Centenarian Credits Work, Fresh Natural Food, Faith, and "Uprightness"

http://www.cafra.org/article442.html

International Year of the Older Person
Meet Centenarian - Anais Passe Coutrin

Saturday 4 December 1999

Anais Passe-Coutrin, nee Dolius, was born on August 9, 1896, at Capesterre in Marie-galante. Orphaned from childhood, she was raised by her older sister, Loulouse.

At age 13, Anais left the island of her birth for mainland, Guadeloupe.

At an early age, she began working as a servant in different houses but to this day she has very fond memories of her stay at the Corbins in Morne a l”Eau. Apart from celebrating her 20th birthday there, it was also the year she got married. On October 16, in Moule, Anais married Eloi Passe-Coutrin, a farmer, also from Marie-Galante.

They had seven children, five of whom are still alive. She now has 33 grand children and 53 great-grands. Anais has had a very active life – working the land with her husband, caring for children, working in the market, making “carpate” oil and “gros sirop”. Up to the age of 90, she was still maintaining a kitchen garden. She used to eat the fresh produce of the land and was particularly fond of bananas, manioc with gros sirop from the sugar cane. She does not like rice.

Now, old age does not allow her to enjoy such delicacies any more. She has to eat mainly pureed food prepared by one of her daughters with whom she has been living since the 1970s. After an incident of poisoning, she discovered soya milk, which she prefers over cow’s milk.

During her youth, Anais had no health problems. She had never gone to the doctor. Never had surgery. Now, she only receives a doctor’s visit for flu vaccination. Apart from her reduced mobility, Anais has an exceptional dynamism and physical freshness.

Family and the Lacroix community (the section of Moule where she lives) surround her, and faith holds a special place in her life. Every Friday, she receives blessings from the village priest. A pretty woman, she puts on her toiletries and adorns herself with jewelry on these occasions.

Work, healthy food from the land, faith, uprightness – these are her secrets for longevity. Despite her old age, Anais a.k.a Manna has great lucidity. A woman who provides pleasant company, who does not regret anything from her past, she continues to live peacefully while waiting for, according to her “God’s calling”.

Near-Centenarian Roberta McCain in Perfect Health

http://www.style.com/vogue/feature/080108/page2.html

It is a gorgeous spring day in Washington, and I am sitting in a suite at the Hay-Adams Hotel chatting with Roberta McCain while she is having her nails done for Vogue's photo shoot. So far she's been amenable to—and completely delighted with—everything we've suggested: the nails, a change of clothes, a light hair-and-makeup session. "If I leave here and my glass slippers fall off, I won't know what to do," she says, laughing. Next up is a pose in stocking feet on a narrow five-story balcony, which is making everyone but her slightly nervous. "Just call me Barkis," she says, referring to the character in David Copperfield. "I'm willing."

At 96, Roberta (as she insists everyone call her) is not just willing but almost startlingly able and a good example of the resilient genes that her son has been eager to showcase by taking her out on the campaign trail. The daughter of a successful wildcatter, the widow of a highly decorated naval admiral, and now the mother of the Republican nominee for the presidency, she spent her married life in posts ranging from London to Honolulu and has traveled—relentlessly—to pretty much every point in between. At 88, when she was told she was too old to rent a car in Europe, she simply bought one and drove it from Munich to Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan with her twin sister and most constant traveling companion, Rowena. ("I wanted to see Samarkand," she explains, and with that accomplished she continued on to Greece, India, and New Zealand, leaving the car behind in Europe for future jaunts.) Last Christmas she had lunch in Paris at Maxim's and spent New Year's Eve at the Lido before taking off for England and Scotland. A woman of no light convictions, she was rumored, during her son's 2000 presidential bid, to have flown the Taiwanese flag out the window of her apartment in Washington near the Chinese Embassy on the anniversary of the Communist Party's victory in the Chinese Civil War. While her son said, "I would truly not be surprised," his mother wasn't giving anything away. "I'm not saying whether I did or I didn't," she told a reporter. "The less said, the sooner mended. Have you heard that one?"

Despite such uncharacteristic hedging, The Washington Post, in a play on the bus that has become her son's campaign signature, dubbed her "The Even Straighter Talk Express," and it is an apt description. Thoroughly engaging, she is the proverbial open book, albeit a rollicking one that is equal parts history, travelogue, and Who's Who of the twentieth century. In the time it takes for two coats of pale-pink nail polish to dry, the conversation loops from: mutual friends we have in Mississippi (her father grew up there, and the McCain family roots in the state also go deep); the Mae West/W. C. Fields film My Little Chickadee ("the funniest movie I ever saw"); the fate of the shah of Iran ("The way we treated that man was disgraceful.… His problem was he never let anyone beneath him have enough power"); her friendship with J. Paul Getty ("I just loved him—he could tell you about everything"), and the party she has just attended at the Turkish embassy ("It was so glamorous you can't believe it"). She begins almost every sentence with "honey," and when the shoot is over, she tucks, with gusto, into a plate of cold lobster mayonnaise. At her departure, she assures us all that "this was the most fun I've ever had."

She may well have meant it—"I'm happiest wherever I am right this minute," she has told me—but there is no question that she has had a lot more fun than this.

Roberta Wright McCain was born on February 7, 1912, to Myrtle and Archie Wright, who had accumulated lots of land in Oklahoma and Texas just before the oil boom, and subsequently moved the family to Los Angeles. The two youngest of five children, she and Rowena were "always real athletic," she says. "We could run faster and jump higher, and at church suppers or what-have-you, we were always going to win the race. There was no conceit about it or anything; everybody just knew the twins could do it." Her father instilled the travel bug in his children early on, driving them through the Mojave Desert and taking them on trips to see the source of the Mississippi and to learn about the Great Lakes. With their mother the twins went by train to New York. "She always got her linen on sale at B. Altman's in January and June, and she bought our clothes at Best's."

When Roberta eloped at nineteen with Jack McCain, a young Navy ensign ("the lowest of the low," she says of his rank), she took her schoolbooks with her to Tijuana, where they married in a room above Caesar's bar. The event earned the groom a reprimand for going AWOL and merited a headline in the San Francisco Examiner: SOCIETY COED ELOPES WITH NAVAL OFFICER: ROBERTA WRIGHT DEFIES FAMILY. Rowena describes their mother as having a "cat fit" over the nuptials, and looking back, Roberta says she can understand why she "was out of sorts" with her daughter pretty much all the time. "I realize now I was so immature. I just took life as it came—still do."

The latter turned out to be good strategy for a naval wife who occasionally camped out in Quonset huts and moved her three children, Sandy, John III, and Joe, from port to port while her husband was away for long stretches. She insists she loved every place she settled, except maybe Panama, "but that was because it was so hot and there wasn't any air-conditioning." In his memoir, Faith of My Fathers, McCain writes that his mother was obliged to fill the roles of both parents, and that he "became my mother's son," adding that what he lacked of Roberta's "charm and grace," he made up for by "emulating and exaggerating her other characteristics. She was loquacious, and I was boisterous. Her exuberance became rowdiness in me.… She has an irrepressible spirit that yields to no adversity." A touching tribute to be sure, but Roberta will have none of it. "Obviously," she told a reporter when the book was released, "that means all the trouble he got into came from me."

As her husband ascended the ranks, life became a tad more glamorous. Madame Chiang Kai-shek (whom she describes as "misunderstood") gave her presents, and in Hawaii she became close friends with Clare Boothe Luce. While in London she would frequently spend country weekends at the estates of both Getty and Lord Mountbatten. "My eyes were just rolling around in my head like marbles, I was so impressed with the people we were meeting all the time," she tells me. "But they were famous because they'd amounted to something."

It was in London that she learned that "Johnny," as she invariably calls her son, had been shot down in Vietnam. First she waited days to find out if he was alive, and then she waited five and a half years for him to be released. When I ask if she was a nervous wreck through it all, she says, simply, "No. I believe in God's will, I really do. When I pray, I only ever ask for that; I don't ask for things like 'Please help Johnny get into Princeton.' " Besides, she says, "I had talked all that patriotic talk, so in times of fish or cut bait, do I stand up to the claims I've made or not?"

Not only was her husband a decorated admiral, her father-in-law was as well. "I would have been ashamed if my son had not served his country. The ones I feel sorry for are these seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds out there now who lose a leg. But Johnny chose his profession; he was doing his job," she says, adding that I could go down in a plane crash doing mine. "This is life."

"When Johnny was in prison, that woman never made a peep," says Rowena of her twin. "Same thing after Jack died." Still, while Roberta may have been stoic, she never lost her sense of delight in the world. "We were invited everywhere, and I always wanted to go along," Roberta says. When her husband died in 1981, on a flight from Europe to Washington, where they had finally settled, she kept going, traveling with Rowena from the Jordanian desert to Tasmania for two or three months each year. Two years ago, when she could no longer get insurance on the car she had left in Europe, a Mercedes "baby Benz," she had it shipped back to the States and drove it across the country to her nephew in San Francisco—by way of Mississippi, Arkansas ("I couldn't find the Ozarks, or at least I didn't see all the beauty I'd read about"), Louisiana, and Arizona, where she was given a ticket for going 112 miles an hour. "The policeman said, 'Didn't you see me?' and I said, 'Yeah, I saw you,' " she tells me, laughing. "I went straight to the next town and got the money to send to the police. I thought the quicker it was over, the better, so nobody would find out."

"She knows everything that's in every museum in this world," says Rowena. Indeed, when she's not on the road, she avails herself of the offerings of her home city, going to the National Gallery or the Freer (she has a whole room full of the Chinese porcelain she loves, and the Freer has a stunning collection) every Tuesday morning for three hours (as long as she can legally park her car, a red BMW). On occasion, she says, she "hoists herself up to New York," taking the train (with a stop in Philadelphia to visit the Museum of Art there "until my feet fall off") and checking into the New York Yacht Club "because it's cheap." An avid reader, she is currently engrossed in The Odyssey of Chinese Imperial Art Treasures ("It's like a paper chase—it ought to be a movie") and, of course, the newspapers. "I think the treatment they've given Hillary is just awful. She's a human being, and she's certainly worked hard. I mean, anything you say, you can take two ways, even if it's about the weather."


She credits her longevity to good genes (her father remained active until he died of cancer at 98) as well as her California upbringing. Rowena concurs. "We played outside all the time and only ate fresh vegetables and fruits—crates of oranges from California and apples shipped in from Maryland. Our parents had some sense. They never let us drink Coca-Cola or coffee or anything like that, and the only cakes we ever saw were at other children's birthday parties." Both sisters rarely touch alcohol, though Rowena professes to love the occasional glass of champagne and reports seeing Roberta drink beer, but only in Europe.

"I don't do anything I'm supposed to do," Roberta tells me on the phone when I ask her how she manages to maintain her almost astonishing vitality. "I don't exercise, and today I've already eaten half a box of caramel popcorn." The regimen, or lack thereof, seems to be working. Her posture is straight as an arrow, her gait is brisk, and, though a doctor told her once she had arthritis in her hands, she says, "I guess I do, but I've never had an ounce of pain from it.

"Honey, I've had a dream life, and it was all luck," she says. I venture that the impetuosity and appetite her mother so often bemoaned might have had at least a bit to do with it. "I'm glad my mother's not around, because I still don't plan ahead or think things out." She laughs. "Mother told me once, 'If the gardener asked you to go to Chinatown with him, you'd go.' And I thought, Well, of course I would."

"The Firecracker" has been edited for Style.com; the complete story appears in the August 2008 issue of Vogue.

Britain's Oldest Man, 112, Still 'Full of Life'

Mr Allingham said he felt 'on the crest of a wave' on his 112th birthday


http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/7439458.stm


Long life secrets of oldest man

Henry Allingham, Britain's oldest man, has joked that his secret to longevity is "cigarettes, whisky and wild women".

Born in Clapton, east London, in 1896, when Queen Victoria was on the throne, the 112-year-old's life has spanned six monarchs and 21 prime ministers.

He has described the current Queen, who he has met on several occasions, as a "lovely lady", and said it was a "great honour" to meet her.

Friends of Mr Allingham have described him as an "incredible man" who remains full of life.

Dennis Goodwin, his friend and chaperone, said: "He is an example to us all. He keeps up with all the events and functions that he is invited to.

"Last year we counted that he had clocked up 47 events which is quite something for a man his age.

"He knows what's going on around him and enjoys the company of people."

Naval battle

But the 112-year-old did not have the easiest start in life.

His father died from tuberculosis in 1898, when Mr Allingham was 18 months old. When he was 19, his mother died.

The teenager then enlisted with the Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) as a skilled mechanic and a year later, in 1916, he was involved in the greatest naval battle of the World War I, the Battle of Jutland.

A year before the end of the war, he was posted to France to support the Royal Flying Corps, and helped service and rescue aircraft which crashed behind the trenches.

In 1919, after leaving the RNAS, Mr Allingham married 22-year-old Dorothy Cater in Chingford, Essex.

The couple went on to have two daughters, and he now has five grandchildren and 12 great grandchildren.

His wife died 38 years ago, while his daughters both died in their 80s.

Following his armed forces career, Mr Allingham worked in engineering roles, and was in a senior position with car manufacturer Ford by the time of his retirement in 1960.

In 2003, he received France's highest military honour, the Legion D'Honneur, at a ceremony at Eastbourne Town Hall.

In 2004, at the age of 108, he laid a wreath and led the service in the Lord's Prayer at the 90th anniversary of the World War I at the Cenotaph.

To mark Armistice Day in 2005, Mr Allingham travelled to St Omer, near Calais, France, to lay wreaths to fallen comrades.

German greeting

A year later, aged 110, as the oldest British World War I veteran, Mr Allingham met his German counterpart, Robert Meier, 109.

The men greeted each other warmly and laid a wreath at the war memorial near Witten town hall.

Mr Meier said it was "amazing" that both men were still alive and went on to say: "Why did we have to have a war?"

In 2007, Mr Allingham marked his 111th birthday on board the Royal Navy's oldest warship, HMS Victory, at Portsmouth.

A military flypast of aircraft from the Royal Navy's historic flight and the RAF marked the occasion.

Eight of Mr Allingham's grandchildren and great grandchildren and their partners flew from their homes in the United States to join him for his 112th birthday.

On reaching the grand age, Mr Allingham said he felt "on the crest of a wave".

He said: "People ask me how I've done it, and I just say that I look forward to another tomorrow."


* * *

There are videos of Mr. Allingham on the BBC page, if the page is still up, anyway.

Mr. Allingham manages to stay positive and always look forward to the future while enjoying activities and people around him every day. Keeping engaged with life is important.

Britain's Oldest Man, WWI Vet, Is Supercentenarian

Members of Mr Allingham's family travelled from the US for the party

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/7439117.stm



Britain's oldest man, thought to be one of three surviving UK World War I veterans, has celebrated his 112th birthday with a VIP lunch and fly-past.

Henry Allingham is also the last surviving original member of the Royal Air Force - formed 90 years ago.

A Battle of Britain Memorial Flight, involving a Lancaster bomber, Spitfire and Hurricane, honoured the occasion.

The party for Mr Allingham, from Ovingdean, near Brighton, was being held at RAF Cranwell in Lincolnshire.

A planned jump by the Royal Air Force Falcons Parachute Display Team had to be cancelled because of low cloud, but the team delivered a birthday card, signed by the Chief of the Air Staff, Air Chief Marshal Sir Glenn Torpy, by Chinook helicopter.

Following the fly-past, a two-seater single-engine Tutor aircraft performed an acrobatic display above Cranwell college's main building for the assembled guests, including his great-great-grandchildren Erik Carlson, two, and four-month-old Lila Rose Gray.

Air Vice Marshal Peter Dye (retired) and Vice Admiral Sir Adrian Johns attended the event.

Mr Allingham was also presented with a birthday card and cake by children from Cranwell Primary School.

When asked for the secret of long life, Mr Allingham said: "I don't think there's a particular reason.

"The only thing I can say is all my life I have lived within my limitations, take life slowly, don't get any stress or strains.

"The more birthdays I enjoy the longer I live."

And he said: "The fly-past was a very nice gesture and I want to show my appreciation.

"I really enjoyed it, I wasn't too tired which was a good thing actually."

'Modest man'

AVM Dye said: "Henry is a most modest man but I also think he is the most incredible of individuals.

"He has a passion and a determination to tell people about his experiences and to bear witness to those who served like him in World War I."

He said Mr Allingham recognised he was "incredibly lucky" to survive the experience, but was " determined to talk" about it and what it meant.

Now partially deaf and almost blind, Mr Allingham, who was born in Clapton, London on 6 June 1896, lives at St Dunstan's home for blind ex-servicemen, in Ovingdean.

His life has spanned six monarchs and has taken in 21 prime ministers.

Mr Allingham grew up without a father after he died from tuberculosis in 1898. His mother died 17 years later.

He went on to have two daughters with his wife Dorothy Cater, whom he married in 1919, and now has five grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren.

His wife died 38 years ago, while his daughters both died in their 80s.

Mr Allingham's grandson David Gray, 59, from northern Michigan, said his grandfather was nine months younger than the oldest person in the world, and the joint-second oldest person in the world.

He said: "It's remarkable. Not only has he lived to this long but he has still got his mental faculties intact.

"Our whole family are very proud of him."

Mr Gray added it was "pretty special" the RAF put on "this kind of celebration", which got better and better each year.

Mr Allingham was accompanied on the visit by close friend Dennis Goodwin, who is also founder of the First World War Veterans' Association.

He said Mr Allingham's favourite tipple was a cup of tea with one sugar every morning.

Mr Allingham is the last survivor of the Battle of Jutland in 1916 and also fought at the Somme and Ypres where he was bombed and shelled.

He joined the Royal Air Force when it was formed from the Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS) and the Army's Flying Corps in 1918.

His many medals and honours include the British War Medal, the Victory Medal and the Legion D'Honneur - the highest military accolade awarded by France.

He has joked that the secret to his longevity is "cigarettes, whisky and wild women".



* * *

Still has a sense of humor!

There are a bunch of videos of him on the BBC page (while still available), if interested.

It's amazing that he's still cognitively intact and maintains a "passion" to tell people about WWI. Having the will to stay engaged with life, people, and interests seems as important as the reliably noted stress-resistant lifestyle and attitude.

He also faced significant stressors and setbacks, such as the early deaths of loved ones, but kept on.

So much for the theory that daughters inherit their fathers' lifespans and long telomeres, as both of Allingham's daughters died in their 80s. I suppose they could have inherited a particularly exaggerated tendency toward worrying or something like that from the mother. All it takes is one proclivity like that to cancel out the rest of the fantastic genes.

'How to Live to 100'

Copy of this 11-year old article found here:
http://www.bumc.bu.edu/Dept/Content.aspx?DepartmentID=361&PageID=5900

Newsweek
How to Live to 100
Decrepitude isn't inevitable. New research shows we all have the tools to live longer lives and die faster deaths.
June 30, 1997

By Geoffrey Cowley


At 104, Angeline Strandal doesn't place much stock in doctors. "If they start poking around you," she says, "they'll only make you sick." The Massachusetts centenarian does go in for a physical once in a while, but she hasn't been seriously ill since the time she came down with appendicitis--in 1925. "People ask me what I eat," she says. "I'm a vegetarian, more or less. I never smoked. I don't drink either. That's one of my good qualities. And I keep my bedroom window open 365 days a year." Strandal has outlived 11 siblings and a husband, who died back in 1931, but she still cooks every day except Sunday for her 67-year-old daughter and her 69-year-old son. She also catches a daily mass on TV, roots faithfully for the Boston Red Sox and loves nothing more than a good heavyweight fight. "Every day I ask God to give me one more day," she muses. "And believe it or not, he does."

We baby boomers may soon find ourselves emulating Angeline Strandal, or someone like her, as devoutly as we once did Jim Morrison. We've watched our parents or grandparents die in their 70s--often sick, lonely and helpless--and we're beginning to sense that life should be longer and richer than that. "When the boomers started turning 50, it was like the start of the Oklahoma land rush," says Dan Perry, director of the Washington-based Alliance for Aging Research. Surveys by Perry's organization suggest that today's 50-year-olds are suddenly serious about living to 100, and keen to get there in reasonably good health.

"They don't want to spend any time at all in a nursing home," he says. "The fear of losing independence and the ability to fend for oneself is overwhelming."

Well, it turns out we may have a say in the matter. A growing body of research suggests that chronic illness is not an inevitable consequence of aging, as we've long believed, but more often the result of lifestyle choices that we're perfectly free to reject. "People used to say, 'Who would want to be 100?' " says Dr. Thomas Perls, an instructor at Harvard Medical School and director of the New England Centenarian Study. "Now they're realizing it's an opportunity." So are booksellers and magazine publishers. "Live long, die fast," the dust jackets urge us. "Dare to be 100." Many of us will fall short of that number simply through bad genes or bad luck. And high-tech medicine isn't likely to change the outlook dramatically; drugs and surgery can do only so much to sustain a body once it starts to fail. But there is no question we can lengthen our lives while shortening our deaths. The tools already exist, and they're within virtually everyone's reach.

Life expectancy in the United States has nearly doubled since Angeline Strandal was a kid--from 47 years to 76 years. And though centenarians are still rare, they now constitute the fastest-growing segment of the U.S. population. Their ranks have increased 16-fold over the past six decades--from 3,700 in 1940 to roughly 61,000 today. And the explosion is just getting started. The Census Bureau projects that one in nine baby boomers (9 million of the 80 million people born between 1946 and 1964) will survive into their late 90s, and that one in 26 (or 3 million) will reach 100. "A century ago, the odds of living that long were about one in 500," says Lynn Adler, founder of the National Centenarian Awareness Project and the author of "Centenarians: The Bonus Years." "That's how far we've come." If decrepitude were an inevitable part of aging, these burgeoning numbers would spell trouble. But the evidence suggests that Americans are living better, as well as longer. The disability rate among people older than 65 has fallen steadily since the early 1980s, according to Duke University demographer Kenneth Manton, and a shrinking percentage of seniors are plagued by hypertension, arteriosclerosis and dementia. Moreover, researchers have found that the oldest of the old often enjoy better health than people in their 70s. The 79 centenarians in Perls's New England study have all lived independently through their early 90s, taking an average of just one medication. And when the time comes for these hearty souls to die, they don't linger. In a 1995 study, James Lubitz of the Health Care Financing Administration calculated that medical expenditures for the last two years of life--statistically the most expensive--average $22,600 for people who die at 70, but just $8,300 for those who make it past 100.

These insights have spawned a revolution in the science of aging. "Until recently, there was so much preoccupation with disease that little work was done on the characteristics that permit people to do well," says Dr. John Rowe, the New York geriatrician who heads the MacArthur Foundation's Research Network on Successful Aging. Over the past decade, Rowe's group and others have published hundreds of studies elucidating the factors that help people glide through their later years with clear minds and strong bodies. The research confirms the old saw that it pays to choose your parents well. But the way we age depends less on who we are than on how we live--what we eat, how much we exercise and how we employ our minds.

The Magic of Exercise

Suppose there was a potion that could keep you strong and trim as you aged, while protecting your heart and bones; improving your mood, sleep and memory; warding off breast and colon cancer, and reducing your overall risk of dying prematurely.

Respectable studies have shown that exercise can have all those benefits--even for people who take it up late in life. Experts now agree that most of the physical decline that older people suffer stems not from age but from simple disuse. When we sit all day, year after year, our bones, muscles and organ systems atrophy. But exercise can preserve and even revive them.

When Dr. Ralph Paffenbarger started tracking the health of 19,000 Harvard and University of Pennsylvania alumni back in the early 1960s, many experts thought vigorous exercise was downright dangerous for people over 50. But by monitoring the volunteers' activity levels and health status over the years, the Stanford epidemiologist turned that wisdom on its head. In a landmark 1986 study, Paffenbarger showed that the participants' death rates fell in direct proportion to the number of calories they burned each week. Those burning 2,000 a week (roughly the number it takes to walk 20 miles) suffered only half the annual mortality of the couch potatoes, thanks mainly to a lower rate of heart disease.

The alumni study wasn't set up to gauge the benefits of any particular exercise regimen, but subsequent studies have shown that different activities bring different rewards. Everyone now agrees that aerobic exercise preserves the heart, lungs and brain. And researchers at Tufts University have recently shown that weight lifting can do as much for the frail elderly as it does for high-school jocks. When Dr. Maria Fiatarone got 10 chronically ill nursing-home residents to lift weights three times a week for two months, the participants' average walking speed nearly tripled, and their balance improved by half. Two had the audacity to throw away their canes.

Miriam Nelson, another Tufts researcher, has since shown how a series of simple strength-training exercises could help keep women from resorting to canes in the first place. She recruited 40 volunteers--all past menopause, none taking estrogen--and split them into two groups. Half continued life as usual, while the other half went to Tufts twice a week to pump iron. Over the course of a year, the women in the control group suffered a predictable loss of bone density, but the weight lifters enjoyed slight increases. They didn't lose weight (that wasn't the goal), but they lost fat, and many ended up measurably stronger than their daughters, who were 30 to 40 years younger. Dorothy Barron, who was 64 when she joined Nelson's experiment, says the experience not only remodeled her body but gave her more energy and confidence than she had had since her youth. Five years later, she still lifts weights--and she has added power walking, horseback riding and white-water rafting to her hobbies. When people ask why she pushes herself so hard, she replies, "I'm too old not to."

Eating to Nourish Long Life

We all know that living on fat, salt and empty calories can have a range of nasty consequences, from obesity and impotence to hypertension and heart disease. Yet we seem to forget that there are other ways to eat, and that people who adopt them stay younger longer. George and Gaynel Couron will never forget that lesson. The Sacramento, Calif., couple gave up eating meat back in the early 1920s, when they became Seventh-day Adventists. They eventually strayed from the church and its dietary edicts, but they returned to both in 1943, when George suffered a heart attack. Today he's 100 years old, and Gaynel is 98. They've been married for 81 years and have 14 kids ranging in age from 58 to 80. They have slowed down a bit (they're not planning any more children), but George still takes great delight in growing and eating his own tomatoes, melons, beets, squash and black-eyed peas. As he puts it, "We're still perking along." No one can say exactly what role food has played in the Courons' good fortune, but the age-reversing effects of a plant-based diet are not in question. In controlled studies, San Francisco cardiologist Dean Ornish has shown that a diet based on low-fat, nutrient-rich foods not only prevents heart disease--the Western world's leading cause of early death--but can help reverse it. And other studies suggest that dietary changes could virtually eliminate the high blood pressure that places 50 million older Americans at high risk of stroke, heart attack and kidney failure.

"Hypertension is not an inevitable part of aging," says Dr. Boyd Eaton, an Atlanta-based radiologist who has written extensively on nutrition and chronic illness. "It's a disease of civilization." You wouldn't know that from watching people age in this country. Hypertension afflicts a third of all Americans in their 50s, half of those in their 60s and more than two thirds of those over 70. But preindustrial people don't follow that pattern. Whether they happen to live in China or Africa, Alaska or the Amazon, people in primitive settings experience no change in blood pressure as they age, and the reason is fairly simple: they don't eat processed foods. Dr. Paul Whelton of Tulane University's School of Public Health has spent the past decade tracking 15,000 indigenous Yi people in southwestern China. As long as they eat a traditional diet--rice, a little meat and a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables--these rural farmers virtually never develop hypertension. But when they migrate to nearby towns, their blood pressure starts to rise with age. "Their genes don't change when they move," Whelton says. "Their diet does."

What makes processed food so harmful? Salt is one key suspect. When you subsist mainly on fresh plant foods--as our ancestors did for roughly 7 million years--you get 10 times more potassium than sodium. That 10-to-one ratio is, by Eaton's reasoning, the one our bodies are designed for. But salt is now showered on foods at every stage of processing and preparation (a 4-ounce tomato contains 9 mg of sodium, 4 ounces of bottled tomato sauce nearly 700 mg), while potassium leaches out. As a result, most of us now consume more salt than potassium. "Modern humans are the only mammals that do that," says Eaton, "and we're the only ones that develop hypertension." Correcting that imbalance takes some effort, but it doesn't require moving to the bush. In fact a recent clinical study suggests that dietary changes can reduce blood pressure as markedly as drug treatment, and can produce results in as little as two months. In the study (known as DASH, or Dietary Approaches to Stop Hypertension), researchers at several institutions placed volunteers on one of three diets. Those on a low-fat menu that included 10 daily servings of fresh fruits and vegetables, plus two servings of calcium-rich dairy products, reduced their systolic and diastolic readings by 5.5 mm and 3.0 mm, respectively. And those suffering from hypertension got reductions of twice that magnitude. "We suspected this was possible," says nutritionist Eva Obarzanek of the National Heart, Lung and Blood Institute, the federal agency that sponsored the study. "Now we know the size of the effect."

Researchers have since shown that a simple potassium supplement can bring similar if less dramatic benefits. That's worth knowing, but keep in mind that potassium is just one of countless age fighters found in real food. The antioxidant vitamins in a tomato or a green leaf can help boost immunity and slow the corrosion of aging cell membranes, and the B vitamins may help protect your heart. By eating plants, you also bathe yourself in cancer-fighting phytochemicals, bone-saving calcium and the fiber needed to maintain the colon and modulate blood sugar. Best of all, you can down them by the bushel without getting fat.

Staying Connected and Engaged

Exercise and good food may help keep you going, but successful aging is also a psychological feat. Loneliness, for example, can speed your demise no matter how conscientiously you care for your body. "We go through life surrounded by protective convoys of others," says Robert Kahn, a University of Michigan psychologist who has studied the health effects of companionship. "People who manage to maintain a network of social support do best." One study of elderly heart-attack patients found that those with two or more close associates enjoyed twice the one-year survival rate of those who were completely alone.

Companionship aside, healthy oldsters seem to share a knack for managing stress, a poison that contributes measurably to heart disease, cancer and accidents. Researchers have also linked successful aging to mental stimulation. An idle brain will deteriorate just as surely as an unused leg, notes Dr. Gene Cohen, head of the gerontology center at George Washington University. And just as exercise can prevent muscle atrophy, mental challenges seem to preserve both the mind and the immune system. But what most impresses researchers who study the oldest old is their simple drive and resilience. "People who reach 100 are not quitters," says Adler of the National Centenarian Awareness Project. "They share a remarkable ability to renegotiate life at every turn, to accept the inevitable losses and move on." Merle McEathron knows all about accepting losses. She's 102 today, but she was just 7 when she found her mother dead on the floor at her childhood home in Vincennes, Ind., felled by a heart attack. As the oldest girl in the family, Merle had to raise her baby sister and take over cooking and cleaning for her father and two older brothers ("I stood on a box to reach the range," she recalls). She married at 15, but her man left her at 25, so she started a general store and worked there long enough to put both of her sons through college. The boys were grown by the time World War II came along, but she found other ways to stay busy. She worked as a house mother at the Cadet Club, a military social center, where young airmen took her flying in small warplanes after hours. And when the war ended, she got in her Buick and headed for Arizona.

She was 51 years old by the time she hit Phoenix, but the move brought many adventures, including three more husbands. After dumping one (a dance-hall sax player with a roving eye) and outliving the others, she moved herself into the Eastern Star retirement center to avoid getting lonely. A doctor assured her she would never walk again when she broke her leg four years ago, but she got herself a walker, made her way down to the exercise room and worked the injured limb until she could get around on a cane. Then she threw away the cane. She now walks a mile and a quarter each day, and every September she travels to Indiana for a reunion at the Cadet Club. When she gets there, she climbs over the wing of a restored World War II training plane, crawls into the cockpit behind the pilot and rides that baby into the sky.

With Anne Underwood and Mary Hager
Newsweek 6/30/97 Lifestyle/How to Live to 100

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I emphasized the entire last section because I read this article a long time ago, but I still think about that woman regularly. Screw what the doctor tells you! Such quacks.