Granny Morrow
I just finished reading Outlive: The Science and Art of Longevity by Bill Gifford and Peter Attia, and it got me thinking about the only person I have ever known who lived to be 100 years old.
Granny Morrow was my first husband's great grandmother. When I knew her, she was in her late 90's living independently in a four room bungalow in Frankfort, Kentucky. Over the years, she had outlived her husband, all three of her sons and their wives, and at least one somewhat addled female relative caregiver. I became an occasional caregiver in 1980 after our 13 month RV trip, in the interim before starting graduate school at UK. Because she was hard of hearing, she never got my name right, always calling me "Rosa." So Rosa, I was.
Granny was a small woman, who spent her days in a recliner in the corner of her living room watching television and smoking her pipe. She had a special mixture of pipe tobacco that she combined herself in a large coffee can. One of my first tasks was to walk down to the corner gas station/convenience store to purchase the specific tobacco brands she required. She always wore an apron, because the sparks from her pipe would fly out and burn her clothes. The sparks would really fly when she got angry about something she saw on TV. She was an ardent Democrat who hated Ronald Reagan. Whenever he was on TV, the smoke, sparks, and choice comments would fly.
The first morning I arrived at her house, I asked her what she wanted for breakfast. She said that she wanted two fried eggs and a goood (rhymes with food) cup of coffee. So I proceeded to the kitchen, where I encountered a small stove-top percolator. I brewed what seemed like a goood cup of coffee to me and brought it to her. She took one taste and said, "Eew, that's the awfullest stuff!!" At which point I did what I should have done to begin with, and asked her what she meant by a good cup of coffee. It turns out that it had to be extremely strong. I've forgotten how many scoops of coffee were required, but it was even stronger than what I had encountered growing up in Louisiana. As far as I could tell, she lived mostly on coffee, fried eggs, and chicken noodle soup. Yet she seemed healthy to me, especially given her age. She did give me detailed directions on how to cook a groundhog, once. I wish I had written them down.
After each meal, she would repair to the bathroom, where she would stay for an extended period of time. It seems that she believed that one should have a BM after each and every meal, so she would try to accomplish that. I never questioned her wisdom on it. Some things are better left alone. After all, she had lived to be almost 100, and this practice didn't kill her.
To make conversation with her one day, I asked where her ancestors had come from. She said, "Owen County." (A county north of Frankfort.) I said, "What country did they come from before coming to America?" And she answered, "Owen County." "So you are almost 100 years old, and as far as you know, everyone before you in your family lived in Owen County?" "Yes." I was amazed. They must have come over Cumberland Gap with Daniel Boone! But she didn't know.
After a while, Granny became mostly bedridden, so she could no longer live on her own. Her relatives found a nice family that took in several old people to care for them, so Granny moved there. They promised to fix her whatever foods she wanted, so she continued on her coffee, fried eggs, and chicken noodle soup diet. It was there that she celebrated her 100th birthday, surrounded by family and friends. Not too long afterwards, she passed away.
I am so glad that I had the opportunity to know and spend time with her. If I live to 100, I hope I am as feisty, opinionated, and interesting as Granny Morrow was.
5 comments:
I enjoyed reading this post, Rhoda. I hope I see you live to 100!
I had a similar experience about ancestry. After living in Providence RI when I was 20, among Italian-Americans and Portuguese 'Americans, I returned to WV and asked my grandmother where our people came from. She said, Lincoln County. Later, genealogy showed they came from England in 1760s.
Enjoyed reading this. And yes, country women smoked and chewed tobacco or dipped snuff.
This is Sharon
Thanks so much to both of you for your comments. I always appreciate hearing your thoughts on my blogs.
Sent in e-mail by a friend from DC, shared with her permission:
Your blog on your family member living to be 100 has prompted me to respond (although I've been slow to do so). I've known 4-5 people to turn 100 and older. I think the only thing they had in common was good genes and a positive outlook. The oldest person in this group is my aunt (my mother's sister) who turned 110 (!) last February and, I think, will make it to 111. Longer than that I'm doubtful. By now her world has gotten very small, conversation is limited, but she definitely enjoyed her birthday party last February, she knows who she is and recognizes me when I visit. When covid began, she was in a very "well-appointed" long term care facility about 2 hours from me on the Eastern Shore, but during covid, the level of her care slipped and I'm sure she would have eventually died of neglect. Long story short, she was moved her into the private home of her long time care-giver where with attentive care, my aunt recovered. I have a video from about a year ago of her reading Green Eggs and Ham to her care giver's great grandson! She still sits with a crossword puzzle book in hand and attempts to fill in the words, although the words have nothing to do with the clues anymore.
The most memorable centenarian for me was named Elizabeth Stein. She was my first client when I worked for an agency as a caregiver. I expected to stay with this job for only as long as it took me to find a "better" job. However I soon realized that the flexible hours of care-giving as well as lack of stress suited me at the time during the chaotic years of raising 2 very difficult teenagers who were out there doing everything that teenagers shouldn't be doing, so I stayed with it. I also soon realized I was good at elder care, I was good at understanding their problems, and I enjoyed coaxing out their life stories. Anyway, I began with Elizabeth when she was 96. She had no children and had never married. All but one friend had died,and she was in assisted living, unable to get out anymore. A brother visited until he was no longer able to, and died while I was still working for Elizabeth. A niece by marriage was the only other family member who was involved in Elizabeth's life. Elizabeth had macular degeneration, and she was quite deaf. But, she was fiercely independent and wanted to continue living on her own in her small house in Liesure World, one of the very first retirement communities built in the 1960's. So, she accepted her limitations and learned to live around them. Her meals consisted mainly of a small rotation of TV dinners, which she didn't like very much, but she knew exactly where to set the oven.Her niece made her a twice weekly pot of coffee which Elizabeth heated up in the microwave cup by cup. Her family story was amazing to me: when Elizabeth was a toddler and her little sister was a baby her Jewish family fled from Russia, to London, to South Africa, to western Canada, and finally to Baltimore and at last Washington,D.C. where her father established a successful hardware store.
Yet, what impressed me the most about Elizabeth was how she handled her aging. She NEVER complained. "You have to make an adjustment" was what she said, and she did.I feel like from her I learned how to age with grace and dignity and hope I can do the same. Of course I can't help but compare her to Sue. Elizabeth lived on her own until she fell and broke her hip. She never fully recovered and died, about 6 months later in assisted living. She was 103 years old. This was about 12 years ago, but she was absolutely the most memorable of of all the people I did elder care for. Elizabeth remains my role model for aging although I also recognize that I don't really know what is ahead.
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