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Reflections on Turning 30
A Reflection on Young Adulthood
I was riding in my power wheelchair in the middle row of a converted Dodge Grand Caravan, my father at the wheel. We started talking about how hearing the songs of your youth makes you feel aged. Sort of like vintage wine but much less attractive.
I had been at the millennial watering hole that we also call a coffee shop, and had worked to the rhythms of a playlist made to feed the nostalgia of my cohort. One song stood out to me: Harder to Breathe by Maroon 5.
The song had existed subtly in the background of my childhood. A turn of the century pop-rock anthem of adolescent angst and passion. One that was now over 21 years old.
At the table in front of me sat an 8 year old boy studying with who appeared to be his mother. She was at least the right age for it, not much older than myself. Perhaps it was a tutor; after all, I live in a upper middle-class professional suburbia known as Parkland. Overpaid tutors abound.
Either way, from this boy’s perspective, this song was from the ancient past before the internet and screens dogged our every waking moment. In fact, it was as far away for him as music released in 1980 was from me. If it was me sitting in that coffee shop 21 years ago, I might have heard A Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen, or…
