“Here’s the coffee,” Mario said, handing me a cup. “And I got us some johnny cakes. They were sold out of meat pies.”
Mario and I were having a late breakfast from Celi’s Deli on the deck of the Holiday Hotel. As we tucked in to our food an elderly gentleman in wet bathing shorts and tee-shirt took a seat at the table next to ours to drink his coffee. When I nodded to him, he said, “Good morning. It’s a beautiful day.”
“It sure is,” I said. “It’s a great day for swimming.”
“It certainly is for me,” he said. “I just celebrated my eighty-first birthday with a one-mile swim.”
Mario was astonished.
“You’re eighty-one!” he said, in wonder. “How do you keep so healthy?”
“I swim five times a week. It’s great exercise.”
“There has to be more to it than that,” I said. “You must have inherited good genes. How old was your father when he died?”
“Died? Who said he died? He went swimming with me this morning.”
“Good God!” I exclaimed. “How old is he?”
“He’s ninety-nine years old.”
“What about your dad’s father?” I asked. “When did he die?”
“Who said Grandpa died?” the old man asked. “He’s one hundred and nineteen years old.”
I said, “Let me guess. He went swimming with you this morning.”
“No. He’s back home getting ready for his wedding next week.”
Mario said, “His wedding? Why would a man who’s a hundred and nineteen years old want to get married?”
“Who said he wanted to?”
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