Where does that great divide hide?

this is not zambia, but this is me with my friends of various ages in Australia, from 18 to 30s

I just spent 17 days learning about what it's like to live in Zambia with a friend.

He's 30.
His sister we spent all the time with is 23. His brothers -- 28 and 18.

I'm in a completely different generation. I wonder now, if I could crawl into their heads and see: What do I do that makes them not think of me as years older? What do I do that they sit back and go, "geez old lady!"

I was telling Ralph tonight here, drinking some apple wine and chatting at the fire, how there were some things now that make me realize my age.

One: Calling the students at university, "kids." And what did Josephine think when I put on my black dress and then said, Oh, I can't wear this. You can see my leopard bra in the middle!

She said, oh come on, you can wear it. You saw my entire bra yesterday! She must have thought i was so "old." What else?

Probably when I suggested to Iggy that we go for a walk around the neighborhood - to nowhere - and then just sit somewhere and talk.

His siblings? Wanted to "go."

I remember when I was 19, I dated a guy who was 32.
I met him through a friend; we picked him up to go to a concert. Don was pretty hip. He was a sound guy for bands, ultimately Ozzy Osbourne and others, managed a record store, and looked like a Ramone with his leather jacket and long black hair.

He was fun and nice and at the end of the concert, he said the same of me and asked me out. I didn't think of him being 32. I hadn't even asked.

IN the meantime, I found all about him, and the night of the date, I remember being dressed up in a black dress with motorcycle boots (nothing changes!) and I looked at my roommmate and I said, with great concern:

"Do you think he will show up here ... in a SUIT?" "What?" "Do you think he'll wear a suit?" "Why would he wear a suit?" "Because he's 30."

At that moment, the divide seemed so great, and I thought he just might come wearing a suit. If he did, I'd die.

A few minutes later I opened the door and there was Don Schell standing there looking like a Ramone - because he did. Leather jacket, jeans, long black hair.

Phew.

I laugh so hard at that now, now that I'm past 30, and know I'd never show up on a date in an evening gown, for god's sake, because I'm over 30. So funny.