99 AND HOLDING

As long as I'm on the subject of birthdays and getting older...

My grandmother, affectionately known as "Nana", turned 99 on the first of this month...99...ninety-nine...no matter how you write it, that's OLD. But I will say this, Nana has aged gracefully. At least, up until the last couple years anyway. She has lost some of the grace but none of her style. For example, last year when I was helping her celebrate her birthday, she announced, "I can't believe I'm 87 years old! Why, I'm pushing 90!" I, ungracefully of course, had to set her straight, "I hate to burst your bubble, Nana, but you aren't 87, you're 98. You're pushing 100." "No I'm not!" she retorted. "I'm afraid you are," I said, "Do the math." (A former elementary teacher can never resist that challenge.) "What year is this?" Nana asked. "2004," says I, "and you were born in 1906". She did the cyphering on paper and I knew when she had the answer because all she said was, "Shit." Not real graceful but very much her style.

On her birthday this year, as I sat on the edge of her bed in the nursing home where she's resided since breaking her hip last winter, she announced, after coughing, that she hated to cough. Upon my asking why she said, "Because I pee all over when I cough." Too bad she hadn't made that announcement before I got settled on the bed with her. She thought it was funny. Not very graceful but, nevertheless, her style.

She also declared she was not ready to die but didn't want to see another birthday because she did not want to end up having Willard Scott wish her a happy 100th. You watch...she'll outlive Willard just to spite him. Not real graceful, but definitely her style.