Adjusting to a younger scene

It won’t be the old folks running you off the road or scooting ahead of you in the grocery line. It’ll be the teenagers.

hikeThat’s the deal when you move from the oldest state in the country to the youngest one (according to the most recent US census).

It’s been an adjustment.

Approaching 50 years old, I felt relatively young in Maine. It was a feeling heightened in my hometown of Brunswick which ranks 19th in the country for “Best Places to Retire” according to CNN & Money Magazine. More than a third of Brunswick’s population is over 50. There, I was used to holding the doors for seniors and slowing down for all those elderly pedestrians and drivers.

In my new hometown of Herriman, the average age is 24 (twenty-four!) and just 10 percent of the population is over 50. I now hold doors for new moms. And they never seem to have just one child. More often, there are three or five in tow.
In stores and restaurants, the background noise isn’t canned music. It’s kids and babies crying, yelling, laughing, begging, and pleading. The youthfulness around here cannot be overstated. I’m so self-conscious about my age that I try to smile more and walk with extra jaunt in my step when I’m around town.

No wonder the out of doors is so appealing. Here, I’m still reminded of my mortality; the wind, sun, and terrain dole out more wrinkles and sore muscles. But, in exchange, I get fresh air, peace of mind and no sass from the young ‘uns.

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