I think having a strong spirit is a key to longevity.
My paternal grandmother's side of the family are long living people but the one who beat them all is a cousin who died last year at 109!
Máirín (maureen) was a remarkable human being. Graduated in 1935 in science at the University of Cork (Ireland) she worked on the synthesis of Vitamin C. Later on she went into teaching and ended up as the vice principal of a huge school.
She married but didn't have children and had a very full life. Her husband died fairly early on. At age 72 she decided to move into a retirement home to the family's horror. Her reason? - she was sick of housekeeping and wanted to spend her time doing things she enjoyed! She kept herself busy with all kinds of activities and social situations. She and two of my aunts were besties and enjoyed climbing in the Alps, creative pursuits including painting, and were always busy doing interesting things. Including walking vacations in their nineties!
Máirín had no time for self pity. She had a deep faith that definitely sustained her but never pushed it on anyone else.
She was sharp as a tack, didn't use a cane till she was about 105, traveled on buses alone until lockdown. Towards the end deafness did become a problem.
She clearly remembered the Irish revolution and the seminal of Easter 1916 and its aftermath and how it affected the family, but she didn't go into details about the horrors.
One time she forestalled me when I was about to ask her about her longevity- she said she had no idea and if she had a euro for everyone who asked her she'd be very rich!!!!
She was such an inspiration. I think her secret was that she loved life and didn't dwell on the hardships everyone endures. Even at her advanced ago she refused to lie in bed when she could have and kept active as long as possible.
Covid got her in the end. She was recovering, went to bed at 10 pm and drifted away in her sleep. A beautiful end for a remarkable lady I am very proud to be able to call family.
Every time I'm tempted to feel sorry for myself I just think of Máirín and stop!!!! 💗💗💗
What an incredible person! One must have a strong spirit indeed to last so long. And a certain amount of stubbornness, of "doing it my way." Thank you for sharing your Máirín story with us. She is an inspiration for sure.
"Loneliness crusts in the pleats of her pants for nearly five decades." The depth and strength of that image takes my breath away. Thank you for sharing your grandmother with us. A story that reminds us that life's path is not smooth or easy, and we find ways to continue, one moment at a time.
I grew up with my grandma, who also was my mom, my dad, my friend. Except for going to school, I was always around her like a tail. We played, we cooked, I was her little assistant, we watched Michael Jackson, as it was her favorite singer, not really understanding a thing but rather amazed by his music videos.
She always had beautiful set of clothes, vest like blouse and trousers with pretty little flowers. I remember her smile, how she was riding my tiny bike on the street with a big warm smile. We moved to Hue when she turned 60, she fell on the floor and broke her arm. Then I became her broken arm, her nurse, her caregiver. She suffered for 10 years with her weakening body. One day, when me and my little brother tried to wake her up for some food and she never replied. She soundly moved on without a word. Sometimes, I still dream of her, and woke up feeling she’s still around.
Oh, I love this, Claire. What a tribute to your amazing grandmother to share her 107 year – and counting – life this way. Tender and fascinating. Love the way you've woven in those historic details.
I've written about my late Nana Ada on Substack a couple of times; finding out she played football while the men were away at war during WW1. And finding her ancient contraceptive quinine and cocoa butter pessaries when I cleared my mother's house took me on a voyage of discovery into the history of contraception!
I can't imagine what it must have been like to send her two youngest children, my mum and my aunt, to Wales as evacuees for the duration of WWII. Just eight and four when they left home.
My other late grandmother (dad's mum) was one of the first tram conductresses in Sheffield and a very stoical and capable woman. She thought it totally normal to offer me port and lemonade when I visited her house as a child. Then I wondered why I felt spaced out!
Thank you, Wendy! You have some seriously interesting stories to tell about your grandmothers, too. Please link to the personal history of contraception you published. And have you written yet about the first tram conductress?
Here's the history of contraception, Claire! I haven't written about tram conductresses yet. Maybe one for the future if I can track down more details.
You've given us a beautiful story of love and family. I never had grandparents, as my mother was orphaned at age 13, both parents. Mom is 97 years old and still dyes her hair, has mani-pedis, and receives facials. She grew up fast during WWII, dropped out of school to work, and married late in life (to her, 26 was a spinster). After becoming a divorced mom of four kids, she returned for her HS diploma and went on to receive two B.A degrees so she could find better jobs and provide for us. In the past two years, she has been more lonely as all her siblings died decades ago as have most of her friends. She tells us living a long time is both a blessing and a curse, and then she laughs.
Your mother has lived a very interesting life, too!
My Oma admits that growing as old as she is, is not nice. A lot has to do as well with friends and siblings dying. And yet… she still enjoys life, the sun on her head, the smoked salmon, the visits.
Your ode to your grandmother is truly touching and beautifully expressed. Thank you for sharing such a personal and heartfelt tribute. Your words paint a vivid picture of her and the special bond you shared. Your eloquent writing has allowed us to glimpse the remarkable person she still is and the profound impact she has on your life.
My favorite Bubby used to live with us occasionally. She slept on the couch in the living room. When I would open my eyes from slumber, I would dash down the stairs to be with her. She would pat the couch and pull up the blanket for me to lie down next to her where she would tell me all kinds of stories that I wish I could remember.
When she was living in an elderly home and we would visit her she would motion for me to come close and whisper things in my ear. I absolutely adored her. She always had a big smile and a wink for me.
My own grandmother, my dad's mom, was a mystery to me. I knew she'd had a hard life--raised dirt poor, married at 15, abandoned by her lying, cheating first husband with two children during the tail end of the Great Depression only to move to Michigan to become a Rosie the Riveter at the auto plant, which was converted into making Army trucks during WWII. I knew she'd married again; a man she met working at the plant who was already too old to get sent off to war became my grandfather. And I knew her first son was killed in action in the Korean War. But I only knew these most basic skeletal details of her life. She wouldn't talk about any of it. She wouldn't tell the stories. Everytime I asked, her reply was "Hon, some things is best left in the past." After she died at 96, her secrets still intact, I found a shoe box she'd kept of letters and documents, telegrams and court depositions. I am now piecing it all together, adding in my own fictionalized flesh to fill out the skeleton, and turning it into a novel--the story she never told.
I believe your grandmother's life is worth a novel! With these facts and your imagination, readers will be able to experience what such a life must have been like for her. I'm working on a grandmother-novel, too, yet it's not about my Oma. Perhaps I will attempt that later, too. Wishing you lots of inspiration for the writing.
Thanks, Claire. It is an exciting, but daunting endeavor. I have wanted to write it for twenty years now, but I waited until a few key people, who might have been offended at my attempt, to pass away. Now I feel freed up to make an attempt. I have most of a first draft completed and it needs a lot of work.
My grandmother (on my mother's side) had me drive her to the store to buy artificial roses in different hues of red and in different forms (buds to wide-open). She affixed one to a rose bush in my dad's garden everyday, replacing the one from a day or two before. He was looking at his roses every afternoon and running into the house to exclaim about their progress. He was so excited about how well his roses were doing while my mother, my sister and I drew blood in our mouths biting our tongues. We knew about the prank! My sister and I were only teenagers. My father was soooooo mad once he figured it out. My grandmother lived to be 94.
My paternal grandmother lived to be 99. She was born in Copenhagen, Denmark. And like yours, she always looked great and dressed well. She lived through World War I and World War II and the things that she saw often amaze me from horses to cars, and the birth of TV to say the least. Wow!
Your grandma is so charming and your explanation of her life left me with a feeling that I know her. We need more stories of the lives long lived….how marvelous and wonderful to know them in a world where longevity is being reduced by pharmaceutical poison.
My grandma was 82 when she died. I was so upset I couldn’t go to the funeral.
Her uncle died after 105 and was in the county newspaper for that age. A celebrity of sorts jovial kind and always smiling.
Her entire family had longevity in their genes. Her grandmother had 10 children and died in her 90s.
My maternal and fraternal family were from Sicily and came to America for many reasons in 1900.
My father’s father died at 98 because the hospital left the window open in winter, near his bed all night. He got pneumonia and died in a week. He could have lived longer!
My grandparents had the best stories, the best Italian food, and always cooked at home. They had presence because of their hard working authentic lives and their ability to dismiss stress made them strong and resilient. Oh how I miss them. Our holidays like Christmas and Easter were so beautiful because they always had so many friends over and of course we grandchildren got what felt like millions of gifts on Christmas Eve and Easter chocolate bunnies that were bigger than us on Easter Sunday. The dinners for those holidays were sometimes 15 courses long and everyone was laughing dancing talking and just having fun.
All our lives are gifts from God and so precious. And a life well lived is priceless. It deserves celebration and recognition and gratitude for their devotion to their families.
Yes thank you again. I wish my grandma was still here. You are blessed indeed.
I take solace in knowing we will see them all again one day in heaven. It will be glorious.
Growing up in Canada, I only met my Oma once, when I was 11. There is an entire undiscovered history that I am missing more and more as time goes on. 💖
I think having a strong spirit is a key to longevity.
My paternal grandmother's side of the family are long living people but the one who beat them all is a cousin who died last year at 109!
Máirín (maureen) was a remarkable human being. Graduated in 1935 in science at the University of Cork (Ireland) she worked on the synthesis of Vitamin C. Later on she went into teaching and ended up as the vice principal of a huge school.
She married but didn't have children and had a very full life. Her husband died fairly early on. At age 72 she decided to move into a retirement home to the family's horror. Her reason? - she was sick of housekeeping and wanted to spend her time doing things she enjoyed! She kept herself busy with all kinds of activities and social situations. She and two of my aunts were besties and enjoyed climbing in the Alps, creative pursuits including painting, and were always busy doing interesting things. Including walking vacations in their nineties!
Máirín had no time for self pity. She had a deep faith that definitely sustained her but never pushed it on anyone else.
She was sharp as a tack, didn't use a cane till she was about 105, traveled on buses alone until lockdown. Towards the end deafness did become a problem.
She clearly remembered the Irish revolution and the seminal of Easter 1916 and its aftermath and how it affected the family, but she didn't go into details about the horrors.
One time she forestalled me when I was about to ask her about her longevity- she said she had no idea and if she had a euro for everyone who asked her she'd be very rich!!!!
She was such an inspiration. I think her secret was that she loved life and didn't dwell on the hardships everyone endures. Even at her advanced ago she refused to lie in bed when she could have and kept active as long as possible.
Covid got her in the end. She was recovering, went to bed at 10 pm and drifted away in her sleep. A beautiful end for a remarkable lady I am very proud to be able to call family.
Every time I'm tempted to feel sorry for myself I just think of Máirín and stop!!!! 💗💗💗
What an incredible person! One must have a strong spirit indeed to last so long. And a certain amount of stubbornness, of "doing it my way." Thank you for sharing your Máirín story with us. She is an inspiration for sure.
A great story, thanks for sharing!
Thanks for reading and letting me know!
A beautiful story and a beautiful and long life!
"Loneliness crusts in the pleats of her pants for nearly five decades." The depth and strength of that image takes my breath away. Thank you for sharing your grandmother with us. A story that reminds us that life's path is not smooth or easy, and we find ways to continue, one moment at a time.
Thank you, Julie. My Oma would agree: She’s still here because she kept going, no matter how difficult the situation was.
I grew up with my grandma, who also was my mom, my dad, my friend. Except for going to school, I was always around her like a tail. We played, we cooked, I was her little assistant, we watched Michael Jackson, as it was her favorite singer, not really understanding a thing but rather amazed by his music videos.
She always had beautiful set of clothes, vest like blouse and trousers with pretty little flowers. I remember her smile, how she was riding my tiny bike on the street with a big warm smile. We moved to Hue when she turned 60, she fell on the floor and broke her arm. Then I became her broken arm, her nurse, her caregiver. She suffered for 10 years with her weakening body. One day, when me and my little brother tried to wake her up for some food and she never replied. She soundly moved on without a word. Sometimes, I still dream of her, and woke up feeling she’s still around.
I miss her so much.
This is so beautiful, Thanh Thanh!
How you were with her "like a tail." How she was riding your kid's bike. How you became her broken arm.
I'm so sorry you lost her too early.
It's wondrous, how the dead can visit us in our dreams and give us the feeling that they are there for real.
Oh, I love this, Claire. What a tribute to your amazing grandmother to share her 107 year – and counting – life this way. Tender and fascinating. Love the way you've woven in those historic details.
I've written about my late Nana Ada on Substack a couple of times; finding out she played football while the men were away at war during WW1. And finding her ancient contraceptive quinine and cocoa butter pessaries when I cleared my mother's house took me on a voyage of discovery into the history of contraception!
I can't imagine what it must have been like to send her two youngest children, my mum and my aunt, to Wales as evacuees for the duration of WWII. Just eight and four when they left home.
My other late grandmother (dad's mum) was one of the first tram conductresses in Sheffield and a very stoical and capable woman. She thought it totally normal to offer me port and lemonade when I visited her house as a child. Then I wondered why I felt spaced out!
Thank you, Wendy! You have some seriously interesting stories to tell about your grandmothers, too. Please link to the personal history of contraception you published. And have you written yet about the first tram conductress?
https://substack.com/@wendyvarley/p-146364032
Here's the history of contraception, Claire! I haven't written about tram conductresses yet. Maybe one for the future if I can track down more details.
I would wonder that too. Sounds like a grand woman!
You've given us a beautiful story of love and family. I never had grandparents, as my mother was orphaned at age 13, both parents. Mom is 97 years old and still dyes her hair, has mani-pedis, and receives facials. She grew up fast during WWII, dropped out of school to work, and married late in life (to her, 26 was a spinster). After becoming a divorced mom of four kids, she returned for her HS diploma and went on to receive two B.A degrees so she could find better jobs and provide for us. In the past two years, she has been more lonely as all her siblings died decades ago as have most of her friends. She tells us living a long time is both a blessing and a curse, and then she laughs.
Thanks for sharing
Your mother has lived a very interesting life, too!
My Oma admits that growing as old as she is, is not nice. A lot has to do as well with friends and siblings dying. And yet… she still enjoys life, the sun on her head, the smoked salmon, the visits.
Your ode to your grandmother is truly touching and beautifully expressed. Thank you for sharing such a personal and heartfelt tribute. Your words paint a vivid picture of her and the special bond you shared. Your eloquent writing has allowed us to glimpse the remarkable person she still is and the profound impact she has on your life.
Thanks, Ramon! I'm happy that it comes across how special she is to me.
My favorite Bubby used to live with us occasionally. She slept on the couch in the living room. When I would open my eyes from slumber, I would dash down the stairs to be with her. She would pat the couch and pull up the blanket for me to lie down next to her where she would tell me all kinds of stories that I wish I could remember.
When she was living in an elderly home and we would visit her she would motion for me to come close and whisper things in my ear. I absolutely adored her. She always had a big smile and a wink for me.
Those are wonderfully warm memories! Thanks for sharing them.
Thank you for reading; my pleasure!
Oh, so beautiful. My Abuela was my special someone so this strikes a chord. Thank you.
Thanks, Maria. I believe many grandmothers are essential in many lives.
I loved meeting your Oma!
My own grandmother, my dad's mom, was a mystery to me. I knew she'd had a hard life--raised dirt poor, married at 15, abandoned by her lying, cheating first husband with two children during the tail end of the Great Depression only to move to Michigan to become a Rosie the Riveter at the auto plant, which was converted into making Army trucks during WWII. I knew she'd married again; a man she met working at the plant who was already too old to get sent off to war became my grandfather. And I knew her first son was killed in action in the Korean War. But I only knew these most basic skeletal details of her life. She wouldn't talk about any of it. She wouldn't tell the stories. Everytime I asked, her reply was "Hon, some things is best left in the past." After she died at 96, her secrets still intact, I found a shoe box she'd kept of letters and documents, telegrams and court depositions. I am now piecing it all together, adding in my own fictionalized flesh to fill out the skeleton, and turning it into a novel--the story she never told.
I believe your grandmother's life is worth a novel! With these facts and your imagination, readers will be able to experience what such a life must have been like for her. I'm working on a grandmother-novel, too, yet it's not about my Oma. Perhaps I will attempt that later, too. Wishing you lots of inspiration for the writing.
Thanks, Claire. It is an exciting, but daunting endeavor. I have wanted to write it for twenty years now, but I waited until a few key people, who might have been offended at my attempt, to pass away. Now I feel freed up to make an attempt. I have most of a first draft completed and it needs a lot of work.
Please keep us in the loop with your progress! Sounds great
🤯 wow! Please tell us when the novel is out!
Will do! 💜
Wow!
My grandmother (on my mother's side) had me drive her to the store to buy artificial roses in different hues of red and in different forms (buds to wide-open). She affixed one to a rose bush in my dad's garden everyday, replacing the one from a day or two before. He was looking at his roses every afternoon and running into the house to exclaim about their progress. He was so excited about how well his roses were doing while my mother, my sister and I drew blood in our mouths biting our tongues. We knew about the prank! My sister and I were only teenagers. My father was soooooo mad once he figured it out. My grandmother lived to be 94.
I love this anecdote! It's like a sequence of scenes in a movie. Thanks for sharing.
My paternal grandmother lived to be 99. She was born in Copenhagen, Denmark. And like yours, she always looked great and dressed well. She lived through World War I and World War II and the things that she saw often amaze me from horses to cars, and the birth of TV to say the least. Wow!
She passed in 1997 and I still miss her.
Thank you for sharing that. It is indeed wondrous how much people of such an age see change and manage to adapt.
Your grandma is so charming and your explanation of her life left me with a feeling that I know her. We need more stories of the lives long lived….how marvelous and wonderful to know them in a world where longevity is being reduced by pharmaceutical poison.
My grandma was 82 when she died. I was so upset I couldn’t go to the funeral.
Her uncle died after 105 and was in the county newspaper for that age. A celebrity of sorts jovial kind and always smiling.
Her entire family had longevity in their genes. Her grandmother had 10 children and died in her 90s.
My maternal and fraternal family were from Sicily and came to America for many reasons in 1900.
My father’s father died at 98 because the hospital left the window open in winter, near his bed all night. He got pneumonia and died in a week. He could have lived longer!
My grandparents had the best stories, the best Italian food, and always cooked at home. They had presence because of their hard working authentic lives and their ability to dismiss stress made them strong and resilient. Oh how I miss them. Our holidays like Christmas and Easter were so beautiful because they always had so many friends over and of course we grandchildren got what felt like millions of gifts on Christmas Eve and Easter chocolate bunnies that were bigger than us on Easter Sunday. The dinners for those holidays were sometimes 15 courses long and everyone was laughing dancing talking and just having fun.
All our lives are gifts from God and so precious. And a life well lived is priceless. It deserves celebration and recognition and gratitude for their devotion to their families.
Yes thank you again. I wish my grandma was still here. You are blessed indeed.
I take solace in knowing we will see them all again one day in heaven. It will be glorious.
Thank you for sharing your story. I wish I could attend one of the family dinners you describe, but by reading about it, I feel I have a little.
Thank you for sharing Oma. I enjoyed seeing her & reading about her.
Thanks, Julia!
Lovely post. Happy birthday to your grandma.
Thank you!
Growing up in Canada, I only met my Oma once, when I was 11. There is an entire undiscovered history that I am missing more and more as time goes on. 💖
I’m sorry she was missing from your life. I am fortunate to have mine for so long.