Perky Centenarians Defy Father Time
The bag boy at Tidyman’s had just called me ma’am.
The checker had looked down at my wine, then up at my face, and decided there was no need to check my ID.
My back was sore. My feet hurt. Peering into the mirror, I could see faint lines - young wrinkles - radiating out from my eyes.
With my new 1999 calendar in hand, I could no longer deny it: The big 3-0 was sneaking up on me.
My best years are over, I thought sadly as I stared at the pretty young magazine models adorning the checkout stand.
Luckily, I was about to meet Cecil Cantrell.
Cantrell is 104. And she’s not a bit jealous of me - or any other woman 75 years her junior.
She has no desire to erase the years, to go back to her days of raising a family or working for the Milwaukee Railroad.
She’d rather enjoy a poem. Or share a joke with friends. Or listen to 100-year-old Edith Lowery play old tunes on the piano.
“I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. And I don’t mess around with men who have long hair and earrings,” Cantrell told me this week at a party for seven Spokane Valley centenarians, including one who had just turned 108.
“Where do you see men with long hair and earrings?” Lowery turned and asked her.
Cantrell just laughed.
“Where have you been all you’re life?” she retorted.
In today’s youth-oriented society, it’s not difficult to feel like old stuff by 30.
Luckily, by 100, that outlook can do an about-face.
“Who said I was 100?” gasped Lowry as she sat at the table of honor in a soft pink suit and slippers. Smiling, she pushed away the plaque honoring her long life.
“Put that away and save it a while,” she said. “I feel 35 or 40.”
Her comment reminded me of something my mother once told me. Sometimes, it takes a mirror to remind her that she’s not 30 again. Inside, she’s still a young woman.
It’s just her body that’s 71.
An ill body can age the spirit. That’s why it’s so inspiring to meet people who’ve defied the odds. People such as Lowery, a former piano teacher and chiropractor.
Staff at Sullivan Park Care Center have watched Lowery lift the spirits of her fellow residents with a gentle massage. She once offered to fix her resident care manager’s sore back. She still plays her music daily and alerts staff when the center’s piano needs tuning.
“Even at 100 or 108, they have something to offer all of us,” said RN Sincerie Arnold. “They aren’t complainers. These are tough women.”
Six of the seven centenarians at Sullivan Park are in fact female. And wouldn’t you know it, the lone male - Fred Brokaw - is taken.
Brokaw and his wife, Myra, celebrated their 78th anniversary in June. The former football player, farmer, salesman and insurance agent has 41 descendents.
Normally, he and other residents celebrating 100-plus birthdays would receive individual parties. But so many Sullivan Park residents became centenarians over the last year, staff decided to throw one big bash.
Cake was eaten. Pictures were snapped. Old tunes were played on an accordion.
At 108, Kathryn Schindler was the centenarian of highest honor. A long-time widow, she lived on her own until she was 99. It’s only been within the last year that she’s started losing her memory and the ability to recognize loved ones.
“She’s always had a glass of beer a day,” her daughter, Gladyce French, said, “and she’s never ever commented about her age.”
Maybe that’s the secret.
Maybe the less we worry about age and complain about it and dwell on it, the less it will control us.
Cantrell seems to think so.
“You’ve got to graduate with the times,” the spunky centenarian advised me.
Look forward, she said. At 24 or 104.
Sitting on a plush stool in the lounge, one of Cantrell’s fellow centenarians started playing an old tune on the piano. She played it without sheet music.
Afterwards, she critiqued herself.
“There are a lot of places I could do better,” the 100-year-old woman admitted.
But she isn’t fretting.
She’s planning to take some more lessons.