A Few Thoughts From Aunt Doris: Losing Streaks and Winning Ways

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

Aunt Doris (circa the good ol' days)

Are you one of those people who never win? That’s me!

It didn’t start out that way, though. When I was 12, like all British kids, I entered the National Scholarship and, to my amazement, actually won! (I wasn’t the only one who felt that way — my teachers

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A Few Thoughts from Aunt Doris: Well ... It Didn't Seem Funny at the Time!

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

Aunt Doris (circa the good ol' days)

Every once in awhile, almost everyone says or does something so goofy or dumb that they wish the floor would just open and swallow them whole.

When that happens to you, don’t despair; it will eventually become an amusing incident. Lord knows I’ve had more than a few of

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A Few Thoughts from Aunt Doris: To Be or Not to Be?

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

Aunt Doris (circa the good ol' days)

Being 92 and never really fully recovered from my stroke, I had to give up my driver’s license, which was the biggest blow of all.

Before then, I’d always been a free spirit — I’d jump into my red Corolla, Miss Ruby, and go; wherever and whenever I pleased.

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A Few Thoughts from Aunt Doris: A Cat's a Cat and That’s That

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

Aunt Doris (circa the good ol' days)

A dog will always greet you with eyes glazed with love, and a tail that nearly wags itself off.

A cat merely tolerates you.

My family has always loved cats; I’ve had some great ones too.

The one I remember fondly was an orange colored cat named Taffy.

Every

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A Few Thoughts from Aunt Doris: The Secret to Long Life

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

Aunt Doris

Being 91-years-old, people often ask me: “What’s your secret for getting there?”

My son says it’s fish, tea and vinegar. Maybe; I really don’t know. However, I do have a few do’s and don’ts that can’t hurt if you choose to follow them:

Eat a good breakfast. I always start the day with a

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A Memorial Day Tribute from Aunt Doris: Shaken -- Not Stirred

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

Living in the heart of London during World War II and the Blitz, I came so near to “kicking the bucket” (or as we say, “falling off me perch”) more times than I can count.

A London neighborhood during the Blitz.

When the war started, I was an 18-year-old civil servant working at a big government

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A Few Thoughts from Aunt Doris: The Neighborhood Bully

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

Aunt Doris' wedding photo. (c. 1946)

When I was in my early teens, Mum and I moved from Kensington to Notting Hill in London. (Yes, the same Notting Hill as the Julia Roberts movie.) Mum had bought a small sweet shop in a residential area; aside from a nearby corner pub, there were few other businesses

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A Few Thoughts from Aunt Doris: Do I Know You?

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

Don’t you just hate it when you’re out and someone comes up to you and says, “Hey! Long time no see! How are you doing?”

And then you think: Who are you?

Then they start rambling on while you desperately rack your brain trying to place them: Is he an old school chum? A coworker perhaps?

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A Few Thoughts from Aunt Doris: The Same ... But Different

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

A couple of ripe to-mah-toes.

When I came to this country I said to myself, “At least I don’t have to learn another language!”

Well, yes and no.

Just like there are difference between American and English hand gestures, our languages are slightly different too. There’s the matter of pronunciation.

I say “tomahto,” but you say

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A Few Thoughts from Aunt Doris: The Two-Fingered Salute

This is another post in an occasional series from my dear nonagenarian Aunt Doris.

Winston Churchill saluting the Germans during WWII.

As I’ve said before, the English and Americans do have their differences.

One day, when I was 89-years-old and recovering in the hospital from knee surgery, I noticed an older gentleman using a walker who was passing by my room. Thinking he had the same operation as me I

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