“Hey, Old Friend”

My college buddies and I have been planning a trip to celebrate a very big birthday year. After daring to ask which birthday, a young—or should I say “younger”?—theatre colleague asked how we refer to ourselves.

“What’s it like knowing somebody for 50 years? Do you guys sing ‘Hey, Old Friend’ to each other when you call? Do you talk about them as ‘old friends’? Do you feel old?”

A look sufficed.

While a good number of us connected oh so many moons ago through music, my friends and I do not sing Sondheim tunes to each other over the phone or in person. Well, not always. We still sing together when the mood strikes us—like during dinner prep or when a certain song hits the airwaves or when we hear a phrase that makes us think of a song… Yeah, we sing a lot, but not to categorize each other in an age group.

Aging has new meaning these days, and a lot of us are grooving to music well into our 70s and beyond. So, now I’m pondering the words we use for people “of a certain age” in conversations, writing, and song.

“I Don’t Need Your Rockin’ Chair” (George Jones)

Lots of us reject age monikers, but many exist! Words like “senior” and “mature” often pop up in the AARP newsletter, and that’s fine. I don’t scorn them, even though I generally refrain from calling myself either. However, I admit to feeling a thrill over a senior discount and, in my mind, lording it over younger folks in a check-out or ticket line.

Some people consider “elderly” or “aged” as appropriate, but I rarely see those except in reference to people who no longer get down and boogie as well as they used to. I have heard these terms when visiting my 95-year-old mother-in-law at her senior residence in reference to some of the other residents as she heads to the third-floor pub for “Wine Down Wednesday.”

“Golden Years” (David Bowie)

My 97-year-old aunt once referred to her 90s as her “golden years,” which is sort of an unintended pun on her maiden name: Golden. I’m not sure she’s ever even heard the David Bowie song! She talks about the other “golden agers” she lives with, and it suits many of them.

One gentleman I met while teaching a class in a senior center called himself an “old-timer,” which seems to be something that older men, not women, call each other. Well, nobody has ever said that to a woman and lived to say it again.

Contrary to lyrics in nostalgic music, I rarely hear senior citizenship called “the autumn of life,” “the September of life,” or “the sunset years.” They are a bit too poetic for everyday language, but the terms work in songs from The Fantastics or a Frank Sinatra-crooned tune.

Watch Your Tone

The right tone, whether sung, spoken, or written, can transform a derogatory phrase about age to something loving or a playful tease. It’s important to know how to craft the words to communicate the intended tender meaning.

Henry Fonda and Katharine Hepburn play husband and wife Norman and Ethel Thayer in the 1981 film On Golden Pond (see that reference to golden years there?). Ethel has several pet names for Norman, but her favorite is “you old poop.” For her, it was a term of endearment.

Likewise, it was cool for men in the 1960s to refer to their girlfriends, wives, or significant others as “the old lady.” Nowadays, it’s not so cool to be called “old lady” by pretty much anyone. Other outdated phrases often heard in classic movies are “codger,” “geezer,” “coot” or “old fossil,” which, when you think about it, is redundant.

“Stop This Train” (John Mayer)

Sometimes, folks apply adjectives that usually describe items or things to aging. Many of my out-of-date outfits may be “long-in-the-tooth,” but it’s not a descriptor I’d ever apply to a human. A vampire, perhaps, but not a human. “Ancient,” “antiquated,” and “dusty” feel like they turn a person into an obsolete find in an archeological dig. However, they do conjure a state of being for the person, albeit not a fortunate one.

“Grow Old with Me” (John Lennon)

Yes, my friends and I do sing a lot, including Sondheim songs. And we are fond of a glass of wine or two with our singing at the end of the day. But we do not refer to ourselves as “old friends,” no matter the accompaniment. “Lifelong,” yes, but never “old.”

Personally, I prefer to think of us as “vintage.” It’s a word that not only applies to our wine choices, but it hints of something classic, of very high quality. Like us.

Now, get off my lawn.