Who was the oldest person you knew?

Jane…was “Ide” a variation on Ida as a given name, or the somewhat rare surname?

Curious; when I was tracing family tree I ran into a great-x-6-or-so-grandfather who was married to a “Mistress Ide” (that being her surname from her first marriage, given and maiden names not recorded).

My grandmother passed away in 1996, at the age of 100. She said, “I remember horse drawn carriages, the first cars, and the first airplanes. I think I lived in the most interesting time a person could live. When I was a girl, there were places on the Earth where no one had ever been, and I saw a man walk on the Moon.” I miss Nana.

She is not quite the oldest person I have ever known. Her Aunt Ida, whom I barely recall, lived to be 106. Aunt Ida was one of five sisters, each of whom lived to be near, or over 100. Aunt Ida died after falling down a flight of stairs. I was very young, so it had to be in the early 1950’s, and with her age of 106, that puts her birth in the 1840’s. Although I recall a lot of stories about Aunt Ida, I really can’t remember much of her from the few times I met her. She thought I was skinny, and said so, out loud. She was right, but it did not make me like her much.

<P ALIGN=“CENTER”>           Tris </P><HR>
          “Some see the glass as half-empty, some see the glass as half-full. I see the glass as too big.”
George Carlin <FONT FACE=“Webdings” SIZE=5 COLOR="#ff2400"> ** *-</

The oldest person I knew personally was grandfather, who lived till 87. But I met a lady who was 111, in 1993. I guess that means she was born in 1882. Does that count?

My grandmother: we called her Grandmeme. She was born 2/3/4.

Eve - you want dates, they’re in the produce aisle. :slight_smile:

My great-aunt was born in 1893; my step-grandmother, in 1898; my grandfather, 1899.

My grandfather. I saw him last when he was 91. He died seven years ago at 98… :frowning:

My father’s mother turned 100 last fall. It amazes me that someone who has taken so much from and given nothing to the people around her, and society in general should be allowed to live so long. Her greatest gift to me was abusing my father, which was passed down to me. My mom says she will go the funeral for the sole purpose of making sure it’s really her in the coffin.

Sorry to kill the mood, but I just wanted to state that not everyone who lives to a ripe age is a good person. I think she was just incapable of maturing.

Remember, I’m pulling for you; we’re all in this together.
—Red Green

Looks like I win. My great-grandma was 116 years old when she dies and was born in 1863. I only met her once, about 5 years before she died. She died in her own home, in her sleep, fairly hale and healthy until the end.


Remember the Straight Dope credo: It’s all about wiping out ignorance, not coddling the ignorant.

My great-grandmother is 96 years old. Yes, she is 96. She’'l be 97 in April. We’re moving her this weekend to an assisted-living facility. She has some physical problems, but she is still very much together mentally. It’s cool. This woman has nine great-great-grandchildren.

A few weeks ago, my mom & my aunt took my great-grandma to the assisted-living place, to check it out. As they were leaving the apartment, my great-grandma made this funny noise, and her hands flew up to her face. My mom & aunt were freaked, thinking something was wrong. My mom asked my grandma (great-grandma is getting too hard to type, and besides, I just call her Grandma) if everything was okay. Grandma looks up at mom, points to the nameplate on the apartment directly across the hall, and says “Oh my God, I used to date that boy in high school.” The worker who was showing the room to my grandma went and got the gentleman, and sure enough, he was my grandma’s old boyfriend. They hadn’t seen each other in almost eighty years.

Is that just too freaking cool, or what? :slight_smile:

Changing my sig, because Wally said to, and I really like Wally, and I’ll do anything he says, anytime he says to.

Everyone has mentioned grandparents, and relatives. None of my relatives had very long lives (sadly), so I’ll mention a woman who went to my old church, who I knew well. She is in her mid 80’s.

I don’t know about any of you, but I love talking to old people. I mean, anyone who actually remembers the Depression is a great place to start. What they’ve seen transpire in their lifetimes is simply unbelievable. Even the cranky old men have a story, and amzing tale of some sort. I think I’d love to visit a nursing home one day, just to talk to the folks there.


“Life is hard…but God is good”

The women in my family are very long lived - unless they break a bone after the age of 80 - that tends to do them in eventually. Plus we’re also late in life breeders so we have a wide stretch between generations. Great-grandma Ada born in London about 1877 she lived to 101 and died after breaking her hip. Gramma Etta born 1898 died 1995 after breaking her hip. Gramma PJ born 1902 died exactly one year ago after breaking her hip. Great-aunt Mae born 1891 died 1984 after breaking her wrist. Her father still had his draft notice from the Civil War.
Needless to say I intend on developing a line of foam rubber clothing for myself.

All you need to start an asylum is an empty room and the right kind of people.

My grandmother turned 97 in January. She was born in 1903. Her mind’s kinda gone - she’ll ask the same three questions over and over - but physically she’s fantastic. She can still walk around, feed herself, dress herself (complete with girdle) and bathe herself. She can even, she’ll tell you with pride, put her feet up into the sink to wash them.

Ass-Toaster Extraordinaire, SDMBSRC

My great-grandmother, Lulu Tootie Brauer Wright Cocke (b 1885) lived to the age of 92, and was a tiny humdinger til the end. She could remember travelling to Los Angeles from Nebraska by horse-wagon!

I’ve been lucky to spend time with the last of the old blues musicians here in Mississippi. The oldest was Eugene Powell(b 1908), who passed away last year at 1 month shy of 90. I spent a lot of time with Eugene, and listening to his stories, memories, and best of all, guitar playing, truly enriched my life. He played with The Mississippi Sheiks, and was the last practitioner of an intricate old blues. I learned a lot of how life was down here in times past, and am amazed that someone could survive it with all kindness and humanity intact. And I’m so glad I can listen to those stories now on tape.

His last words to me were, as I left the nursing home: “Get me my pants, you scoundrel, I’m going with ya!”

My great-grandmother (my mom’s mom’s mom) was born in 1886 and lived to 1987 (that’s 101 years for we non-math types). When she was, oh, ninety or so (I may be wayy off on her age) she discovered that her name on her birth certificate was Ellen, though she’d gone by Mary her whole life. She was sharp as a staple until the end. I was only 11 when she died and there are so many things I never got to talk with her about.

Sucks to your assmar.

My Grandpa was born in 1897.

There’s a photo of him on the front page of my city’s newspaper on his 99th birthday…
…bowling! (he bowled a 138 in a 5 pin game that day)

He also did a lot of gardening and drove his car until he was 97.

He’s starting to slow down a bit though…
after all… he is 103.

How much deeper would the ocean be if sponges didn’t grow in it?

My father’s father, born in 1901, died last year. He was a brilliant painter and soloist with a razor sharp wit until the very end. I was very lucky to have known him rather well.

I worked in a retirement home when I was 16 until I was 20. I met lots of people that were in their 90s and above. One lady I will never forget… Arva Vineyard. She was born July 1, 1901. She passed away last summer. She had alzheimers though so she would forget me sometimes. I visited her quite a bit after I quit working there.

There was also a woman that lived to be 102 (b.1894) and one that lived to be 104 (b. 1893). They had never been married and never had children… which is probably why they lived so long. They didn’t have alzheimers either, they were very alert and aware of everything going on around them. That was the only bad part of working there was getting close to the residents and then having them pass away. Very sad. :frowning:

That John Denver’s full of shit man!

The lady next door to us in NJ lived to 105. Born in 1885, she also fled Russia during the Revolution, and took her family to Germany. They left Germany in the 1930’s to come to America.

I knew and loved my father’s father who was born in 1885. He died in 1981. He knew his grandfather who was born in 1802. Little more than 4 generations before me, was the start of the 19th century.

  • From them to me, 5 generations.

  • Including myself, I have already known 4 generations.

That amazes me and gives me a profound appreciation for life and a sense of awe that I can’t put into words.

Anybody want some spam?


Okatym, isn’t that Cool? I knew Lillian Gish, who spoke to people who were there the night Lincoln was shot—so only, what, two people separate me from Lincoln!