What If I Were Twenty Again? Thoughts on My 46th Birthday
"Ah, if only I were twenty again..."
I heard it just a little while ago. It was said by someone about my age, who has children around twenty. They were complaining about not being able to understand them. So, I started to wonder: what if I went back to being twenty?
I'm making this reflection today, as I turn 46.
If I were twenty today, I would be out of step. When I was twenty, I was the one among my friends who spent the most time in front of a screen. Today, observing twenty-year-olds, my smartphone seems almost in hibernation compared to theirs. Just as I can’t bring myself to always use the speakerphone in public. I like holding the phone to my ear. More for privacy than out of habit.
I probably wouldn't know how to live with this social media anxiety (the commercial kind), this need to perform for TikTok, Instagram, or whatever else. And let's be clear, this isn't a "boomer" critique. I was simply born and raised in different times. I was an early adopter of social networks before today's twenty-year-olds were even born, and a proponent of free and constructive social spaces, like the decentralized ones. So, if I were in a twenty-year-old's body today, I wouldn't be at ease. I would probably be considered "the weird one".
But what if, instead, I returned to my twenties?
I remember well the moment the clock struck midnight on the day I turned twenty. I was with some friends at a friend's beach house. We were planning our New Year's Eve celebrations - which we were going to do in style, given that it was a historic New Year (1999 -> 2000) - and we had gone on a scouting trip. In fact, we didn't end up spending it there, but we were there in that moment. As soon as midnight struck, one friend started with the birthday wishes and everyone else followed. I felt so old. I mean: twenty!
A flood of SMS messages arrived in a short time. Back then, we didn't have data on our phones. We didn't have "flat" plans. We paid based on usage. We sent each other expensive 160-character texts (which taught us the gift of synthesis) or, just to tell a person "I'm thinking of you", we gave a single ring - a "squillo" - hanging up before they answered to save money. But during that Christmas period, a mobile carrier offered "Christmas Cards" - a sort of prepaid promo to send a certain number of SMS per day for free - while another new carrier (which had poor coverage) gave away free SMS. Unreliable, sure. Sometimes they arrived late. Sometimes they didn't arrive at all, but... hey! Free!
I don't have particular memories of that specific day. But I do remember that period. One afternoon, some friends were arriving by train and I had promised to pick them up to take them to the place where we would spend New Year's Eve. The house was close to the city, owned by a friend of ours, but the access was through a hidden downhill road. I remember that, while driving to pick them up, I was relaxing along the way listening to Abbey Road by The Beatles at quite a high volume. The CD, obviously. There were no MP3s in cars yet, and cassettes felt so "boomer" even then.
I was relaxed, positive about the holidays, positive about the phase of life I was facing. The start of university had been digested, I was studying things I liked, and we were planning a truly interesting New Year's Eve among friends. When the girls got in, I obviously turned down the music and played a prank by accelerating "towards the drop", knowing the road was just below. They weren't surprised, they already knew the place, and we had a big laugh together.
That New Year's Eve was beautiful, spent with friends, fun and relaxing. There were happy events, others less so, events that seemed like they would leave traces in the future. Partially they did, but not in the way I imagined. At a certain point, we decided to go see the sunrise of the new century from the main square of our city, while everyone was still sleeping. We all left together and, despite it being very cold, we sat on a low wall while the sun rose behind the ancient stones. Just the group of friends, no one else. No social media, no Instant Messaging, nothing. Just us, without distractions or conditioning. The group of people who, that night, had decided to greet the new century together.
Not everything was rosy, however. I had already started losing my hair and this, in some way, was reflected in some attitudes from others. Not discomfort, but certainly something "different". On Sundays, I wasn't interested in following football and, in fact, I got irritated because all my friends talked of nothing else. And on Mondays too. And Saturdays. And so on. Furthermore, when we went out for pizza, I often didn't eat pizza and didn't drink coffee (incredible, isn't it?). I liked playing with technology, dismantling and reassembling stuff, experimenting. I enjoyed making video and musical compositions with my computer instead of playing 5-a-side football. I went to the arcade instead - maybe with friends to do multiplayer challenges. And I had "remote" friends, penfriends - via IRC, via e-mail, scattered all over the world - something almost inconceivable for my peers. In short, I was always "the weird one", at least in part.
And so - what if I went back in time to my twenties?
No, thank you.
I would miss my life today, what I have built. I would miss much of today's world, like easily accessible communication and information. Because while it may be full of trash and fake news, the Internet is not dead. You just need to know how to search, like in a chaotic flea market. I would have to retrace everything I have walked through and no, it wouldn't be easy. Because the good is pleasant to relive, but the bad is not. When we get burned, we stay away from the fire.
And when I wake up in the morning, I feel good. Because my passions, today, are "what matters in the world". My friends, today, are those who have passions and thoughts akin to mine, not those whom life has geographically placed near you. Let me be clear - I have remained friends and on excellent terms with some friends from my youth - but many people I had around were, in fact, background noise. My wife, today, says my hair is comfortable - at least I don't have to comb it. And my work, unlike many people who considered me "weird" back then, is something I like and something the world needs.
And how many of those people resurfaced or sought me out after years, only because my path was becoming better than theirs and they wanted to benefit from it. But I stayed away from them - because, for me, it matters how you show up when I have nothing to give you.
I would be happy only because I could see people again who, in the meantime, have taken their leave from life, like my grandparents. Because I would think I had my whole life ahead of me, instead of thinking that the most energetic part has passed. Because I would have many dreams. Today I know that I have realized many of them, while others I simply transformed into something more within my reach, within the reach of the times, and of life.
Am I still weird? Sure! But today I don't feel weird anymore. I feel like myself. Because the people I have around, starting with my wife, are the ones I want and have chosen to spend time with. Because the conferences I attend are full of people who share a lot, whom I feel are much more friends than many "friends" I met on my path. And I smile - yes, I smile - when I feel good. Because I'm not ashamed of feeling good, in a world that increasingly sows hate to oppress and diminish people's value.
So no, I don't want to go back to being twenty. I want to live my life today, with what my age can give me. In the awareness that the Flux Capacitor doesn't exist, but wrinkles - those definitely do.