Today while on a long morning walk through a new neighbourhood, I met a man named Howard. He was dressed in long pants and a pressed cotton button down shirt. He may have had a bit of breakfast on his face – I assume he had had eggs – and he carried a cane but didn’t appear unsteady. He told me that he was currently 99 years old but will be 100 by the end of the year.
Howard spent the first 95 years of his life in Toowoomba, a city west of Brisbane. He gardened, grew vegetables, and played pool with friends. But now he lives alone in his house (his wife died 4 years ago) and one of his sons checks on him every other day.
He still drives and has just discovered a pool hall that he can go to in Strathpine once a week to play with some new friends. He wouldn’t mind if we came back to visit him sometime, just to chat.
His trick for long life is to “just keep breathing.” “That’ worked for me so far,” he said.