When I’m 64….

September 27, 2006 at 5:46 pm 3 comments

I can distinctly remember thinking 40 year old people were ancient (then I turned 40 and got smart). The Beatles considered anyone 64 on deaths door. What do you think you’ll be doing at age 88?

I interviewed this lovely 88 year old lady today who is the driving force behind the Zane Trace Players, a community theater group. They are currently in rehearsal for the musical version of Cindrella, which means the cast is mostly kids. She produces and directs the show, makes all the sets, helps with costumes, lights, advertising, ticket sales… where in the world does she find the stamina? If someone wouldn’t have told me she was 88, I’d have placed her easily in her 60’s.

Because people in my family seem to pass away young (60’s and 70’s), I like meeting people older than that. I’m one of those concrete people who’s rarely sick, my kids tell me regularly that I’ ll live forever. A daunting thought, so I seek out really old people to see what they do with their time. The secret seems to be staying busy. The oldest guy I ever knew died at 100. At 96 he was still recording clerk for the county. Still driving at 98, but he probably shouldn’t have been, we all knew when we saw his cadillac coming down the street to leap out of the way and take cover!


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Fighting Fall Rationalization

3 Comments Add your own

  • 1. DaveM  |  September 28, 2006 at 8:58 am

    Growing old is great as long as you have all your faculties and can still get about. I have met 2 people who were over 100, one who 105 and had a son who was 70. The other was 100 and had been a pilot when they first flew planes in World War 1. Both of them were spritely and a pleasure to talk to.

  • 2. Ordinary Janet  |  September 28, 2006 at 9:14 am

    My great-aunt is 96, and she’s still got most of her wits. Occasionally she’ll be in la-la land, but otherwise she’s the same gutsy lady she always was. I’d love to talk to someone who flew planes in WWI!

  • 3. Velvet Sacks  |  September 28, 2006 at 11:12 pm

    My grandmother lived to the age of 92. She was 91 when my mother took her car keys away; up until then, she was the one who’d pick up the young 80-somethings for Sunday school each week. I never saw her without a smile on her face.


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