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As I am approaching my 102 years of living,
I want to share my thoughts with you,
You who are in the prime.
You seldom think of the march of time,
Assuming you will always be.
Energetic and spry, life hurries by
As you find your niche.
You may be poor or perhaps be rich,
You may follow your dreams and avoid strife,
But you and you alone can live your life.
February 14, 2018
When I first got my machine, I put my face on Facebook, said “hello” to a few friends, and left it there.
June 2018. Various people gave Mom desktop computers, laptops, and iPads as gifts. When she got her first computer in her 90s, it gathered dust as she said she was too busy to use it. What really tickled her was FaceTime. Whenever she was on it, she could not stop laughing with delight.
These kept me alive and free
And now I am 103
A deep thank you cannot
Express may lack of distress
And huge amount of appreciateness
While this short poem leaves a lot to be desired, she wrote it shortly after turning 102. When I pointed out that she was “only” 102, Mom said she will now have to live to 103 to support the rhyme with “free.”
Nothing’s the same as it used to be
I mutter under my breath
Nothing’s as clear as it used to be
When I miss the needle’s eye
With a thread
We’re not taught in school how to cope
With flying days
We are clumsy during the waning aging phase
Wishing we could do it all over again
September 19, 2016
I want to go home again
A baby wails
Back to my original home
Where everything was
Warm and Cozy
Nothing to worry me.
I want to go home again
Where I am fed automatically.
Let me go back in my womb
Where everyone’s
Concerned for my future.
This world is too complicated for me
Please take me back to mature.
Written while waiting for medication.
My Ankles
I am now 100 years old and still feel the same anxiety about my fat legs and wide ankles.
Ode to My Ankles
I never gave you a thought
If I did it came to naught
I apologize to ankles mine
Who made my life so fine.
While I bicycled and ran
I never said your name.
Thoughtless me.
In all the years never held you dear
But you finally showed me how
In a single moment I fell
and POW!
My ankles were an uninvited guest
So I make a vow
To my ankles I will bow.
March 25, 2018. This poem was a birthday gift to Ken, who broke his right ankle slipping on the ice in Minneapolis a month earlier.
Measurements
I decided to measure my legs as I feel they change sizes.
Ankle Left 10 inches Right 10 inches
Calf Left 15 inches Right 15 inches
Thigh Left 19 inches Right 19 inches
February 19, 2018
Things that close up as you age
Can cause a daily rage.
The days march on as you get older
As when you lose your hearing
As when you try to chat —
So life gets harder as you age
You become reluctant to turn the page.
Now old age is really here
As you wonder,
WHERE ARE THE PARTS THAT TASTE, SMELL AND HEAR?
Life is just a bowl of cherries - but I am allergic to cherries, so I decided to face life without the bowl and find a suitable substance that can carry me through -what to do! what to do!
I looked around the fruit bowl and found bananas may do the trick.
Age 102
We are certain we are here
But uncertain where we’ll be
Make each day appear as a prize
By being happy and sincere.
Your pals from school disappear one by one
As you face life until your life is done
Be happy and cheery
And in the end you’ve won.
This poem she wrote was read to start her eulogy on May 8, 2023.
Some retirees do crossword puzzles to keep their minds and time occupied. At age 100 she started in earnest on poetry. She wrote on slips of paper, large and small. Eventually, I bought her bound notebooks to collect her writings, but still in every nook and cranny I found slips of paper with her writings. This poem had multiple versions; This optimistic version is my favorite.
It was on Harrison Street in New Rochelle in the 1920s that my family moved to an apartment house with five stories and a comfortable stoop where we pitched pennies, threw balls against the steps, and waited for rebounds. The sidewalk was occupied with kids playing leapfrog walking on home, making stilts, and girls jumping to Double Dutch.
One morning I was bouncing a ball and I noticed a beautiful blonde-haired girl walking past our sidewalk very hurriedly. I was awestruck by her beauty. After that I began looking for her every morning. Then one day I saw a sunbeam. She was wearing a yellow suit, which to me was like a knight in armor. I took a chance and smiled at her. She smiled back. I was in heaven. I was then that I promised myself I would one day wear a yellow suit. True to my promise I am writing this while wearing my yellow suit.
(Age 101)
We head for the stables
Three times a day
Like well-fed horses
We get our hay
We’re groomed by the groomers
For the three-time trek
To the stables
Eating neck to neck.
(February 18, 2017)
She wrote this poem on New Year’s Eve 2017.
Forgettable that’s what I am
So forgettable except to Uncle Sam
So forgettable am I
Like a song of love
That’s out of date
So forgettable though I’m there to see
Am I so forgettable
Why can’t they see me
Life is hard enough to endure
I want to be remembered, not forgotten
That’s for sure.
It must be a painful time for anyone to be alone on New Year’s Eve. As a centenarian, there is much to look back on, but little to look forward to, absent a religious belief or impending visits from family.. We all share that fear of being forgotten. For most of us, we last in someone’s memory for one or maybe two generations. Of the hundred billion people ever to live on the planet, those who have not been forgotten number a trivially tiny percentage. Until recent times, the ability to leave something of oneself was limited to only the very few. Will our progeny in the 22nd Century be our “Followers” and take the time to scroll through thousands of Instagram photos to learn about us? Doubtful.
Sosh in her van tripping from Boca Raton to New York at age 102
Is Van Life just for the young? When she was 102, Sylvia (Sosh to her friends in Florida) grew tired of living in Boca Raton away from most of her family, who were in the New York area. When she grew firm in her desire to move, the question became how do we get her there. A plane would have been very taxing, particularly if there were delays. We looked at driving up ourselves, but worried about the unexpected. Eventually, we settled on a medical transport van.
Several companies provide long distance transport services. They differ in costs, size of the vans, the ability for others to travel in the van, personnel with paramedic training, and other aspects. We eventually settled on a company out of Atlanta.
Here are the questions she wrote down to ask the company that was taking her:
Can I get a picture of the cot? Is the cot off the ground?
What is the temperature in the car?
How does one go to the bathroom?
Would I be able to read or write for the hours?
What if I can’t handle the situation?
On August 18, 2018, she left Florida for the last time She took a medical transport van and travelled nonstop – except for gas – the 24 hours from Boca Raton to New York.
After we arrived, she told everyone for the next several years that the real reason she wanted to move from Florida to NY. Her cemetery plot was in NY, and she wanted to save the cost of shipping her body. I did not tell her that the medical transport van was more expensive than a sad ride in a plane’s cargo hold.
When she arrived at her destination in New York after an all nighter, she was so excited she stayed up for hours. Here she is at breakfast the morning of her arrival.
On the morning of August 19, 2018 after travelling over 24 overs in a van from Florida to New York.
…
If either of them win, I am leaving the country.
(Age 100 on Election Day 2016)
I’m an old lady
Who enjoyed the past
But have trouble with the young
Who talk too fast
Their rupture of conversation
Suddenly ceases to flow
They look to me to answer
As I hesitatingly say “yes”
(Age 101)
She figured out the secret sauce to the mirrors in her one bedroom apartment and blew the whistle on the way mirrors both reflect and distort reality:
“The first mirror is an honest mirror which shows you your wrinkles and shade of hair. This is the mirror next to the exit.
The second mirror is a 4-foot narrow mirror that leans against the wall and if you want to look thinner you just adjust it to your liking. But you get a full-length picture of what you are wearing and look like.
The third mirror is over a big portion of a wall, but the mirror does not reflect a true identity. In this mirror your hair looks darker, your face loses its wrinkles and you get a glorified picture of yourself. This mirror in the bathroom was made special for older tenants, so we are happier looking at ourselves in the bathroom.”
(Age 102)
When
Hurricane Irma hit…
…the staff did a great job of keeping us safe. We never lost power or water, and we had plenty of food. In fact, it was better than usual.
The only thing we lost was Cable TV.
You should have heard the people screaming!
(Age 101)
Mom, is there anyone here older than you?
There’s a woman who is also 103. She is a few months older than me. When I arrived here, I introduced myself and was hoping she would be my friend. But she ignored me.
She is very competitive.
Standard issue Rollator
Me and my walker feel like pals
We are as chummy as a couple of gals
I look up to make sure she’s there
And she goes with me everywhere
Three times a day she takes me to dine
As we follow other walkers in a parade like line
She is at my bedside every night
Making sure I’m steady in the dim night light
Three cheers for my walker
She never balks
However, I would be happier if only she could talk.
(Age 100)
