Happy birthday to me, a 46-year-old teacher just now learning about Drake

From Saturday's Briefing:

I turn 46 this week, yet I'm still waiting to feel middle-aged.

Well, that's not entirely true. I only recently learned who Drake is, which flummoxed my children and made me feel a little old. In my defense, neither NPR nor my one go-to satellite radio station plays much rap.

And this week, one of my sixth-graders was seeking clarification on life during the Civil War, innocently implying that I would be a good primary source. I gasped and reminded her that the war was fought from 1861 to 1865.

"Oh! That's right," she said. "I meant, can you tell me about World War I?"

Again, no.

At last she remembered that I could tell her about living during the Cold War — and only part of it, I might add.

In the last two decades of the 20th century, my grandparents lived in a cozy house in a tiny community on Belton Lake in Central Texas. Across the lake lies the massive Fort Hood. There were days in the early 1980s when the air would boom and the ground would rumble, reminders of the artillery practice taking place nearby.

"Reagan's mad at the (bleep) Russians again," Grandpa would mutter on days when the reverberations didn't stop.

My students also like to hear about life before cellphones and the Internet, when research projects required the use of a card catalog, stacks of reference books and access to a microfiche reader. That also meant hours at the public library, where friends gathered most every day for homework, group projects and good-natured foolishness.

When it was time to go home, we needed a quarter to use the pay phone to call home. You hoped there would be no busy signal.

They are fascinated by the idea of television shows that had to be watched right that moment — or else you'd have to wait for a rerun. They struggle to imagine that people were forced to view movies on someone else's schedule, not on demand.

They are confused by a time in which anyone could walk to airport gates to say goodbye or to greet family members and friends as they walked off an airplane.

I'm happy to share my age and stories with my students, even when they confuse the 19th century with the 20th. I've learned that the gift of a new year can't be taken for granted, and I'm thankful for the experiences — positive and negative — that I've piled up since 1972.

After surviving so many loved ones, I've learned to never complain about a birthday, a day that isn't promised to any of us. I've gained perspective on what's a true crisis, what's worth grumbling over and what we can let go. (Most of it we can let go.) I've tried to more often share appreciation for acts of kindness and more freely say, "I love you."

Though I'm thankful for technological advances in my lifetime and the immediacy and convenience they offer, I'm even more grateful for enduring friendships, wisdom found in classic literature and the universal benevolence of people, no matter the time period. Yet I'm eagerly awaiting the next waves of innovation, excited to see how younger generations affect change.

Perhaps that's what defines my middle-agedness — straddling two centuries, looking back and looking forward while aiming to enjoy today.

Just a few days shy of 46

Or, in the words of Drake, "I'm living life right now ... this what I'mma do till it's over."

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.

In 36 hours, I was reminded of the power of young people to create hope

My column from Saturday's Briefing:

The past couple of weeks have weighed more than most.

There have been a few parenting struggles. There have been significantly more work and household duties than there are hours in the day.

Two friends have been diagnosed with cancer. A dear family friend passed away after enduring years of health struggles.

Ongoing political turmoil and global unease continue to build, and I worry about short-term problems and long-term implications.

The weight of it all can feel crushing.

Yet we don't have to look far to find people who lighten the load. In the span of 36 hours, in fact, I was reminded of the power of people — young people, especially — to create hope.

A few Frisco students spoke last Saturday about their dreams for the future, as part of TEDxYouth event hosted at a middle school. The lineup included five of my sixth-graders, who spent weeks researching, writing, revising and rehearsing on a topic of their choice.

One student implored us to conserve water and reduce the use of disposable bottles. Another made an impassioned case for space exploration and the potential of finding life in faraway galaxies. Another spoke about inspiration for wild ideas, emphasizing the importance of creativity and no-holds-barred brainstorming that might lead to something life-changing or life-saving.

These 12-year-olds speak with confidence and poise. Their enthusiasm is contagious. They see no limits.

Those students lighten the load.

Yet we don't have to look far to find people who lighten the load. In the span of 36 hours, in fact, I was reminded of the power of people — young people, especially — to create hope.

A few Frisco students spoke last Saturday about their dreams for the future, as part of TEDxYouth event hosted at a middle school. The lineup included five of my sixth-graders, who spent weeks researching, writing, revising and rehearsing on a topic of their choice.

One student implored us to conserve water and reduce the use of disposable bottles. Another made an impassioned case for space exploration and the potential of finding life in faraway galaxies. Another spoke about inspiration for wild ideas, emphasizing the importance of creativity and no-holds-barred brainstorming that might lead to something life-changing or life-saving.

These 12-year-olds speak with confidence and poise. Their enthusiasm is contagious. They see no limits.

Those students lighten the load.

Sunday afternoon I attended an Eagle Scout ceremony for a young man I've watched grow up. Baylen's a quietly courageous leader, a gentleman who loves his family and who never draws attention to himself.

His dad told gathered friends and family about a recent dinner out. A nearby patron started to choke. Baylen, relying on Boy Scout training, left his seat, performed the Heimlich maneuver and saved the stranger's life.

Baylen lightens the load.

Later that evening, I arrived at church a little early to pick up Katie from youth group. I stood in the back of the room, visiting with a volunteer and enjoying a peek into student-led worship.

A high school student delivered the night's homily. Haley spoke about the importance of a life led by love. She spoke about letting go of material worries and focusing on how to positively influence the lives of others. She encouraged the teens around her to choose love as motivation and to live with purpose.

Then the youth band performed a final song, and all the kids sang and danced (or at least performed hand motions). We gathered in a wide circle, held hands, recited a blessing and pledged to take light into the world.

Haley and the youth band and kids in worship lighten the load.

Some Americans today are frustrated that teens are speaking out against gun violence and asking for regulations on gun ownership. Others are embracing the young voices, joining them at protests and marches, applauding their activism.

I find hope in those voices. They are less cynical, less strident, less entitled than many of older voices. They have shrugged aside apathy, something adults have asked young people to do for generations.

The students who are speaking up lighten the load because they are taking interest in civics and the political process, because they are poised to register to vote -- good for our democracy no matter which party they choose, because they feel the weight of the world and want to do something about it.

Hope lies in rejoicing in the light of the world, in honoring heroes of all ages, in listening to impassioned pleas for change and in considering how we will respond.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.

Youth group, March 25, 2018