That's Elsie, all right.

A lovely lady lives in my neighborhood. About five doors away. Wait. No, she doesn't live there any more. She's moved into a nursing home. Just a few weeks ago. Which happens. Especially when you are 95 years old. And living alone. She's a widow. Husband died many years ago. Anyway, I gotta be sure that I go visit Elsie. That's her name. I haven't had a whole lot of contact with her over the years. But she'd occasionally write me a letter. Or a note. To tell me I'm a nice guy. For taking good care of my wife. When she had Alzheimer's. And I think she likes me. For being forthright. Honest. And I like her for the same reasons. Never afraid to express her opinions. In defense of people. Even coming to the support of people who were criticized by her own family members. Even by her husband. Elsie always was an independent woman. It's gonna be difficult for her. Adjusting to life in a nursing home. But I suspect she's gonna do all right. She's still got her mental faculties. But at 95, she can't do everything she used to do. She needs assistance. But my guess is that she'll make the most of her situation. I wonder why it is that some people are lucky to live so very long. Maybe it's the blessing of good genes. But maybe it's attitude, too. Positive thinking. And just being in love. With life. That's Elsie, all right. --Jim Broede