Since last year, something strange has been happening to me. Younger people occasionally get up in a full train or bus to offer me a seat. It doesn’t happen every day, or even every week, but perhaps once a month, whereas before last year, it never happened.
Last year, I was gracious, but firmly declined any offers of seats, being secretly mortified that anyone would deem me less able to stand than them. This year, I’ve started to accept. Well, I’ve only been offered a seat once this year-that was this morning-and I was glad to have it. It was on a bus full of mostly students carrying us from the train station to campus, so there might have been something about respect for staff in it, too. Another student also offered the older, grey-haired but fit-looking lady standing beside me a seat. She graciously declined.
Is this the beginning of the end? I said to myself. Is this the beginning of the time when I begin to think of myself as “older” or no longer young, by any stretch of the imagination?
I know that people under 25 think anyone over 35 is ancient. In my (admittedly unscientific) questioning of young people, many have shown that they can’t recognise the difference between 40 and 60 or 50 and 70. They’re all just “old people”. My parents were quite a bit older than the norm when they had my brother, and when he was a mid-teenager and they were in their early 60s, one of his friends said, “How old’yer parents—about a hundred?”!
But who they perceive as being “young” is interesting and not necessarily about years. It seems to have something to do with “coolness”. I once asked a group of students, mostly aged 18-20, to decide whether a list of famous people I named were young or old. They had only those two choices, nothing in between.
I asked them about the then-Prime Minister of Australia, Kevin Rudd. “Old,” was the verdict. Then I asked them about the President of the US, Barack Obama, also in his 50s and less than four years Rudd’s junior. “Young,” they said emphatically. “Because he’s cool,” added one bright spark.
Perhaps I’m just not cool any more. *Sigh*
Coincidentally, this week’s Daily Post Writing Challenge is about ageing. You can read more here.
The Crayon Files 
I think you’re cool!
Hah! Thanks, dear Mr P.
I think you’re very cool!
Double thanks, Mr P.
Caron – I remember feeling that way the first time I bought some wine and wasn’t asked for my ID. Also the first time I was called ‘Ma’am’ and not ‘Miss.’ *sigh* But whether the young ‘uns know it or now, you are far cooler than they can ever hope to be.
The last time my ID was checked was when I was 40 (!) at a bar in Hawaii (it WAS dark). When the nice man on the door saw my passport, he said, “Holy moley”!
OK, now that’s a compliment that he didn’t realise your approximate age.
Yes, it was great!
Three times in the past month people have got my age wrong by more than a decade – in the right direction!
Lucky you! Seems that mo is working for you after all!
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I don’t take public transportation too often, so I haven’t yet been offered a seat, but I do get the “Ma’am” fairly often. The first time it happened I almost looked around to see who the clerk was talking to–now I just go with the flow!
We don’t have a culture of using the word “Ma’am” in Australia, but I must say whenever I’ve been in the US, I’ve thought it was a lovely polite term. Some students call me “Miss”, which is a bit strange. I think they’ve got it from TV shows!
In the US, Ma’am is considered to be a polite term but is typically used towards women after they reach “a certain age”. 🙂
I see! Well, that puts another spin on it—depending, of course, what “a certain age” would be. I met a marine once who seemed to call everyone over 21 “Ma’am”!
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I just can’t get beyond the fact that younger people are still offering up seats! Gives me hope for our future:)
It does indeed. On the other hand, I saw a pregnant lady get on the other day, and no one offered her a seat. She didn’t get one until a school kid got off the train. I kicked myself later for not saying something along the lines of, “Please offer that lady your seat”. There are designated seats for those who need them, and you’re supposed to get up if anyone old, disabled or pregnant gets on. On a more positive note, a young man the other day who saw me running to get on the train actually held the door open for me so I could do so.
For me it was when I went into a store and the clerk called me “ma’am”. Shoot me.
Yes, I’ve only just found out that in the US and Canada, “ma’am” is for women “of a certain age”. Oh well, respect is good!
Yes. Until the day you notice your roots are grey 🙂
Hah! Well said.
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Oh, dear. If coolness is the deciding factor, then I was old in my 20s!
Maybe you were so uncool that you were cool!
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