Cruise Ships, Money, And Popsicle Stick Birdhouses

Of course, preparing and saving for the future is smart.

But I can’t help but remember words of wisdom from the oldest man I’d ever treated as a speech pathologist following a mild stroke.

When he was 27, as a career military man, he served as a Sergeant during World War II.

He was 103 years old and when his speech cleared up, I asked him his secret for long life, and at first, his answer was typical, “I really don’t know,” he said. Then teased, “But I have a pretty good idea?”

He said he would do a couple of things a little differently.

He explained how he saved enough money to live to about 90, and never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d live past 100. “As I approached my mid-eighties,” he said, “I started trying to stretch my money. I stopped eating in restaurants or traveling. I used to love taking cruises and going to the beach. But that started to seem foolish.”

“Wasn’t it smart to have saved as much as you did?” I asked.

“Sure. But by the time I was 91, I was broke. I’ve been in this nursing home for 12 years. I am the oldest man that’s ever lived here.”

I didn’t understand what he was getting at. Was he saying he should have spent his savings sooner?

“As much as I would have preferred to avoid living in a nursing home,” he said. “The five years before I had to move in were the most miserable of my life. There I was, a healthy 86-year-old man worrying every minute about how quickly my bank account was shrinking. My savings was running out and so all I ever thought about, every decision I made, was calculated and centered around spending money.”

And then he made it clear. “And so, at 91, after outliving my entire family, having lost my home, my money, and my lifestyle, I moved into a 250 square foot room, sharing a bathroom,” he smirked. “But something I didn’t expect happened. I was breathing more deeply. My blood pressure dropped. My heart problems subsided. And I realized, while I would never take another cruise or travel around the world, I would never need another penny as long as I lived.”

“So, you were relieved?” I asked. “More than relieved,” he explained. “I was able to focus on living. I got to know the other residents. I celebrated with the staff when they got married and had children. I attended every activity from BINGO to making popsicle-stick birdhouses. I started living, I wasn’t worried about my future anymore. I’m certain that is why I am still alive,” he declared.

I giggled inside my head, thinking, this is the first person I’ve ever met who preferred a nursing home over a cruise ship. But he made perfect sense. The only thing more stressful for him than not having any savings was knowing it was trickling away. And in the height of ironies, once it was gone, it was a relief.

He'd spent the majority of his life believing it was life's luxuries he needed to find meaning.

He feared the idea of someone else having to take care of him as a fate worse than death.

In his mind he would have rather been sent to a Siberian prison then spend his remaining days in a nursing home.

At his lowest point he had considered ending it all.

As I discharged him from therapy services, he condensed it all down to one sentence. “I got enough for today.” His lips formed a broad grin as he rolled himself away in his wheelchair toward the dining room.

A happy, 103-year-old, hero.