About a 107 year old woman in Circleville Ohio. She has outlived her money and people are chipping in $$ to keep her in her residence. They are having a brunch for her this Sunday.
She needs $3,000 per month to pay her rent....... Otherwise she has to move to a medicare paid nursing home?
Self-reliant centenarian
Friday, July 23, 2004
Kristy Eckert
THE COLUMBUS DISPATCH
ERIC ALBRECHT | DISPATCH
"I’m not so darn old that I don’t want to know what’s going on," says Gladys Shepler, who reads daily.
CIRCLEVILLE, Ohio — She’s a Methodist who plays a mean game of euchre, a Democrat with a firm handshake. She’s participated in all but one presidential election since women were granted voting rights. And she doesn’t hesitate to pound her fist to make a point. Ask Gladys Shepler why she reads three newspapers a day. She’ll tell you. "At 107, I’m not so darn old that I don’t want to know what’s going on." Shepler has outlived most of her family, many of her friends. Now, she has outlived her money.
For three months, people in Circleville have pooled their cash to keep Shepler in her $3,000-a-month assistedliving studio apartment.
Without the help, finances would force her to a nursing-home setting, the only thing Medicaid will fully fund.
That would cost her precious independence and privacy. Her friends — many young enough to be her grandchildren — don’t think she should have to leave.
Church friend Clara Belle Dye visits a couple of times a day, helping Shepler with bathing and other necessities.
"I just love to hear her talk," Dye, 67, said. "She’s quite a lady."
On Sunday, her friends will gather for a brunch at the Hamilton Memorial Temple. The fraternal organization Eastern Star is hosting the event to raise money for Shepler, a longtime member.
Self-sufficiency is her tonic, so accepting help is difficult.
"I love it, and I think it’s wonderful. . . . But I just don’t want other people to think I’m an old fool."
Shepler’s age doesn’t top any oldest lists — there are 44 people in the world who are at least 110, according to California’s Gerontology Research Group.
But perhaps she embodies a category all her own. When she drove — until past 100 — she was known for her speed.
Her knees ache and her hearing is poor, but she’s quick-witted and opinionated.
Iraq war? Needs to end, she says.
Bad food? She’ll say so.
She is, after all, known for her cooking, having once contributed 105 homemade pies for her church booth at the Pumpkin Show.
Hard work, she says, is the secret to longevity.
A couple of years ago, she offered to take over when her facility’s dietitian was leaving for a new job. He brought her an application and she filled it out.
When Shepler was laid up in a nursing home to recover from a leg injury, she begged a cafeteria employee to give her work. Folding napkins was all she could get, but she did it.
When the first World War began, Shepler was 17. Six years later, women were granted the right to vote, and she was 39 when the first television show was broadcast. She was 66 when President Kennedy was assassinated.
Born in 1897, she grew up with stern parents and four siblings on a Circleville farm. Their seven-bedroom home still stands on Rt. 23 in Pickaway County.
When she graduated from Ohio University in 1918, she wanted to teach music as a pianist. But one year was enough.
She moved home and dedicated her life to running the farm and caring for her parents. She did it all — harnessed horses, shot rats.
She also loved childhood friend Kenneth "Soup" Shepler. A farmer and carpenter, he, too, cared for his parents.
So they waited until their parents had died before they married. Shepler was 51. Their 25-year marriage didn’t produce children. But they had fun, she recalled.
They traveled the country, from New York to California. They used to play cards but stopped because her husband hated to lose. "I could just beat the pants off him."
After he died, Shepler moved to a smaller home. Another quarter century passed before she moved to Pickaway Manor at 101.
In the resident dining room, Shepler can’t hear normal-toned conversation, but she still manages to entertain her tablemates.
Awhile back, she was upset that she knocked over her water glass. Then she spilled the replacement. When she went to pick up a third glass, she touched it, then paused to warn her companions: "Grab your umbrellas." Shepler’s room is small and warm, filled with family photos. She tats lace in her recliner, avoiding the silver-toned television. Her creations often fetch more than $100. Her last sibling died earlier this year. Within the past few weeks, three of her neighbors have died. She holds back the tears. "I have times when it’s hard, and I sit on the edge of the bed, and just swing my feet and talk." With God. "But I want you to know," she says, "I’m not telling him what to do."
Pretty damn sad she waited until her fifties to marry so she could take care of her parents. She must've had some pretty fucking selfish parents to let her do that. If I was keeping my kids from living live, I'd end myself.
It's a real problem. My wife's grandfather is 93 and is starting to run out of money. He just never expected to live so long. And what if you buy an annuity to ease the risk? Well, how do you know that company will still be around thirty years later? That's why I invented Schillinger's Heroin Theory, and will have none of those problems.
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