Ethie’s Story
I’m not sure words can do justice to the incredible warmth and wit that fill a room when you meet Ethelena—known to her friends and family as “Ethie.” I could search for a hundred years and use a hundred adjectives and still not find enough words to describe how special she is. From the moment I stepped into her home, I felt completely at ease—like I’d been welcomed by an old friend.
Ethie recently celebrated her 100th birthday, and she does it with more spirit and grace than most people half her age. Her milestone weekend was a whirlwind of joy: from her cousin visiting from Canada, to a big celebration at her community center where friends surprised her by dressing in 1920s flapper attire, and a family lunch the 
following day. Laughing, she told me, “I couldn’t imagine where they found those outfits!” Her friends had the perfect reply: Amazon. “There’s nothing in this world you can’t get on Amazon,” she chuckled.
Though she’s lived in Reading for over 70 years, Ethie’s heart still belongs partly to Canada, where she was born. She reminisced fondly about her travels—especially a favorite journey by train from Toronto to Vancouver. “You must visit Niagara Falls,” she insisted when she learned I never had. “Put it on your list!”
At 100, Ethie is bright, quick, and endlessly curious. “My hobbies now?” she laughed. “Just surviving!” But that’s not quite true. She’s an avid reader, a lover of good conversation, and remarkably tech-savvy. Within minutes, she moved effortlessly between her iPad, Kindle, and iPhone, telling me about her online bridge games and the books she’s currently reading. “The Kindle,” she said with a wink, “was one of the greatest inventions for old people.”
She plays bridge on Saturdays with her friends from the senior center—and daily online with “people from all over the world.” “Through my iPad!” she told me proudly. I admitted I was a bit worried about that, but she reassured me with her signature mix of humor and wisdom: “We have manners in bridge. If people don’t abide by them—click!” she said, demonstrating how she swiftly removes anyone who doesn’t play nice.
Ethie is an only child, though she admitted with a grin, “I drove my mother crazy asking for a brother or sister. But I was it.” Her life, however, has been far from lonely. Social, lively, and full of love, she built strong friendships and held them close. “You must have girlfriends!” she insisted. “They are the best.”
It was those girlfriends who colored her memories and carried her through tremendous loss—the passing of her husband and daughter. “It took time to get myself back together,” she said softly, crediting her friends for helping her heal.
She worked for many years at American Mutual in Wakefield—a place she remembers fondly. But it’s clear that her greatest source of pride is her family: her son and three grandchildren, who continue to bring her endless joy.
Living independently at 100, Ethie insists she’s doing “just fine,” though she admits with a smile that she may need “a little more help this winter.” Her caregivers at ABC Home Healthcare assist with just what she needs, and she’s deeply grateful for their support.
“I’ve never been interviewed before,” she told me as she gratefully accepted her bouquet of flowers and added them to her growing collection around the living room. “They’re beautiful,” she said with a smile. But from her excitement during our mini “book club” chat, I suspect the book list I left her before I went may have been even better. “This is wonderful,” she laughed. “You’ll have me reading for days!”
Spending time with Ethie felt like sitting with an old friend. We talked about everything—faith, travel, reading, family, and the small joys that make life rich. We even discovered a special connection: when she first came to this country from Canada, her family settled in the same town mine once had.
“I went to high school there,” I mentioned. “Though that was a long time ago,” I added with a laugh.
“You’re talking to me about a long time ago?” she teased. We both burst out laughing.
Ethie radiates warmth. Her laughter, her sparkle, and the effortless way she makes you feel at home are gifts you don’t soon forget.
When I asked if she had any advice to share after 100 years, she shrugged modestly. “Travel if you can, have faith in God, and take care of yourself,” she said. Then she smiled and added, “I’m just ordinary.”
I looked at her and couldn’t help but say, “Oh, I don’t think you’re ordinary at all. I think you’re pretty extraordinary.”
And she certainly is.
