We met Mr. Laverne F. Curtis at Muskallonge State Park in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. He was camping with our friends Gerald and Carolyn Branch and their children, Becky and Brian. The four Branches camped in their pop-up camper and Mr. Curtis along with his daughter, Joyce, camped nearby in a tent. Mr. Curtis is 94 years old and is Carolyn's grandfather. His daughter is Carolyn's 65- year-old mother. Mr. Curtis loves to camp, explore, swim, dance, walk, hike, read, and loves roller coasters (he last rode the Blue Streak at Cedar Point, Ohio, when he was 90). He acts and looks like a much younger man. When asked to what he attributed his longevity, he said that he didn't know. His  father died of cancer at 26. 

Breakfast for most of his life has been an egg, oatmeal, toast, and coffee. He walks at least two miles a day, but when he is at his home in Florida, he prefers to do his walking at night (10-11 p.m.) when it is cooler. Until just recently, he rode a bicycle daily. He seldom goes to bed before midnight and likes to get up early. He proved that while camping by staying with us until the campfire was only a glow each evening and being "up and at 'em" bright and early each morning. And that was after spending cold (45 degree) and sometimes rainy nights in the tent. He walked the stoney beaches of Lake Superior, searching for pretty stones, or good kindling for the campfire and was an asset to the men's Boccie ball team (they won all the games). 

Mr. Curtis has lived alone in St. Petersburg, Florida, since 1957 when he became a widower. His wife was an invalid for 17 years before her death and he took complete care of her. When he is at home, he eats lunch out everyday and usually at a buffet so he can have a wide variety of foods. In the evening he just fixes a snack. He comes up to Michigan in the summer to visit his only daughter, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. 

Most campers I know, like to fish. Not Mr. Curtis. "No time for fishing," he said. He is too busy. He left Muskallonge early Saturday morning to head back to Lansing (six-hour drive) because he wanted to go to his Saturday night dance in Holt. He goes every Saturday night, dances from 9:30 to midnight then drives back to his daughter's home. Dancing is his first love and he is fussy about his partners. If he asks a woman to dance and finds she is not a good dancer, she won't get asked by him again. When asked if he had ever thought about remarrying, he gave an emphatic, "No." 

Just this last spring, Mr. Curtis had trouble breathing during a weekend. He waited until Monday morning, drove himself to the doctor's office, was immediately sent to the hospital and put into ICU. He had had a massive heart attack. You certainly wouldn't know it to look at him now. It was delightful to talk with him and hear stories of his childhood and the years before his wife had a stroke. He was born July 18, 1896, in Marshall, Michigan. For a little while after WWI, He worked for Reo Motors but didn't like that. He became a postal employee and kept that job until retirement. 

One night while we were camping, Mr. Curtis left the campfire at 9:30 p.m.. Everyone thought he had gone for a walk. When he hadn't returned by 10:30, the family became worried and were ready to go searching for him. Just then, he nonchalantly walked into the campsite. Joyce greeted him with, "Daddy, where have you been?" He was quite surprised at her concern and explained rather indignantly that he had been in the rest room reading his book. Since he only had four more chapters to go, and it was dark out, he simply went where there was light. What a neat gentleman! 

Post script: In 1995 (at 98 1/2) he was finally unable to live alone. He was driving until he was 98 and still went dancing as often as he could. While living at an assisted living place in Michigan (near his daughter's home), he went for walks every morning. On one of those early morning walks, he was struck and killed my a hit and run driver. He graced this earth for just 6 months short of 100  years.