When I'm 99

Last week I finished my round of visiting by going to see our oldest members. On Tuesday I had the rare privilege of talking with two different 99 year olds. One was living in an assisted living apartment and the other was at home with a care giver. Both have trouble with short term memory and their sight, but their long term memory was indeed long. How I enjoyed listening to them talk about their lives in Chicago at the beginning of this century, the stories of being a young, broke newlywed during "that Great Depression," and their surprise whenever they remembered they were 99 years old. One of the women in particular spent the entire time talking about how blessed she had been. Both talked freely of death, even while I tried to hedge the subject. When I asked them when they would turn 100, both answered by giving their birthday and then saying, "if I make it that long." It wasn't said in the sighing voice of the grandmother looking to guilt you into loving her more before she dies. It was said simply and matter of factly, as if to say, "really, folks, I'm 99 -- how much longer can we reasonably expect this to go on?" That said, they were both looking forward to the big party that they expected for their 100th birthday -- as well they should.

I wish we all could have the opportunity to sit on the couch with wisdom and talk about streetcars. I wish we all could comfortably look into the face of mortality. I wish we all could look back over however many years we are allotted and say we were blessed.

Two days after visiting these women I went to visit another woman. I told her that after visiting our near-centenarians, I was coming to her to get the youth perspective. She threw her head back and laughed. It's good to see she still has her girlhood sense of humor. She should; after all, she's only 96.