From thinking young to doing good things for other people, a centenarian reveals the life lessons he's learned in his 100 years. Photo / 123rf
Readers asked centenarians for advice. We put their questions to Jack Weber, 100, a Navy veteran and dentist.
We can learn a lot from people who have lived for 100 years. After asking centenarians from around the world to reflect on what it takes to live a healthy and happy life, Washington Post readers had their own questions - in many cases, seeking advice for the phase of life they’re in.
Readers asked: Who helped you, when you were younger? Do you recommend getting married? How do I best prepare myself for the second half of my life?
We put these questions and more to Jack Weber, 100. The Navy veteran and retired dentist’s 57-year marriage to his late college sweetheart, Betty, gave him five children, 11 grandchildren and 13 great-grandchildren. Here are highlights from our conversation with Weber on how to find meaning in different phases of life, with his remarks edited for length and clarity.
Weber: When I was around 9 years old, my mother Estelle would take me out on a pond that was frozen in the winter and teach me to ice skate. I was very close to her. My dad worked, came home, lit a cigar, sat in his chair, fell asleep; my mother was an athlete, and she taught me to love the outdoors, to love sports. I became a very good ice skater, but I’m not sure if I ever would have started if she hadn’t taught me. She also taught me to play tennis.
It was very unusual for a woman in that age group to be involved in athletics. I’d come home from school and I’d start to do my homework and she would say: “Jack, put the books down. The sun is shining. Go outside and play. When the sun is down, you’ll come in and do your homework.” That was her way of life, and it became my way of life. She used to tell me: “Give me a fresh piece of fruit, and the sun shining in my eyes, and I’m happy as could be.” The other part was, “Get a good laugh and that’s the best part of the day.” She was a remarkable woman who lived to be 99.
I volunteered in the Navy after Pearl Harbor. They said, “We’re not going to send you out to sea. We need men, but we want you to stay in college and then you can serve as an officer.” I met Betty at Oberlin College in Ohio in a biology class where we had to dissect a frog. This young lady came up to me and asked if I would be her lab partner. That was the beginning of our romance. We dated. We fell in love. And she graduated and went on to be a physical education teacher.
She was an athlete. I’m an athlete as well, so we played things together. We played tennis and in later years as I was going out to play golf, she was left home alone and she said: “This is no good. I’m going to learn how to play golf.” So she did. And she was quite good at it.
We shared an awful lot of those things together. Every Sunday would be couples golf at our country club. We played nine holes on Sunday afternoon, then we’d go up to the bar and we’d have a drink, and we would have dinner. She enjoyed that portion of it so much. She loved golf, but she loved the camaraderie that went with it. [Shared interests and values] are what made marriage so enjoyable to me. I didn’t have to fight with her on, ‘I’m going to this and you don’t want to go.' We had so much in common.
In the war years, it was very difficult to get an automobile. But my father called me up one day when I was at dental school [in Cleveland] and said, “I was able to obtain a car for you.” We got to New York, we got the car, and I was planning on driving it back to school and that was a year of this blizzard that hit New York State: 26 inches of snow fell in a 24-hour period. There was no way I could get that car home.
That was just about the holiday time. And my friend said to me: “Jack, you’re stuck here in New York. I’m going to a Christmas party for some friends. Would you like to come and meet them?” I said sure. So Betty and I went to this house party. And in that house were four other couples. I didn’t know them at all. But we became a gang of five friends. We called ourselves GOFF: Gang Of Five Friends. And we became very close. We went to each other’s kids’ weddings, bar mitzvahs. And we travelled a lot together. One of them was a travel agent. He would make arrangements. Unfortunately, I’m the last man standing of those five men. They are all gone.
Today, I see young people walking around on the streets with their [phones] in their hands. And I wonder if they’re spending the best part of their life around that little computer. My advice is open your heart, open your eyes. There’s a whole world out there around you.
I do have regrets. In my younger age, the kids were at home, and I should have spent more time at home with them. I was out too much. I think Betty could have used the help. She never said, “Don’t go.” But I should have balanced it more. She raised those kids by herself. Yes, I was there for emergencies. I was there financially. I was always there for graduations and birthday parties. But I wasn’t there for the little things. And so an awful lot of that credit goes to her. Maybe I should have been there to read a bedtime story to them and help put them to bed.
In the 50s it was a different time for men to participate in family life. You were usually out working, making a living, coming home, having dinner, going to bed. I see now my grandchildren’s spouses spend so much time with their kids. They’re changing diapers! I never changed a diaper.
In 1953, I said to my lawyer that I would like to meet more people in Hicksville, New York, because I was a total stranger there. He said, “I will introduce you to 55 of the finest businessmen in this town.” They were members of the Hicksville chapter of Lions Club International [a service club, then men-only]. I joined that year. They were giving out Thanksgiving baskets. The first doorbell we rang, a young lady answered, with two little kids pulling on her apron strings. Tears are rolling down her eyes as we gave her the basket. I said, “I’ll be back at Christmas time with another basket for you.” As I walked away from her house to my car, I knew this Lions Club was going to be my vehicle to do things for other people.
I have found that helping other people is sort of difficult to do by yourself. Join a good organisation that does that type of thing, and that is the way you can help. I got that from a man in 1954. He was the founder of Lions Club International. One of the bits of advice he gave me was, “You can’t get anywhere in life until you start doing things for other people.” That has been my mantra for all these years. I am fortunate in what life has given to me, and I want to share that with other people.
Don’t let the old man get into your head. Don’t think old; think young. Because that’s what will keep you young. People go around and say, “this hurts, that hurts”. That’s not good. I have aches. I have some pains. But nobody ever hears me talk about them.
I just took the driver’s vision test, and the lady who gave me the test says, “You’re good for another six months. Come back in six months and we’ll check you again.” So I’m still driving my car. Yesterday, I was on the golf course. The sun was shining. I played with some wonderful fellows. I’m enjoying life. If I reach the point - and it probably could come - where I can’t play golf anymore, and I am confined to the house more, that attitude may change. I hope it doesn’t. I don’t try to look too far in advance in life. I play each day, one day at a time. I enjoy that day. Keep a smile on my face. And I don’t let the old man get in my head.
The Herald Travel’s Best Beach competition has hung up its jandals for another year.