The friendship generation gap
Two years ago, one of my dear friends died. At the time, I was 44 and Ruth was almost 77. We hadn't been friends for long (I met her after she'd had her first book published at age 75), but over the course of a couple of years we became close, often meeting for coffee or lunch.
This new friendship took some family members and same-age gal pals by surprise. "What do you have in common?" they'd ask. Or less kindly, "Why are you hanging out with an old lady?"
Recently, I befriended a 31-year-old tattoo aficionado named Olga. This friendship also baffles.
I should point out that Ruth and Olga are exceptions in my entourage. As with many women over 40, most of the people I'm close to are my age. They are women I've known for decades and with whom I went through the dating, marriage and child-rearing years. Some are newer acquaintances, women who relate to my midlife concerns about everything from aging foreheads to aging parents. As precious as these friendships are, the alliances I have with women who are older or younger than me are also gems. I learn so much.
Been there, done that
Ruth, for example, told me what it was really like to grow old—or as she would have insisted I put it, older. "What you see in the mirror rarely fits with how you feel inside. You think, I am too young to be that person."
She told me the secret to a happy marriage: "Don't be 100 per cent honest. The notion that you share every detail with your spouse about what you're doing and thinking is a bunch of hooey!"
When I fretted over my two teenagers, she, having raised four children, assured me that, like hers, my kids would not end up in jail. Even on the topic of career, with which she had limited experience, she imparted wisdom.
I told her I was unhappy at work; she told me not to do anything hasty. "You have a good job. You're lucky." (See also: How to bridge the generation gap at work.)
"But every morning I dread going into that place!" I wailed, bursting into tears.
"Hell then," she said. "Quit."
My "youth" gave something to Ruth too. She told me I brought a spark to her day ("You're the only friend I have who talks about sex!"), and loved emailing back and forth, saying I provided a window into what it's like to be a 21st-century woman.
I wonder if anyone ever questioned her about our friendship.
Interestingly, cross-generational relationships within families are easily understood—a woman being close to, say, an older aunt or grandmother. Yet, to many, if they're not between family members, such relationships seem odd.
