Last night, we were discussing aging in one of my social work classes and the following (summarized) comments were made by one of my colleagues:
1) "I want to die by the time I am 55. I plan on having children when I am in my mid-thirties, and by my mid-fifties, my kids will be in their twenties and independent. That way, I will see them grow up,
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My paternal grandma just died at the age of 92.
92 freaking years. Up until the last year of her life she was still living alone, independently, on the farm where she raised her eight kids. Of course the orchard was cut back to three or four apple trees and the garden was a lot more humble than it used to be, but she'd throw on a flannel and boots and get on her tractor and mow the grass. She'd sit on the porch with her shotgun (she's from West Virginia, okay?) to keep the rodents and deer out of her garden. She was still driving like a maniac all over the mountains and going to church and singing for the "old people" who were younger even than she.
I hope to live that long, and to have grand and maybe great-grand kids with relatively good health as she did. I think it would be a helluva life.
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