February 1, 2007--Supercentenarians
Since there is a considerable age difference between Rona and me, which we do not need to go into right now, I promised her that I would live to 110 so that she would not be alone in her old age. And since my mother is rapidly approaching 99 and her two sisters made it into the hundreds (102 and 101 respectively), I thought, with all the advances in medical science, 110 for me seems realistic. In fact, on one especially romantic evening (before I fell asleep at 9:30—a normal hour for someone my age), I said to Rona that instead of hanging on until 110, maybe I’ll just stay alive until I’m 120.
This seemed like a good plan until I read about Emma Faust Tillman. She died earlier this week and until then had been the oldest person in the entire world. What struck me was not just that she was born of parents who had been slaves or that she had 22 brothers and sisters, four of whom lived to at least a hundred, or that she had 16 great-great-great-grandchildren; what shook me up was that when she died as that oldest person, she was a mere 114 years old. (NY Times obituary linked below.)
Growing up during the Cold War, when all aspects of life were contested—the number of nuclear warheads foremost among these; but also including comparative annual economic growth rates (which was a placeholder for the ideological competition between capitalism and communism); the quality of Olympic atheletes, especially female shot-putters; and even in dispute was which country was home to the oldest people on earth.
In this competition, the USSR appeared to win hands down, what with all those Armenians, I think they were Armenians, living until at least 120 because they ate a particularly nutritious version of yogurt available only under the communist system. I still remember the pictures of these withered but still vigorous 125 year-olds. It appeared that there was a Yogurt Gap as wide as the Missile Gap.
But then, of course, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, in addition to discovering that their missiles didn’t work and that their economy was bankrupt, we also found out that their ancient Armenians only looked old (as the result of the hardships of living under the communist system) when in fact they were more likely 60 than 120.
Another blow to my intention to live to 120 is the fact, also revealed in the Emma Tillman obit, is that there may never have been anyone to make it to that age. I learned that there are just 84 supercentenarians (folks 110 or older) currently alive. Out of how many billion people? Five? Six? So what are the odds of my getting that far? As I do the math, it isn’t looking very good for me.
OK, I’ll settle for 109.
This seemed like a good plan until I read about Emma Faust Tillman. She died earlier this week and until then had been the oldest person in the entire world. What struck me was not just that she was born of parents who had been slaves or that she had 22 brothers and sisters, four of whom lived to at least a hundred, or that she had 16 great-great-great-grandchildren; what shook me up was that when she died as that oldest person, she was a mere 114 years old. (NY Times obituary linked below.)
Growing up during the Cold War, when all aspects of life were contested—the number of nuclear warheads foremost among these; but also including comparative annual economic growth rates (which was a placeholder for the ideological competition between capitalism and communism); the quality of Olympic atheletes, especially female shot-putters; and even in dispute was which country was home to the oldest people on earth.
In this competition, the USSR appeared to win hands down, what with all those Armenians, I think they were Armenians, living until at least 120 because they ate a particularly nutritious version of yogurt available only under the communist system. I still remember the pictures of these withered but still vigorous 125 year-olds. It appeared that there was a Yogurt Gap as wide as the Missile Gap.
But then, of course, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, in addition to discovering that their missiles didn’t work and that their economy was bankrupt, we also found out that their ancient Armenians only looked old (as the result of the hardships of living under the communist system) when in fact they were more likely 60 than 120.
Another blow to my intention to live to 120 is the fact, also revealed in the Emma Tillman obit, is that there may never have been anyone to make it to that age. I learned that there are just 84 supercentenarians (folks 110 or older) currently alive. Out of how many billion people? Five? Six? So what are the odds of my getting that far? As I do the math, it isn’t looking very good for me.
OK, I’ll settle for 109.
posted by Steven Zwerling at
9:47 AM
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