I Know a Centenarian

I know a fellow who is 100 years old; how many people can say that? I don’t just mean that he is some person who lives down the street or attends the same church, I mean I know a 100-year-old person intimately. I know this fellow deeply based on the simple fact that I share a genetic bond. I am his son and his namesake.

I can describe in detail his favorite shirt and mark the number of consecutive days he wears his favorite pleated and cuffed pants that hang loosely from his bony hips. And I might even be able to determine how many decades he has been wearing those abraded old dress shoes, and accurately guess at how many iterations of laces they have had.

I know his routine: Every morning he makes his bed as neat as a pin as though a drill sergeant will be coming in for inspection. He shuffles around the kitchen grunting and sighing as he manipulates the utensils needed for his morning bowl of cereal and his beloved cup of half-caffeine Folgers coffee which he drinks black. The last part of his routine consists of attending to his daily hygiene and dressing for the day although he may not have anywhere in particular to go.

Mostly, his day consists of getting out of the apartment for a walk once or twice a day, engaging the other residents he sees with social repartee, and settling in his decades old lounge chair for a couple of hours of watching the daily news broadcast and a couple of black and white situation comedy shows from the 50s and 60s.

In the evenings he sets up his coffee machine and places his preferential “I Love Dexter, MO” cup beside it in anticipation of his breakfast the next morning. He retires around the same time each night after changing into his worn pajamas, brushing his teeth and watching some evening games shows on television.

His physical stature is frail, and his muscles hang loosely from his bones, overall he is scrawny. I believe he is more bones than mass at this point in his life. His heart’s pacemaker protrudes from his chest, and he is happy to tell you that it is good for another couple of years!

His fingers are gnarly and sometimes they don’t function in a manner that allows him to grip a spoon or some other item that needs to be opened or manipulated. One example is the morning challenge to open the Meals-on-Wheels pint-sized milk carton that he uses for his morning cereal. Every motion and step he takes is measured and taken into consideration because he is no longer certain about his balance. His walker, the countertop or some type of handle is always within arm’s length so that he can maintain his equilibrium.

He laughs at funny and corny jokes and slap stick routines he sees on TV. He enjoys conversing with the folks who cross his path while he is out and about. He always demonstrates a genteel, considerate, and grateful demeanor with those who encounter him. He trudges and shuffles through each moment in time making this existence better for those crossing his path. He maintains a curiosity about the wellbeing of others. He is even curious about what might be in his mailbox as he makes the daily trip to the lobby to check on what new “junk” mail has his name on it.

Hang ups? He has some. I think he still considers me (at 70 years old) to be a petulant child and he has never fully understood my un-typical thinking process and my neuro-divergent brain challenges. He finds some simple things to be exceedingly frustrating and reacts in a quick irritable manner, but it subsides just as quickly. He moves on to address each frustration in the manner that he has learned over the course of many years. He may express frustration, but never any sustained anger.

He is grateful for the many blessings he has received, and it seems to me that he realizes that he has been gifted with a long life that has meaning. This is especially evident when it comes to his family and the community legacy that he has worked on for many decades. He knows the gift of life is precious. He has been granted 100 years. In contrast, his first-born child was granted only a few hours, so I am sure he knows heartache as well as jubilation.

Yes, my dad is a centenarian. I want to say; ”Hey dad, do you realize how unique you are? You’ve earned your place in the hearts of all who know you. You are history in and of yourself.”

I too am grateful for the blessings I have; especially having my dad in my life. I realize that not many 70-year-olds can phone his dad and say; “I love you” to him and in return hear him say “I love you.”

I hope you have a delightful experience today and every day henceforth.