Here's a little short one for Charlotte.
Charlotte broke her hip when she was 89, she lived to be 92.
And she, I'm sorry.
She lived to be 102.
Hazel lived to be 92.
And she got over it quickly, the breaking the hip.
But in the meantime, I wrote this little poem for her.
I went over when I was caring for my father for three months.
When he died I went over to visit her often.
She was then living with her oldest son and his wife.
And the first time I found her up high,
high on a ladder on the apple tree picking apples.
And I scolded her and she said, "Oh, Dick, you're
acting like Hazel."
So I didn't try to keep her out of the apple tree.
One time when she was about 85 I guess, she loved my little--
I had a little Triumph convertible, she loved it.
Because you put the top down, go fast, and her hair would blow
and she liked that.
So we'd been driving around and we stopped at a drugstore
to have a milkshake and she said, "Well, I
don't want to go in, I only have on my house slippers."
And I said, "Grandma, you're acting like Hazel."
[LAUGHTER]
And so she said, "OK."
So we went to the drugstore and had a milkshake
and we came out.
And a fire truck went by, zoom, and then
another one right after it, and then we looked down the street
and saw just about in the next block smoke coming out
of a building.
And so we couldn't resist.
I grabbed her hand and we started
running down the street.
And suddenly, it dawned on me, I'm
running down the street with my 85-year-old grandmother
in her house slippers chasing a fire engine.
I wonder how many people have done that.