elder, not older
“Everybody is getting older. That’s not an accomplishment. The trick is to get elder.”
I’m almost at the end of Becoming Better Grownups, and the only way I can describe this book is that it is a delight. The author, Brad Montague, is the brilliant creative mind behind Kid President (and that wonderful pep talk you may have seen over the years). This is his second book, and captures the wisdom he gleaned traveling the country interviewing kids from over 100 elementary schools, as well as people who are very much older. Not only is it full of wonderful poignant stories, it turns out that Brad is also an illustrator, and there are whimsical illustrations all up and through the book. I don’t know Brad and we’ve never met, but in addition to my own copy, I bought several copies for several friends, even before I read it, because I’m such a fan of his work. Now that I’m almost done, I’m even more glad I did.
The book is full of aha moments, but the part that stopped me in my tracks is the quote that’s at the top of this post: we shouldn’t seek to be “olders.” We should seek to be “elders.” I feel like this phrase captures something that I’ve struggled with, probably since I turned 40.
It has dawned on me that as we grow up, in the media our models for what’s cool about growing up stop at around age 30-ish. When we’re really young, tweens look amazingly cool on television, what with their amazing wardrobes and fun sleepovers in brightly-coloured bedrooms. Then, when we’re tweens, the idea of becoming a teenager looks irresistible: apparently, if sitcoms are to be believed, all teenagers drive around in convertibles and have highly cool diners to hang out in, usually owned by a good-natured, middle-aged grown-up who just enjoys being around “the youth.” Then, once we’re in our teens, nothing looks cooler than college-aged people: they live in lively dorms, and go to amazing parties, and generally have all the fun we wish we could have, but our parents are constantly around. Once we’re in college, rom-coms make young adulthood look great: because everyone knows all young adults are well-educated, have lucrative careers, and find wonderful, soulful partners through some sort of awkwardly charming meet-cute.
Then, once we’re in our 30s? Crickets. There are so few media models that show the positive side of being older. Memes are all over the internet, mocking how out-of-touch people with some experience under their belts can be (“ok, boomer”). We’re told that as we get older, our attractiveness fades. Brands start hawking products with claims that they’ll turn back the clock. Grow old gracefully? Nah, we’re supposed to fight it every step of the way.
To be honest, this has never sat right with me: as I entered my 40s, I noticed that I didn’t feel anything like the media was telling me I was supposed to feel, or fading in the way I was supposed to fade; nor did any of my friends, for that matter. Years ago, my friend Kyran and I were lamenting our lack of positive role models, which prompted her to start a Pinterest board of “lionnesses”: women who were positive examples of what it meant to get older. The women that have been included on that board are true powerhouses: they’ve accomplished a lot, they’ve redefined physical beauty … and yet, looking at them, it still felt like trying to compare myself to women who I could never be. Try as I might, I’ll never be Salma Hayek. Or Toni Morrison. Or Helen Mirren. These women all inspired me, but I needed something that articulated better what I should be aspiring to.
Which is why Brad’s words in his book really struck a chord. What if, instead of focusing on being older, we focused on becoming an elder — however we define that? To me, an elder includes having wisdom. Modeling integrity, and modeling self-care. And of course, being an example of kindness. And courage. And leading with light. Elders may or may not be considered “sexy,” in the traditional media definition, but they are all something even bigger:
They’re magnetic.
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about this a lot all day, and I wanted to get the words down. So here’s to the elders: may we know them, and may we become them.
Soundtrack: It runs through me by Tom Misch (featuring De La Soul)
a reminder of cadence.