Cheery, pink-clad and petite, Elfreda Anderson doesn鈥檛 look a day over 90.
She is though. Nearly 4,745 days over 90.
In February 2018, Anderson will be 104 years old. Sitting in her scrupulously clean Cloverdale home 鈥� pristine except for the black lines running parallel to the ground where her walker rubs against the walls and doors 鈥� Anderson retells the story of her birth.
It was 1914. The First World War was several months away, and New Brunswick was in the middle of a snowstorm. No doctor could get to the spacious house on the edge of the Bay of Fundy, where a woman was having her third baby: a little girl named Elfreda.
鈥淢y dad had to take over,鈥� Anderson said about the night. Her father was 鈥渄oing pretty good鈥� delivering the baby, until he saw he was having his first girl.
鈥淢y mother said he got so excited it was so he couldn鈥檛 do nothing. And she was shouting at him.鈥� Anderson laughed.
鈥溾�楥ome on, come on. Do this. Do that鈥�,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nyway. I survived.鈥�
鈥淚t was three or four days later the doctor got there and examined my mother and me. And he gave my dad a pat on the back and said, 鈥榃ell sir you did a good job.鈥欌��
It was the start of a long and adventurous life, spanning two World Wars, the Great Depression, the launch of the space race, the creation of Nunavut and the introduction of internet.
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Ask Anderson about her life, though, and you鈥檒l hear about slightly different things. Washing dishes while standing on a chair, because she was too young to reach the counter. Her father buying their first car in 1924, and taking trips to the beach. Her mother falling ill when she was 14, and having to alternate between taking care of the family and going to school.
In her mid-twenties, Anderson went out to Saskatchewan with a friend to visit her aunt and uncle. She didn鈥檛 come home from that trip, as she had fallen in love with a local 鈥減rairie guy鈥� and married him.
Two kids and six years later, Anderson and her husband moved to White Rock. Soon a family of five, they enjoyed a relatively quiet life in Burnaby and Surrey, going to the Rickshaw Restaurant on Friday nights for Chinese food.
At 61, her husband passed away. Not long after, Anderson retired. And then she decided to travel.
It started with a trip back to her childhood provinces on the East Coast when she was 66. At 68, she joined her eldest daughter Donna Phillips and Donna鈥檚 husband Lyle on a trip to Australia and New Zealand.
鈥淚 enjoyed so much of it,鈥� Anderson said of the trip. 鈥淎nd then I couldn鈥檛 stop travelling and I had to keep going.鈥�
Australia. New Zealand. Newfoundland. Oregon. Hawaii. Germany. Scotland. Austria. Denmark. Stockholm. Hong Kong. Singapore. Disneyland. The 鈥淟and of the Midnight Sun.鈥�
鈥淵ou name it, I鈥檝e been there,鈥� she said.
Her most profound trip was to 鈥渢he Holy Land鈥� she said. She went with her church鈥檚 minister and other church members when she was 69.
鈥淭hey served what they called St. Peter鈥檚 fish,鈥� she said about one of the places she ate on her trip. The fish was cleaned on the inside, but its head and tail remained on the plate. Anderson and the man beside her both ordered it.
鈥淪o I鈥檓 looking at it. I said, 鈥楥an you eat that fish?鈥欌�� Anderson said. 鈥淗e says, 鈥楶robably.鈥�
鈥淎nd I said, 鈥榃ell I don鈥檛 think I can 鈥� Mine just winked at me.鈥欌�� Anderson slapped her knee, then laughed.
鈥淎nd so he looked at his again. He said, 鈥楳y golly, I think you鈥檙e right.鈥欌��
Anderson travelled for 20 years, visiting the East Coast once again when she was 98.
鈥淭hat was my last long trip,鈥� she said.
She鈥檚 travelled around B.C. and Alberta into her hundreds, but in the last two years, she hasn鈥檛 gone far.
But 鈥淚 still got my suitcase,鈥� she said. 鈥淚 wore two out, and I got the third one.鈥�
Now, living in her Cloverdale apartment, life is a little more simple.
Her daughter Donna gets her groceries. Donna鈥檚 husband Lyle comes and washes the floors. Anderson cleans the rest of the house, and knits dozens of pairs of slippers.
It might be relaxed and simple now. But, as Anderson said, 鈥渋t鈥檚 kind of a full life isn鈥檛 it?鈥�
editor@cloverdalereporter.com
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