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My friend Candace and I went to see JD Souther last night. My friends and I love to talk about how we tend to “lower the median age” at most events we attend — last week Carly said “To be honest, I sometimes rate how successful and fulfilling the night was based on how few people our age there are.”

Candace and I joked that we were aggressively lowering the median age tonight, joked about making a drinking game for every time a kind stranger our parents’ age or older approached us with “Now, you two are the youngest people here. How do you know this music?”

When the umpteenth much older stranger came up to us at the end of the show, I shot Candace a look, held back a giggle. But this was different:

HER: Excuse me, sorry, are you Carrie?
ME: … Yes? [I was literally stunned and confused]
HER: I follow you on Twitter! I just have to say, you’re like the musical daughter I never had, bringing our music to kids your age. You make us old women proud.

Candace wanted to die — “I can’t take you anywhere!” — meanwhile, I was left with a grin and sense of pride that stayed with me until I went to sleep that night. Being the millennial voice that carries the torch for generations before me is pretty much all I want to do. To get that endorsement from someone actually from the generation I so frequently preach about was a nice reassurance that I might actually be doing a good job.

(Oh, and JD Souther was fantastic.)

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