I never liked being the youngest of three children, with a brother four and a half years older and a sister eleven years older. As the youngest child, I always felt a bit of an outsider and I couldn’t do many of the fun things my older siblings were allowed to do. Also, I skipped the 4th grade, and completed three years of junior high school in two (7th-9th grades), so I was younger than my schoolmates. I didn’t have any trouble with academics, but I was shy, and I wanted to seem older. That’s probably the reason I started smoking when I was about thirteen, in the 10th grade. I also started wearing make-up in high school, to look older. Nonetheless, I felt uncomfortable with my classmates, especially girls who seemed more mature and who were popular in school, like the cheerleaders for the football team. Overall, I didn’t like being the youngest.
I have had a full life. I obtained post-graduate degrees, have been married for over forty years, gave birth to two children, and retired from a successful research career about two years ago. Through all this, I didn’t think much about my age. Within a few years after college I had caught up with my age peers, and my age relative to others was no longer something I thought much about. Of course I also stayed the youngest among my siblings, but as we all grew older, our age differences became less important.
But now, in my 70s, my relative age seems to matter again. After retiring from work I have become involved with the Senior Network in my apartment complex. We have zoom calls, go to lunch or other activities, and generally are a support for each other when we need someone to talk with. After the COVID lock-down regular Zoom calls between six of us began. We talk weekly, and more recently, after all of us were vaccinated, we again started in-person meetings, lunches, and other outings.
Of the other five women, four are older than me, including three who are in their 80s. Some moved to the apartment complex when it first opened, about fifty years ago, some came with their spouses. All were active professionals and all are currently retired. As a relative newcomer to the apartment complex when I became involved with this network, I wondered why I was hanging out with these old people. Then I realized I am one of them. They are all active, have no major physical problems, and we have fun together. So now again in my life I am aware of myself as one of the youngest — but this time I like it. It’s not just because being younger means I may have more years in my future—although this no doubt is a possibility— it’s also because being with these older friends has led me to view aging more positively. They enjoy life, laugh easily, share their concerns and advice open-heartedly and are compassionate. They have shown me that getting older is something I can look forward to.
And I do things to look and feel younger. I still wear make-up every day, but now because I think it helps me look younger. I go to the hair salon about every 5-6 weeks to get my hair dyed. I go to the health club and exercise to strengthen my muscles and joints, and because I feel good when I’m done. I also have stopped smoking. And I seek out activities I enjoy, such as visiting museums and explorations of new neighborhoods and sites in NYC. They all contribute to helping me feel younger and eager for yet more new experiences.
But I know that my status as one of the youngest is eroding.
My sister has Alzheimer’s disease and is declining, and my brother died over twenty years ago, at 61, from a stroke. So while I still have an older sibling, I am losing ground in the status of being the youngest. I expect that my Senior Network group will stay together for many years to come. But with new members joining, and time passing, I am likely to become among the oldest in the future. I certainly hope so.
Reflections on Aging 