Inner-age Not an Issue in Cyberspace

In an e-mail the other day, a "friend" I've never met remarked how she'd never given any thought to the difference in our ages. It spans decades, but we have become fast friends.

I told her about a distant memory I have of a talk with my late grandma. She was in her 70s. I was in my teens. I was aware of her age, but I had always thought of her as very hip, very cool, very youthful. I had borrowed a dress of hers to wear to a school assembly. I could wear her tennis shoes. She was "hustle and bustle" personified.

In this conversation, my grandmother and I were talking about elderly folks and their economic situations. "I just don't know how those pool old people make ends meet," she said in all seriousness. With a bit of a chuckle I asked her when she thought she would become one of those old people. It stopped her in her tracks, but only for a moment. Then she revealed to me one of life's truths.

"Sometime -- I'm not sure when -- you just stop aging on the inside. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and think you've spotted your mother or your father, when suddenly you realize it is you. Your body has betrayed you."

I thought that was frightening. But I also saw the potential for it to be fabulous. I've never forgotten it. And I've spent more than a few minutes wondering what my eternal inner age would be.

My e-pal heartily agreed with Grandma's theory, adding it surely must be that way for everyone.

After some discussion, we each decided our inner age was "about thirty-something." (I, however, admitted to sometimes feeling like a teenager and sometimes like I'm 90, perhaps because my inner age is still so median.)

Our mutual inner age explains the fact that although we've never actually met, we seem to interact on the same wavelength. We have no mental picture of each other when we "converse" in writing. We are who we imagine ourselves, and each other, to be.

My friend could be tall, short, blond, brunette, male, female, beautiful, homely, any race, any age, simply anyone at all. And so could I. But we are friends. We had enough in common to make an initial connection. She used to live in the area I call home ... before I was even born. And I live here now. I am her link to a part of her past, a part of it that I did not exist in. It has overtones of "Back to the Future."

It would be great if we could interact with everyone on that same level. We'd either make a connection or not, with ourselves stripped of all the meaningless outer trappings.

Remember that "Star Trek" episode where the beings where just brains in a jar of liquid? They were so advanced they didn't need human bodies anymore, and they could interact just by thinking. They were just brain and soul. The internet may be as close as we ever get to that level.

It's great to have your soul noticed and appreciated for whatever it is. That isn't always possible in these bodies we must walk around in. No matter how enlightened we are, we can't help but judge and be judged for the silliest of superficial notions.

Talk turned to birthdays the other evening with a cohort closing in on 50 in less than a month. He seemed to be handling it well.

I, not closing in on 50 for another half a decade, still shudder at the thought. Forty-five is too close to 50 for my liking, but considering the alternative, I will gamely plod ahead.

We often curse the passing of time, mostly because it (like the weather) is something we can't control. But inner age -- ah ha! -- now there is an opportunity!

We all have heard the old adages, "Age is a state of mind," and "You're only as old as you feel." These sayings are not just fodder for cross-stitch samplers. They can be the key to our destiny.

If I get to choose my inner age, I'd like to be young enough to still want to lasso the world, and just old enough to know better than to try.