laugh, and then…crickets.
Other ‘gaps’ occur when I make dated references to cars (the Edsel—Ford’s ‘lemon’ in the late 50s), or troubleshooting old tech, like untangling a coiled wall-mounted phone cord.
Improv mates ranging from their 20s through their 40s...even those in their 50s— seem oblivious to the gaps they create with their contemporary jargon and references, tossing out trendy acronyms far more complex than “OMG, LOL, or ‘BTW.’ There’s BRB (be right back), TTYL (talk to you later). It’s hard to keep up.
Perhaps I was also presumptuous with my trendy lingo and equally oblivious to how I came across to older folks. I remember coming home from college and visiting with my mother and one of her friends in the living room.
After a while, I excused myself. “I’m gonna go crash.”
“CRASH?!” I heard from Mother’s friend as I left the room, sounding quite alarmed.
“Don’t worry,” Mother said, “she’s just going to take a nap.”
I’m becoming less shy about asking younger people to explain or repeat what they’ve just said. In Improv, they’re mostly patient and accommodating, though sometimes—whether they’re trying to or not—they can seem a bit patronizing. Sometimes this feels confusing and annoying. It’s hard to know when they’re being sincere, or just going through the motions.
It occurs to me that some generations have grown up with the internet, with less human interaction, and perhaps lacking sensitivity to subtle cues, like facial expressions and body language. I’ve taken for granted the skills we elders have honed through decades of ‘checking in’ to make sure our meaning is received, moments of engagement that can also create space for a little kindness.
A few years ago, I needed cash while standing at the supermarket checkout, paying for my groceries. Clerks usually have cash-back money on hand, but this young gal said her drawer was empty.
“Honey, do you need help using the ATM machine?” Helpful? Yes, but it also felt a bit insulting. Why was she calling me ‘honey,’ wondered my 70-something-year-old self. “Did I seem that much older, or so out of touch that I’m incapable of knowing how to use an ATM machine? The questions that arise from these awkward interactions can erode my self-confidence.
“Thanks, I can manage,” I replied. I’m fortunate to have been very independent for many years and, thanks to my son, (and according to younger friends), I’m pretty tech-savvy. I couldn’t help but wonder how someone who actually needed the help might have felt about the woman’s tone...At least I didn’t feel invisible.
It’s tricky. Sometimes it’s a welcome gesture when a younger person takes my arm to help me up a flight of stairs. Other times it feels a little embarrassing—are they assuming I’m feeble or inept, just because of my age?
These days, it’s hard to imagine children sitting at the feet of their elders, learning from—and valuing—their wisdom. Younger folks are so very distracted. They’re too busy texting, swiping, and hoping someone will ‘like’ them to look up, to listen, or to learn from people who have so much to share.
In my work as an intuitive spiritual counselor, I always encourage clients to become the observer of their thoughts, recurring patterns, and triggers carried forward from the past. Now, more than ever, I have to practice what I preach. What fears or concerns am I carrying and projecting outward about myself? We old(er) folks can be preoccupied with feelings and concerns about the many changes our physical selves are undergoing, or how we’re being seen. Given all that, am I making myself available to younger people?
Age graces us with enlightening perspectives we can share when we stop self-scrutinizing, focus on being ourselves, and embrace what’s real—wrinkles and all. With fewer futures to consider and worry about, and fewer mountains to climb, we’re freed to feel more alive and more present—a gift younger people respond to and happily receive.
I recently chatted with a woman who sat next to me at a restaurant. We’re close in age, and she lives in a small town in Alaska. I shared my thoughts about minding the gap between older and younger generations. She described how younger indigenous folks in her town revere seniors. They call her and other elder women Aaka (grandmother).
It takes practice to make friends with aging. When, as a new octogenarian, I feel dismissed or irrelevant, I return to center by letting in gratitude. I corral my many blessings and unique qualities that make me—me. This brings me to the present moment, and I’m back to occupying my true space in the Universe! This internal work grounds me and equips me to step not only mind the generational gap, but also to bridge it.
We all have so much to share and to learn from each other.
Illuminations welcomes and embraces you on your spiritual journey. Louise is here to serve by helping you make sense of this crazy world, showing you the way back to the Source, and nudging you toward your most fabulous, joyful future.