thirtysomething

When my sister C and I reminisce about the time she spent living in Philly (and, for a while, with us in Oreland), the subject of the TV shows we watched together often comes up. At the top of our list is the oldie-but-goodie thirtysomething. This was the story—sometimes funny, sometimes deadly serious—of a group of friends in their early thirties: their work lives, romances, adjustments to marriage and parenting. It was especially cool that the series was set in Philadelphia. The acting was superb and the scripts were terrific. As an early thirtysomething myself, I could identify with at least some of their triumphs and trials (though new mom Hope always looked impossibly lovely, whereas I had to double check my sweats for spit up stains before venturing to the grocery store). In any event, this was my tribe: the maybe-a-bit-older-than-young adults. 

Well, not only have I LONG passed that particular decade, but, as of Saturday, four of my five kids will be “thirtysomethings,” with the addition of Patrick to that demographic. It scarcely seems real, this mothering milestone that reminds me once again of my mortality. Wasn’t it yesterday that I was not supposed to trust anyone OVER thirty? And didn’t that advice make sense to teenaged, hippie wannabe me? Now, of course, I tend to trust some people (not all) both over and under thirty, realizing in my maturity that trustworthiness is not a character trait unique to one age group.

Our own 30 plusses are, I think, typical of Millennials: they have each had several jobs already, and anticipate continuing to jump from occupation to occupation as the years go by. For them, the idea of a pension and gold watch is baffling—why would anyone stay put their entire working life? Rose, at 32, is not close to tying the knot with anyone, and that’s just fine with her. Evan at 34 is in the same boat. Sheridan waited, and the other kids are waiting, or even deciding whether, to have kids of their own. Aiden and Peter may someday be far older than any future cousins on the Seyfried side.

While they are frozen in time on film, the cast of thirtysomething no longer looks like those trendy friends depicted on the show (though Mel Harris, the actress who played Hope, is still infuriatingly pretty). They have gone on to produce, direct, and occasionally still perform on television. Rumor has it that a sequel is in the works, with most of the original cast returning, and a storyline including a new generation of thirtysomethings—and their sixtysomething parents.

Maybe, if I see the characters of little Janie, Leo, Ethan and Brittany being portrayed by full grown people, I’ll finally process the indisputable fact that my brood are grownups. Until then, I will continue to see Patrick and siblings as the precious children they once were, and as Pat blows out 30 candles on his cake, I’ll sing—and, very possibly, also cry.