I grew up in a house where respect wasn’t a buzzword—it was furniture. You sat up straight at the table.

You looked people in the eye. You sent a card, not a text, when the news was heavy.

Now, at seventy-something, I catch myself doing things that still feel like respect to me but land as awkward for the younger crowd.

They’re not wrong; I’m not either. Customs age. The intention survives, the packaging gets dated.

Here are ten “respect moves” many of us Boomers still do, and why they sometimes clang against modern ears.

I offer these with affection—for the people who taught me, and the people teaching me now.

1. Using formal titles like armor

“Good afternoon, Ms. Rivera.” “Thank you, Mr. Chen.” I was trained to add titles as a small bow.

To me, “sir/ma’am” is oil on the gears. To younger folks, it can feel stiff, distancing, or—depending on context—patronizing.

What I’m aiming for: honoring effort, role, or age.
What they may hear: you’re putting me in a box.

My adjustment: lead with the title, follow their lead fast. If someone says, “Please, call me Dani,” I switch and don’t keep auditioning my manners.

2. Calling on the phone (without warning)

I still believe a hard conversation deserves voice, not thumbs.

So I call. To younger friends, an unannounced ring can feel like an intrusion—like I’ve walked through their living room without knocking.

What I’m aiming for: presence, care, nuance.
What they may hear: urgency, pressure.

My adjustment: a one-line text first—“Free to talk for 10?”—lowers everyone’s shoulders. Respect can arrive with a heads-up.

3. Writing long thank-you notes for small favors

If you so much as water my plants, I want a stamp involved.

I like the ritual: sit, remember, write, send. Younger friends appreciate the gratitude; the ceremony sometimes feels outsized.

What I’m aiming for: closing the loop with care.

What they may hear: homework, or a relationship that now owes symmetry.

My adjustment: keep the handwritten notes for big moments and use short, specific texts for the rest. “Your soup saved our Tuesday” lands cleanly.

4. Dressing “up” for everything

I still iron a shirt for doctor’s appointments. I’ll wear hard shoes to meet a friend at a café. It’s how I say, “This matters.”

To Gen Z eyes, it can read as performative—or like I expect others to match my costume.

What I’m aiming for: signaling importance.

What they may hear: overdressed equals overbearing.

My adjustment: ask the host for the vibe or default to “neat, not stiff.” Respect can look like blending in so the focus stays on the moment, not my blazer.

5. Over-offering help

If I see you lifting a box, I’m halfway to your driveway. If I see you cooking, I’m peeling something. Younger folks value autonomy and can experience my eager hands as hovering.

What I’m aiming for: service without scoreboard.

What they may hear: I don’t trust you to manage your life.

My adjustment: ask first, and be specific. “Want a second set of hands for ten minutes?” “Do you want help or company?” Respect honors both competence and consent.

6. Telling the whole story before the point

When I was taught to explain something, I learned to lay the table: context, timeline, characters, then point.

In fast rooms, younger people prefer headlines first, story optional. My “respect for thoroughness” can feel like a time heist.

What I’m aiming for: clarity and courtesy.

What they may hear: you’re stalling or grandstanding.

My adjustment: lead with the TL;DR. “Short version: the 3 p.m. moved to tomorrow. Long version if you want it.” Respect respects the clock.

7. Avoiding direct “no,” using soft language

I was raised on “Maybe another time,” “Let me think,” “I’ll try.” Polite evasions were a cushion.

Younger folks often prefer crisp boundaries. My softness can create confusion or false hope.

What I’m aiming for: sparing feelings.

What they may hear: mixed signals, more labor later.

My adjustment: clear no, warm tone. “I can’t this week, but thanks for asking.” It’s amazing how respectful plain speech feels when you pair it with kindness.

8. Bringing host gifts like it’s the State Department

If you invite me over, I’m arriving with something: flowers, a pie, a jar of preserves I didn’t make but will brag about as if I did.

In some circles, it’s lovely. In others—especially small apartments with tight budgets—it can create an arms race.

What I’m aiming for: gratitude expressed materially.

What they may hear: you’ve raised the bar I didn’t set.

My adjustment: ask the magic question: “Want me to bring anything specific or should I just bring myself?” Respect shows up as relief.

9. Standing up—literally—for age or status

In my world, you stood when elders entered, offered seats, let people go first. I still do it.

Sometimes younger people blush, decline, or feel spotlighted as “old” when they don’t identify that way.

What I’m aiming for: deference that dignifies.

What they may hear: a forced hierarchy.

My adjustment: offer discreetly and lightly. “Happy to swap if you want a seat.” If they say no, I take it as an order, not a negotiation.

10. Over-explaining our intentions

Because we don’t want to be misunderstood, we provide disclaimers like packing peanuts: “I don’t mean to offend,” “I say this with respect,” “With all due respect…”

Ironically, those phrases make younger people brace. They’re used to candor; preambles sound like the drumroll before something clumsy.

What I’m aiming for: signaling care before critique.

What they may hear: the critique will be worse than the care.

My adjustment: swap disclaimers for specifics. “I appreciate how much work you put into this. Here are two spots I stumbled.” Respect is measured in precision, not padding.

Two small stories, because that’s how my brain learns

A while back, I called my granddaughter unannounced. She didn’t pick up. She texted: “Grandpa, in class. Can we talk at 4?”

Ten years ago, I might have felt brushed off. Now I read it as fluency. At 4 p.m., she called and gave me her full attention for twenty minutes. Boundaries didn’t cancel respect; they organized it.

Another night, I attended a neighborhood potluck. I showed up with an enormous pie—an old habit that made me feel like a good guest. Half the group is under thirty.

When I plunked the pie down, a young couple exchanged a glance. Later, the woman said, kindly, “We budget these nights carefully. Sometimes big contributions make folks feel like they didn’t do enough.”

I thanked her, brought Tupperware the next time, and listened more than I talked. The evening’s temperature dropped from “perform” to “enjoy.”

A few field notes for my fellow Boomers, learned the slow way:

• Intention isn’t reception. You can mean respect and still land awkward. The fix is curiosity, not defensiveness. Try: “How does this come across to you?”

• Ask for preferred form. Names, pronouns, titles—let people hand you the label they want, then wear it faithfully.

• Trade performative effort for practical ease. Respect in 2025 often looks like sending the address, parking tips, and dietary notes in one tidy message, not selecting the perfect bottle of wine.

• Short signals travel far. “All good?” “Need anything?” “Proud of you.” These are small, modern courtesies that feel like rest in a busy day.

• Update the rituals, keep the values. The value is dignity; the ritual is the wrapper. Wrappers change.

And a few field notes for younger friends, since respect is a two-person sport:

• If it’s awkward but kind, translate before you judge. The long voicemail might be love with a landline accent.

• Coach us once; we’ll do better. “A text first helps me,” “Plain ‘no’ is okay,” “I prefer first names”—these micro-coachings help cross a generational bridge.

• Notice the effort. We’re learning your customs the way you learned ours: by messing up, apologizing, and trying again.

Under all this is a shared wish: to matter to one another without making the other person work so hard to decode us. That’s respect that scales.

If you’re a Boomer, here’s a quick translation kit I keep in my pocket:

• “Dear Mr. Johnson” → “Hi, Alex (if offered)”

• Unannounced call → “Ping: free to talk?”

• Five-paragraph thank-you → “Two sentences, one detail”

• “Maybe another time” → “I can’t this week”

• Big host gift → “What’s useful?”

• Grand disclaimers → “Specific gratitude + specific edit”

I’m not ditching my old instincts.

They were given to me by people who cared. But I’m letting the next generation teach me how those instincts fit in a different room.

Parting thoughts

What Boomers call respect and younger people call awkward aren’t enemies; they’re cousins who dress differently.

The trick is keeping the kinship and updating the wardrobe.

I’m learning to ask before I offer, to lead with clarity instead of ceremony, to trade preambles for precision, and to remember that the goal hasn’t changed since my parents’ kitchen: treat people in a way that leaves them taller, not smaller.

If the method needs a tune-up, tune it.

Respect isn’t a museum piece.

It’s a living practice, and the best part of getting older is discovering you can still learn new steps without sacrificing the old song.