"Old" Isn't "Dead"

One of my favorite people in the world will turn 95 this March. I have known her forever, since she was my mother's best friend when they were both just girls. Since my mother died at 62, Gloria became, in my mind, my "other mother."

Beautiful, of Italian descent with a dash of Sophia Loren, she is and always has been a wild woman. Still very active, she lives alone, drives herself to the gym and to her weekly Bingo and Mahjong games, shares her great sense of humor with everyone and has all her original marbles in place. She is a total hoot--think Betty White on steroids. Yet our society has essentially turned its back on old people, focusing instead on dumb nitwits like Miley Cyrus and her ilk as if they have one damn thing to teach us about life!

Recently I spoke on the phone with Gloria about my upcoming trip to Phoenix for her birthday celebration, and she told me about her recent fall off a high cement curb, breaking her wrist. She's fine now, but that got me started on a few of my own troubles, like high blood pressure, a concussion and last year's fractured ribs, causing me to hold on tight to the railing when I go up and down the stairs these days. "I am 68, after all," I said.

She laughed and said, "Oh, you're such a baby. When I was 68 I went bouncing around everywhere."