Down through the ages, people have expressed concern about the generation gap. They say we should all mix it up more, all us age groups. And yet . . . the trend continues. But I have to say that the most fun I’ve had in a long time was catching up at Mocha Mott’s last Tuesday afternoon with three 24-year-old women, Lily Mollin (my friend Deenah’s daughter) and Lily’s twin pals, Robyn and Leigh, all three young ladies from Toronto. They’re down this week to stay at Lily’s dad’s Katama house; her father is composer Fred Mollin, now living and making music in Nashville.

A funny Mollin family story: Fred’s first professional gigs involved writing musical scores for horror movies. Fred told us that when Lily was a baby, he used to worry about her falling asleep upstairs to the sound of crashing dissonant high notes at the top of the keyboard. You know . . . screek! screek! screek! from Psycho, as Anthony Perkins holds the knife over the shower curtain.

Well, I’m here to assure Fred that, even with scary music gushing from the grand piano downstairs, Lily turned out fine! More than fine! With her wide green eyes and mane of auburn hair, she’s lovely, funny, smart and fully engaged in life. She mused over coffee that the Island at this time of year drives her nuts because she needs loads of flesh-and-blood contact, not only with humans, but all sentient beings (to use a hip new-old term). The day before, she visited the Farm Institute and was driven mad by the sight of new piglets.

She gestured with her arms out wide, “I ran around saying ‘Okay, who needs a hug?’ ”

Robyn and Leigh were amazed at how many people Lily knows, even now in the off-season. At a nearby table at Mott’s, Primo Lombardi greeted her with his photographic memory for faces. “How’re your folks?” he asked. “How’s your brother? He was studying in Japan, right?”

Everybody asks Primo, by the way, when his yoga studio will be opening in the building being renovated at Circuit and Pennacook. If the persistent question irritates him—like Tom Cruise being pestered about when the next Mission Impossible is coming out—he hides it with a calm and kind demeanor. And, actually, he did give me a date for when the stylish new double doors will swing wide, but he asked me not to write about it. Yet. However, I may sell this info on the streets, so be sure to ask if you see me. I take checks, cash, and credit cards.

Robyn and Leigh said that earlier in the day Lily had introduced them to Trader Fred, who happened to have his buddy, Jim Belushi, along for a stroll. (Forgot to ask if the trader and the movie star were smoking cigars, cigar distribution being Trader Fred’s specialty).

We talked about so many things, but one of the main subjects was social media. Surprisingly, Lily, Leigh and Robyn, while they tweeted, whooped and app-ed like everybody else, were growing weary of the whole digital scene. Lily said, “We were young when all this stuff was developed, so we were easily immersed in it, but we can also remember a time without it.”

I broached the topic that I’ve used before to bore the dickens out of the younger generation: “I predict that when you all enter your mid-30s, you’ll be reading Henry David Thoreau and running to build huts in the woods.”

All three girls assured me they were already there. Lily’s current job in Toronto involves a splendid effort to connect all 158 or so neighborhoods online, but she said she’d be happier wandering in the actual neighborhoods, patting dogs, greeting people, tending a garden and, should the opportunity arise, hugging pigs. Robyn and Leigh, whose dad is an architect, studied interior design, but are hard at work starting a small, artisanal bakery.

And suddenly I got it — the difference between the boomer generation and the millennials. Whereas we boomers talk a good game, that’s basically all we do, talk. Millennials are living a paradigm change and talking about it only after they’ve achieved their goals. All I can say is, if the 21st century is in the hands of the Lilies, Leighs, and Robyns of the brave new world, then we’ll be A-okay.

All it took was a father composing scary music downstairs while the baby drifted off to sleep. Some lullaby, huh?

Don’t forget to turn out, all Oak Bluffers, for the town meeting at the Performing Arts Center Tuesday, 7 p.m., April 10. Caveat emptor — we’ll have to wait through a whole rash of town business, but then we can weigh in on the proposed roundabout. Of critical importance is the selectmen’s move to block our nonbinding vote on the project. All of the five other town municipalities are being given a vote, so why not us? Come sound off on this issue.

Here’s my two cents, for what it’s worth (and I’ll be charging more for the date of Primo’s yoga studio opening): We should be moving heaven and earth to have less traffic on this Island. A rotary at the blinking light will only facilitate more vehicles. Why are we suddenly anxious about people grinding their teeth in August as they wait for their turn to hang a left onto the Edgartown / Vineyard Haven Road? They’re already grinding their teeth at Five Corners and the Triangle. Hey! Let’s put in rotaries at those spots as well! April Fools! Let’s stop the madness now, and put our heads together to ban unnecessary cars and trucks on the Island.

Sunrise Easter Service, Sunday, April 8, will be presented by the United Methodist Church of MV, 5:15 a.m. Gather at Inkwell Beach in Oak Bluffs to enjoy the rising sun, with a service to follow at 6 a.m.

Don’t forget to ask me about Primo’s new digs.