September 8, 2026

As I and my contemporaries turn to the age of ninety and beyond, my thoughts turn to the inevitable one hundred. Mister Know-it-all Google says the proper term is “centenarian” and I picture the stooped or more likely seated in a wheel chair, sadly diminished person, blowing out the inevitable 100 candles.

My first impulse is to call the stalwart person who has reached 100 a “centurion”, a brave officer of the Roman army and battle ready. If not “centurion”, then “centian” or “prescientor” (one who tells the future, not too hard, haha) or “abscenturion” absent on several levels. At any rate, many books have been written about the last ten years of one’s life, how to keep exercising, communicating and being involved, while I myself cherish the long hours in my recliner, exercising only to reach the kitchen, communications restricted to the internet and Facebook and getting involved in nothing.

Forget “Long live the . . . ! Not going to happen. Or “Happy Birthday and many more!”. Not that many. It’s extra innings for this ball player . Play ball!