While living to be 100 isn’t one of my stated goals, I think it would be interesting to consider the possibility. After all, I came through the Covid pandemic relatively intact even though all of the odds were against my survival. So, perhaps I am destined for a very long life. The other day when I was talking to my brother Brian, he said jokingly, “You’re never going to die. You survived multiple times when death was imminent…so…”

With that in mind, I put my imagination to work and thought about what my life would be like if I did live to be 100—and I wasn’t such a hard-nosed realist.

I would want to be interviewed on TV. And I hope I’d have the wherewithal to attribute my longevity to eating chocolate on a daily basis—and that I’d mention that it wasn’t cheap chocolate—but the good stuff, like Dove or Godiva or Belgium chocolate.

It would be great if I looked younger than 100—say more like 98 or even ( dare I hope it) 95!

I want to be spry– similar to how I am now. About a year ago, one of my  Health Care nurses told me that I was quite spry! That certainly didn’t mesh with my mental image of myself.  Spry seemed to describe someone old—not me! But considering everything ( like the omnipresent walker) I guess it was a compliment of sorts.

I’m lucky to be the second oldest of 8 children. My youngest brother is almost 14 years younger than me—so he will be only in his late 80s. And of course, my daughter would be only in her early 70s—still young enough to cater to my every demand. Another great thing about living to be super elderly is that the children in my family would be really young—in their 40s. I could call them up and guilt them into visiting me. So there’s another bonus– I’d still have family around, unlike many super elderly people.

Additionally, I could reminisce about all the changes I’ve seen.

 “Why I remember when there were no computers,” I could say. “I remember when phones didn’t fit in the palm of your hand and were wired to the wall. And the phones had rotary dials. I bet you can’t even imagine that! I remember when Moms stayed home and raised the kids…” And the icing on the cake—“I remember when kids were respectful and studied hard like I had to…” The thought of being able to say those things with impunity brings me a certain kind of joy.

Living to be 100 would have other advantages, too. If I did something obnoxious, it would be chalked up to my age. If I was still able to write a coherent sentence, others would marvel at my mental acuity. I could also play the elderly card and get people to take care of me—that has definite possibilities. No more guilt trips when I don’t do anything productive for a whole day. No more sense of obligation to get dressed up if someone invites me to dinner—or feeling that I must bring a dish to a potluck supper. My daughter would have to make sure my bills were paid and do all of my shopping. And she’d have to unload the grocery bags without expecting me to help. Wouldn’t it be fun to “hold court” and have relatives and maybe friends of relatives come and pay me homage? I think I would enjoy that. Then I could regale them with my memories ( see above).

One thing I hope doesn’t happen to me is to have a 100^th birthday party with me looking confused while wearing a little kid’s party hat on my wispy white hair as people in nurses’ and aides’ uniforms sing “Happy Birthday”. If I get to celebrate my 100^th birthday I hope it’s with a champagne brunch!

What I don’t want is to live to be 100 and wish I hadn’t. If I am chosen to survive to be super elderly, I want to be me—to be able to do as much as possible and to continue growing intellectually and spiritually. In other words—a miracle.