Reflections on Thirty-Nine
When I was a child, my dad read the Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings series to me. Close to the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring, there is a birthday party for Mr. Bilbo Baggins, hobbit. He is celebrating his “eleventy-first” birthday, and who shares his birthday, but Mr. Frodo Baggins, coming of age at thirty-three years old. Not eighteen, twenty-one, or even twenty-five. Hobbits are not considered “of age” until they reach thirty-three, and the first decade and a half after that they are still considered very young. The average hobbit’s lifespan is one hundred years, so fifty is middle age – consequently that is the age of each Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo as they set out on their different quests. Both characters’ aging was drastically slowed when they came to be in possession of a particular ring, but that is a musing for another day.
Why the cultural lesson about hobbits? As many of you know, my own birthday was recent, and I have been thinking on the definition of the word “youth” in different contexts.
“Youth” is the time of life when one is young, between childhood and adulthood, maturity. It can also refer to one’s peak, in terms of health, and can be defined as “the appearance, freshness, vigor, spirit, and characteristic of one who is young.” Youth is not necessarily defined by a specific age, nor chronologically, nor is the end of youth linked to specific activities. Youth-dom (hood?) is cultural, marked by personal experiences and attitudes. While often related to words such as adolescent, teenager, kid, youngster, and young person, in both the folk music world and many church denominations, especially the mainline and/or liberal contexts, youth is defined as “under 50.”
As a side note, this definition in both folk and church circles used to be under thirty, then thirty-five, then forty, and now it is creeping up to fifty. We are officially rivaling Hobbits, albeit with shorter life expectancy.
A few days ago, I attended a denomination meeting, which happened to be on my birthday. I was working to check attendees in. In many ways, it was my first fully present presbytery meeting since Sheila’s death. I was attentive, alert, aware (mostly – except for when we had some sound issues right as I was called upon to present an election slate.) I was smiling. It was the smile that people noticed as they walked over to my desk. For the first time in months, if not years, these colleagues of mine saw me honestly smiling, without shadow or reserve.
Some even commented that I looked more youthful than I have in a while – not the world-weary, “thin and stretched – like butter over too much bread” version, but back to my joyful persona.
I even fielded the joking comment, “so – it’s 28, right?” Thank you, I will take the compliment.
But all this has me thinking, in these two circles I navigate, folk music and church, with the definition of “youth” forever changing to keep so many of us within that definition, I have to wonder about the power dynamics. What does this mean for those of us who are forever young, even after retirement, if we ever reach that marker?
I have one grandparent who died at age sixty-two, two who lived until nearly ninety, and one who just died last summer at 102. I am two-thirds the age of one grandparent, almost half of two, and just over a third of the fourth. I look back at my life, the first twenty years were spent growing enough to go to school, followed by school itself. The next twenty have been more school, delays in starting my career, like an engine with a slow starter, finally beginning, only to have the world shut down for a time, and finally a career pivot/rethink/discernment. When put that way, it has been a rather busy few years.
When I look at my grandparents, I have one, two, or three-score years remaining. What do I want them to be?
The first word that comes to mind is fulfilling, but in a relaxed sense. I do not want to be run ragged, but keep that youthful outlook and energy. I want to enjoy life and living. Contentment is another word that comes to mind, able to enjoy what I am doing, be fully immersed in whatever it is, either for work or play. I know, logically, there will always be the things that need doing, like laundry and standing up for the rights of oppressed people, activities that are constant, and need continual vigilance. There is no reason doing them cannot be part of a fulfilling, content life. When they are viewed as chores outside of enjoyment, they are a burden. When integrated into the whole, taking care of these things makes all of life better each time you do them.
As I sit here reflecting on youth, time, and life, on the frustration so many of my colleagues feel to be continually labeled “youth,” I am contemplating the energy of fully enjoying the moment. It served Sheila well for so very long.