Butters & Bambi

Yesterday morning, in a caffeine-charged, spontaneous moment, I bought last-minute tickets to see Duran Duran in concert. As I clicked “purchase,” I felt a mix of longing for my youth and anticipation about how I would feel when I attended the concert as a much older “grown-up.” What I thought would bring out the teeny-bopper fan in me turned out to be something much more meaningful.

I attended my first Duran Duran concert with my middle school best friend when we were in seventh grade. Our seats were way in the back of the Oakland Coliseum, and we couldn’t see the band’s faces without relying on the Jumbotron. Over the years, I continued to see them perform at venues large and small. Each time, I came away with a high from watching one of my favorite groups play to a crowd of screaming fans.

When I first heard Duran Duran was coming to Thunder Valley in Lincoln, California, I considered buying tickets, then decided not to. Frankly, I didn’t want to see them older. I also worried they wouldn’t be as good as in previous shows. When I see footage of aging rock stars still performing, I often wonder why they keep doing it. With that bias in mind, I didn’t want to risk altering my pristine image of Simon Le Bon as the heartthrob frontman of DD.

I’m so happy I decided to attend. Because what changed for me is an increased sense of acceptance.

I accepted that the members of Duran Duran are now in their 60s, and that I am an older adult myself. Letting go of the idea of them as an ’80s teenybopper band and seeing them instead as seasoned musicians meant accepting my own aging as well. Sitting in an arena filled with other middle-aged concertgoers, all fully immersed in the music, was inspiring and, in some ways, loving.

What I took away from the concert is that shifting how we think about age can offer new opportunities to experience life.

If you love what you do, you can keep doing it for as long as your mind, body, and soul allow. Duran Duran still rocks, jumping, bending, and kicking into their late 60s.

And if you seek out what brings you joy, you can keep doing that, too. I assumed going to a concert wouldn’t feel the same as it did when I was younger.

Thankfully, I was wrong.