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My mom's birthday is tomorrow. She'll be 87.
I know some of you are appalled that I just divulged her age, but at 87, you should celebrate the years, not hide them. Mom agrees. As she says, even she doesn't know where the years have gone.
What else is there for a grandmother to do but blow out the candles and have another martini?
Mom is pretty much a spring chicken compared with the five women who celebrated their 100th birthdays (or more) on Friday at the Presbyterian Manor in Rolla, Mo.
Mildred Leaver turned 100 June 10, Mildred Harris on June 27 and Grace Wolfson on July 15. They join fellow residents Gladys Stuart, who turned 101 July 19 and Viola Semas, who will turn 101 Nov. 23.
The five women were asked the obligatory question of what contributed to their longevity and offered up such advice as "Go outside and get some fresh air!" (Stuart) and "Don't drink coffee or soda" (Harris).
I'm not sure what has contributed to Mom's longevity. Maybe hanging out with younger people. Maybe having two perfect sons. Maybe just staying put.
She's still in the house where I grew up. She has lived there more than 60 years.
A few years back, we looked into retirement homes for her, but after each visit, she said she didn't want to go to any of them, because they were filled with old people.
I suggested to her that she might be able to fit in, but she wasn't buying it.
I understood.
Years ago, long before I should have been thinking about such things, I made a pact with a few close friends that we'd all live together in old age. There was a method to my madness. They were all younger than I was, so I'd have a house full of whippersnappers to boss around.
The plan was to pool our monies and buy a big house -- maybe on the coast of California or Maine -- divide the space upstairs, then meet downstairs every evening for cocktails and dinner. Cocktail hour would no doubt get earlier and earlier as the years passed.
I still think it's a great idea, although a couple of members of the original pact pooped out early -- one died of ovarian cancer, another of heart disease. So some of those front porch rocking chairs are still up for grabs.
I'm sure I'm not alone in wondering where we'll all end up. Or wondering even whether we'll make it to 87, let alone 101. I do go outside and get fresh air whenever I can, though, so maybe there's hope.
Will we be lucky enough, like Mom, to stay in our own homes?
Will we be lucky enough, like the birthday girls in Missouri, to live in a place where we'd get a birthday party when we become centenarians?
Or maybe we'll have the good fortune to live out our days with old friends in a group house where the coffee pot would always be on and neighbors would stop by to gossip.
I know centenarian Mildred Harris warns against coffee, but as Mary Chapin Carpenter says in one of her songs, I take my chances.
E-mail cwilson@usatoday.com
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