When I was a kid, someone age 67 (as I am now) was o-l-d. Old as dirt. Over the hill. One foot in the grave.
Now I’m amazed at how many people I personally know (or know of, as in friends’ parents) who are 90+. For starters, my own mother is 91, healthy, lives on her own with some outside help. I lost a friend a few years ago who was in his 90’s–I took his two cats when he moved into a nursing home. He has since died. The mother of one girlfriend is 94, another’s mom is 96. The former lives in her own house and a nephew lives with her. The latter is in an assisted living facility and does suffer from dementia.
There was a well-known fellow in my city who died last year at the age of 91. He was still active in the community, as he had been his whole life, and in fact, carried around a folder labeled “future projects.”
One, right now: my wife’s grandmother, who will turn 92 in a few weeks.
Two relatives died last fall in their 90s: my wife’s grandmother’s older sister died in September at 93 or 94, I can’t remember which. And my father turned 90 in June, and then died in October.
I attended my grandfather’s 90th birthday party in August. When I told people I was flying to Dallas for the huge bash, they were impressed because that is pretty old by any standard. When I told them that he still runs his own real estate brokerage firm and still does his own yard work, they were shocked. I then added that he was making a three hour driving loop to pick up two of his much older sisters (95 and 97) and driving them himself to his party. Longevity runs strong on that side of the family. His own grandfather was one of the last surviving Civil War soldiers and died in late 1949 when my grandfather was old enough to be married and already had his first child.
My best friend moved out of town a year ago, according to his Wikipedia page, he was born in 1929. My sister was born in 1933. The last person I talked to who was 90, I guess, was my mother who died at 98. Since my mom died, I probably haven’t talked to anybody who was ten years older than me, and I’m 77.
The man I shared a retirement office with died a year and a half ago at 91.5. Another colleague who is 75 is married to a man who is 95. Until this year I would see them regularly at concerts, but they gave it up this year. Still he was invited to Argentina this year to give lectures and went (it is his native country). A former neighbor was just moved into a nursing home. She passed 90 several years ago.
That’s all I can think of, but I have an aunt who will be 88 in 13 days and I have great hopes for her.
My grandmother passed away this past July a few days after her 98th birthday. 3 of my 4 grandparents made it into their 90s. Both of the paternal grandparents of my cousins on Mom’s side made it into their 90s as well. The mother of an old family friend made it to almost 102. My former boss’ mom also made it to 101, I think. So I’ve known a few, but none that I can think of offhand who are still living.
People are living much longer. I’m not going to say “90 is the new 80,” but when I was a kid, I can’t remember knowing or knowing of anyone who was 90 or who had great-grandparents who were still living.
When I was a kid I knew at least 15 or more people 90 or better by name. Our family is sort of clan-ish/tribal and we lived in a rural area with a lot of other families like us. All but one were women which was the start of the “family joke” - us men die in out 70s and our wives in their 90s because WE LIKE IT LIKE THAT!
Currently I could name say 8 people I know in that age bracket; five women and three men - one couple both in their 90s.
I am only 42 but I knew my great-grandmother quite well when I was a child. She was in her 90’s at the time and was born in 1883. She was practically middle-aged for the time when the Titanic sank and WWI broke out. Talk about generational differences! She was a mean old biddy in general but adored my father and me by extension. We did outdoor activities like berry picking with her just before she died. Other women could go straight to hell as far as she was concerned. She was completely mentally competent until the day she died on Christmas day 1977. Many of my female relatives still insist that she picked that day on purpose to piss them off.
I also had the pleasure of going to a storytelling session at the public library when I was about 7 and the local guest was 103 IIRC. She was a little hard to hear but she told some captivating tales of the 1800’s that kept even young kids enthralled the whole time she spoke. I also knew someone else that died at 100 that had 176 living descendants spanning 5 generations.
"The celebration of the life of Mrs. Barbara E. Liles Galloway was held Friday, February 25, 2005 at 2:00 p.m. at Rose Neath Chapel in Logansport. She was 100. She is survived by 30 grandchildren, 72 great grandchildren, 54 great great grandchildren and 20 great great-great grandchildren. "
My home town only has about 1,600 people even today so you can do the math and draw your own conclusions.
One for sure and maybe one or two others. The one for sure is my 95-year-old uncle in California, the one I reported went ziplining on the Hawaiian island of Kauai last July. The other two possibles are his wife, my aunt; and one other aunt by marriage. Both of those ladies are at least in their 80s and may have reached 90 by now.
My great-grandmother died at 85 when I was 8. All my relatives seem to die in their 70s, though they lived beyond the life expectancy of their time. I’m only 37 and don’t hang out at nursing homes.
