103

Mrs. D is 103 years old. This is not a lie. I've seen her birthdate in our synagogue database. Also, she is so pleased with herself for getting this far that she announces her age within minutes of any first conversation.

During Yom Kippur, she arrived at Services with a real babushka covering her hair. It was plastic. Today I saw her caning her way to a bathroom break during her morning study group. I stopped her by the water fountain and said (in that condescendingly horrible too-loud-too-nice tone that shames me when I talk to the wizened or the stooped): "It was so nice to see you yesterday, Mrs. D. Did you enjoy Services?"

She looked at me sort of up and sideways, mobility frozen because of a hunched back, and chuckled. "Yes," she said. "I've decided I'm a believer."

If that's 103, I want IN.