Growing older, it turns out, has a marketing problem. Ask most people what they picture when they hear “get older,” and the images are not exactly aspirational — slower, smaller, quieter. A room at The Para Project, full of partygoers watching ridiculous dares for charity, tells a different story.
That room held the first annual “Christmas in July” party, mostly for fun but also to raise a little money for Love Columbia, since folks were getting together anyway. Every 15 minutes or so, somebody stepped up to do something kind of absurd — a stunt, a performance, a dare — all of it filmed and posted with a link to give.
Elizabeth Mendenhall was assaulted with silly string by marauding children. Nickie Davis got slimed; Mark Slavit sang karaoke as if Frank Sinatra was right there in front of us; Jane Williams got on the hot seat and had to answer whatever the crowd asked; Wally Pfeffer had a bucket of ice water dumped on his head; and Richard King read “’Twas the Night Before Christmas.”
Oh, and Michele Curry and Brianna Lennon did a Christmas-themed mashup lip-sync battle like most superstars wish they could do.
RSVPs had been slow, the kind of thing that makes an organizer’s stomach ache. Then the room filled up anyway, and the party raised more than $2,000 for Love Columbia and neighbors in need. Nobody there was worried about acting their age.
Neither was anybody who planned Brickstravaganza, a LEGO brick community-building event at Lakeside Ashland, co-hosted with Bricks & Minifigs. The idea is simple: Hand a community thousands of loose bricks and a few long tables, then see what gets built by 3 o’clock. There is even a small stretch goal built in — a shot at the world record for the most people contributing to a single LEGO brick city, tracked through RecordSetter.com, mostly as an excuse to get more hands involved. Kids will build spaceships. Somebody’s grandfather will quietly out-engineer them.
Watching grown adults debate whether a rooftop should be red or gray with the same seriousness as a City Council meeting is one of the better reminders that play does not come with an expiration date — no matter what the birthday count.
Then there is discipline. The year-end goal on a Post-it note says “stronger,” “leaner,” “more gas in the tank” — nothing about turning 25, thank goodness. Same workout, most mornings, half awake and (always?) grumbling.
Nobody is training for a beach photo. The number on the scale matters far less than the journey: showing up, again and again, even on the days that feel pointless.
None of it adds up to a program or a pitch — just a theory getting tested a little more every week, in a party room, at a folding table covered in bricks, on a gym floor where nobody else is watching. None of those moments look like much on their own. Strung together, they start to look like a decision. The best years do not have to be behind anyone. They can be the ones still being built — one ridiculous dare, one brick, one push-up at a time.
Sean Spence is a Columbia writer, podcaster, and poverty activist. Find him at growingolderandbetter.com.
