Gigi (1903-2008)

Gigi is short for great-grandmother, but instead of spelling it G.G. as the abbreviation would imply, our Gigi signed her cards "G-i-g-i" like the 1958 romantic comedy Gigi.

Gigi was one of the few people who could declare, "Darling, you look stunning" and not sound like a complete phony.

We all know Gigi was very interested in her appearance and kept a strict beauty shop schedule. She always put herself together, even when no one was around, because it made her feel good. She would never be caught dead even in the privacy of her own house in a pair of torn sweat pants and an unflattering t-shirt. She wanted to look good, period. But this aesthetic and fashionable quality wasn't without a balanced depth of spirit. She read books by the Dalai Lama and talked with my Mom about various meditation techniques. She felt a deep, spiritual undercurrent of life.

She would not like me saying so, but since we're interested in her secrets of aging well and staying alive, I'll share one of hers that seems to be one of the most important. She liked herself. She thought she was "really something," and genuinely got a kick out of herself. If you don't like yourself, how can you have any fun? And when reflecting upon her life, she would usually end the story or conversation by saying, "I had so much fun."

"Listen sweetheart," she said in that calm, measured voice, "Take care of yourself. Don't worry about anything. Just take what you have in your interlude of life, accept it and feel good." She was somehow able to avoid stress, which doubtlessly helped her get to 104. Of course genetics played a part (thank God), but she very rarely, if ever, got herself overly worked up or frazzled over the nonsense of life. She conserved her energy. I try (try) to apply her behavioral skills in my own life…live life with a light touch, don't get upset, etc. Be calm. (!!!) Easier said than done, but for the most part, she did!

Gigi kept up with the times, never lamenting "the good old days," but rather living from moment to moment, owning this era as much as the 20's, 30's, 40's, or 50's. She was not threatened by change; she embraced it. She did not fear the future; she took part in it. She read the paper everyday without fail. She loved watching presidential debates and engaging in world events. Last I heard she was on the fence between Hillary and Obama. She knew that age was in the mind.

She used to say she was "from the horse and buggy days." As a writer, I loved spending time with her because of her antiquated vernacular…I often wrote down the little phrases she said, like, "He was a real stage-door Johnny," which refers to "an audience member, often shy and unadventurous, who is infatuated with a performer, and who hangs around the stage door in hopes of getting an autograph and striking up a conversation. (See also groupie.)" Without a doubt, she was referring to one of her many suitors.

"Boy, I hope you won't be like me," she said in one conversation. "Too many men." She then confessed, "I had a lot of men who were in love with me." But it might have also worked the other way around…she readily fell in love, as her progression of last names can attest. Having a steady stream of crushes and flirting into her 90's and beyond was literally what kept her blood pumping. And if you happened to have an M.D. behind your name, look out. Her latest mini-crush was my boyfriend Barry's father Les, a doctor. He walked into her hospital bedroom last week, and she sat right up, flashed her winning smile with a brilliant gleam in her eye, and told him what a marvelous sense of humor she felt he had.

"Find a man who can dance," she warned. "It's so important. You have to make a man feel as if he's ten feet tall." She said that being in love is what kept her alive. She was in love with life. She was in love with the sunshine, the warm weather, her lemon tree…if she liked a particular restaurant she had discovered, she would report, "Oh, I have such a crush on Café Bijou." She lived in love.

Without a doubt, Gigi's life was full. She packed in as much as she could by fully living each moment. Last week, Barry remarked that Gigi seemed to have absolutely no fear of dying. She was ready for whatever was coming next. She said she wanted to just "float away on a cloud." In her later years she worried that she would "just keep going on and on and on…"

Of course her Energizer Bunny batteries finally did run out. But we have been fortunate enough to experience the steadfastness of her presence for so many years. It seemed as if she would always be here, like an ageless Yoda reclining on a chaise lounge under a kumquat tree, with a pouffy hairdo and coral painted nails. A visit with Gigi felt like she was bestowing a simple blessing; may you, too live a long, healthy, vibrant, and beauty-filled life.

When the generation above you passes on, it feels as if you're getting a job promotion, or a life promotion…you're moved one notch higher up on the chain. Maybe this is what "growing up" refers to. A few months ago, my godfather lost his mother, who was around 102. I wrote to him this week to let him know about Gigi, and his wise response applies to all of us. He wrote, "Her life force now becomes your life force. Be the Gigi for those around you. And that will not just do her proud, but ensure that her legacy is your legacy."

So I wish all of us lengthy, healthy, vibrant, and beauty-filled lives. And as Gigi always said when ending a conversation, "Just be happy."