It's a magical movie, and not just because of all the long shots of the same Main Street I spent 16 years wandering up and down, or the scenes at the hospital where I was born (half a block from the house on North Elm Street where my family lived for six years).
The members of the chorus—ages 70ish to 90ish—are by turns insightful, hilarious, and inspirational. There's nothing like watching a 92-year-old lady flirt with the cameraman, then learn the words to "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" It changed my perspective on what talent means, and reinforced my belief in the power of performance to sustain energy and spirit.
Like my own Savta says, you have to keep growing new dendrites to keep your mind alive. She came to visit a couple of weeks ago, and all 88 years of her are vibrant. During her short stay, we went to an Annie Leibovitz exhibit, lunched in an outdoor garden, drove to the beach, watched a movie, and met friends for dinner.
Savta is beginning, much to her frustration, to have some medical problems. But she handles them gracefully and has no intention of letting them slow her down: She and a friend have booked tickets this fall to see the fjords, complete with Elderhostels. I hope the Norwegians can keep up.
On the other end of the spectrum, my Grandma Rosa is in the hospital in England right now with pneumonia. She lived in her own home for nearly 90 years, and until recently spent her days almost unassisted. Alzheimer's is taking its toll, though, and we finally have to admit she's older than she ever let us realize. She's in my thoughts all the time.
I understand and appreciate how unusual my grandmas are, and how lucky I am to still have them around. They're the original Young at Hearts—if their amazing genes hold out, I expect to live just about forever.
And I can promise you we'll all go down singing.
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