Long Life

Martin R. Delany is one of the most interesting people you've never heard of. He was, over the course of a long life (1812-85), a writer, editor, abolitionist, Harvard medical student, physician, judge, acquaintance of John Brown, and the first African American commissioned a major in the Army. He is also widely considered America's first black nationalist, the forerunner of Marcus Garvey, Paul Robeson, and Malcolm X. But unless you're a close student of African American history or 19th-century American literature, chances are very good that you don't know much about Delany, who stands in the long shadow cast by Frederick Douglass, Booker T. Washington, and W.E.B.

You haven't really lived until you've done Hershey Park on a Sunday in June with the heat index hovering in the three digits, most of your in-laws in tow (five kids, eight grown-ups), and enough noise, humidity and junk food to turn even the gentlest soul into a Jerry Springer guest. This is how I spent a recent Sunday. And in spite of my being practically drowned on a wild rapids ride and almost tossing my cookies on the Tilt-a-Whirl, it was pretty much exactly what one of these days should be: fun and exhausting.

At the beach house in Brant Beach many years ago, we were reminiscing about early childhood. One of our guys claimed he could remember suckling at his mother's breast. No one believed him, especially when he added that he had a faint recollection of swimming in amniotic fluid. Yet he turned out to be a fearless swimmer in the rough surf of the Atlantic - perhaps because of his alleged long experience. I can remember nestling at my mother's breast and reciting the Hail Mary in Italian with her (Mom never learned to speak any English except "hello" and "goodbye")

One-hundred-and-nine-year-old Bertha Cole, wearing a bright pink ribbon in her white hair, sank her chin into her chest and nodded off in her wheelchair in the common room of the Mount Holly Center. Visitors leaned over her and shouted questions into her ear, and she didn't move. How old are you? "I don't know, honey," she said, yawning. But a mention of her church, the Broad Street United Methodist Church in Burlington City, instantly made Cole alert. Her eyes widened and her toothless mouth opened to speak.

William S. Rile, 101, of Gwynedd, a former engineer who studied the post-retirement fates of colleagues at Bell of Pennsylvania in an effort to discover the key to a long life, died Nov. 16 at Foulkeways, a retirement community. Mr. Rile had worked at Bell of Pennsylvania (now Verizon) for 42 years when at age 60 he reached the company's optional retirement age. He couldn't decide whether to stay or go. He wanted to live a long life and wondered whether continuing to work or retiring was the better idea.

Martha Miller has never had a car. Never learned to drive, in fact. "And I get everywhere I need to go," the diminutive 74-year-old says with a smile. It's no surprise that Miller always finds a way. It is a recurring theme in her long life of quiet accomplishment. Amid the chronic drug traffic and attendant crime of a struggling, low-income corner of lower Bucks County, the softspoken great-grandmother has, for a quarter-century, found ways of bringing hope to thousands of needy children and adults.

The answer was as simple, honest and direct as the man himself. Before the celebration/love fest at the New Central Baptist Church to mark his birthday had even begun yesterday, before the best wishes delivered personally by Mayor Rendell and U.S. Rep. Chaka Fattah, before the reading of greetings and citations sent by President Clinton, Gov. Ridge, City Council, the Pennsylvania Senate and House of Representatives, before the gifts, the speeches...

When Frederick K. Bayer entered public service 30 years ago, he knew it would be a lifetime commitment. Just as his grandfather and father before him, Bayer has dedicated much of his adult life to serving his community - choosing not to leave the town but to stay and see it grow. And he has been an integral part of its growth from a largely commercial town to a professional hub of lawyers, judges, and title and insurance companies surrounding the county Justice Complex. Three generations of Bayers have made their impact on the city: Bayer's grandfather Frederick L. Bayer served on the City Council in the early 1900s, and his father, Frederick L. Bayer Jr., operated a successful moving business that Bayer later took over.

LENORA BERSON was a woman who just couldn't sit still. When her son, Assistant District Attorney Peter Berson, was asked to recount his mother's activities through her long life, he started out with "billions" and wound up with "trillions. " Slight exaggerations, of course, but it demonstrates how busy this woman was over the more than eight decades of her life, and just how many of those activities helped shape the city's political, sociological, cultural and artistic communities.

DELRAY BEACH, FLA . - It was like in "The Graduate," where aimless Benjamin Braddock was given life advice by Mrs. Robinson's tight-jawed husband. "Plastics," the man said confidently and confidentially. The audience laughed, but screenwriter Buck Henry's advice was actually sound. Around the time the movie came out in 1967 my father was given one-word investment advice by Hy Federman, a vice president of the Amalgamated Bank: "Municipals," said Hy, confidently but not confidentially.

Martin R. Delany is one of the most interesting people you've never heard of. He was, over the course of a long life (1812-85), a writer, editor, abolitionist, Harvard medical student, physician, judge, acquaintance of John Brown, and the first African American commissioned a major in the Army. He is also widely considered America's first black nationalist, the forerunner of Marcus Garvey, Paul Robeson, and Malcolm X. But unless you're a close student of African American history or 19th-century American literature, chances are very good that you don't know much about Delany, who stands in the long shadow cast by Frederick Douglass, Booker T. Washington, and W.E.B.

DELRAY BEACH, FLA . - It was like in "The Graduate," where aimless Benjamin Braddock was given life advice by Mrs. Robinson's tight-jawed husband. "Plastics," the man said confidently and confidentially. The audience laughed, but screenwriter Buck Henry's advice was actually sound. Around the time the movie came out in 1967 my father was given one-word investment advice by Hy Federman, a vice president of the Amalgamated Bank: "Municipals," said Hy, confidently but not confidentially.

We've managed to acquire a remarkable family Hanukkah gift: a ship's manifest, an official passenger log that tracks my late mother-in-law's voyage to America in 1920. It's a taproot to family history, part of our clan's collective "Coming to America" story. Had she not made that voyage, nothing would be the same. Hinda Rubache came to these shores and through Ellis Island as a young woman of 22. She sailed from the city of Minsk in Russia, though her immigration papers say Poland because of the ever-changing borders.

LILLIAN DAVIS O'DANIEL celebrated her 100th birthday on Sept. 1. The West Philadelphia native devoted her long life to education. She died Sept. 8. She lived in West Philadelphia. Lillian was born in Philadelphia when Theodore Roosevelt was president. She was raised in Boston but returned to Philadelphia to attend the University of Pennsylvania, where she received degrees in education. She joined Delta Sigma Theta sorority, and married the late Therman O'Daniel. Both taught in schools in Baltimore.

BERNICE Smith-McDowell felt there was something missing in her life. As she reached her senior years, this woman who had done so much for others through a long life felt a vacancy in her own life. There was a spiritual need that she had not been able to fill at the various churches she had tried. The fulfillment just wasn't there. Then her daughter Patrecea Smith suggested she try her church, True Word Ministry, at 1719 Federal St., South Philadelphia, a little nondenominational church that always seemed to need painting and patching, described by its own pastor as a "hole in the wall.

Martha Miller has never had a car. Never learned to drive, in fact. "And I get everywhere I need to go," the diminutive 74-year-old says with a smile. It's no surprise that Miller always finds a way. It is a recurring theme in her long life of quiet accomplishment. Amid the chronic drug traffic and attendant crime of a struggling, low-income corner of lower Bucks County, the softspoken great-grandmother has, for a quarter-century, found ways of bringing hope to thousands of needy children and adults.

LENORA BERSON was a woman who just couldn't sit still. When her son, Assistant District Attorney Peter Berson, was asked to recount his mother's activities through her long life, he started out with "billions" and wound up with "trillions. " Slight exaggerations, of course, but it demonstrates how busy this woman was over the more than eight decades of her life, and just how many of those activities helped shape the city's political, sociological, cultural and artistic communities.

SOME MIGHT find a kind of irony in the fact that Mary Coleman's first job was at a school for the blind, because later in life she, too, lost her sight. Being visually challenged did not stop Mary from leading a full and long life, much of it devoted to serving her Baptist religion. Mary Coleman, a matriarch who could be counted on to provide spiritual sustenance to family and friends, died Oct. 8. She was 93 and lived in Southwest Philadelphia. She and her late twin brother, Joseph, were born in Robeson County, N.C., the last of the 10 children of John David and Sarah Currie.

BETHEL PARK, Pa. - Pennsylvania's oldest resident has died at the age of 110. Agnes Wetzel was the 21st-oldest American and 56th-oldest person in the world before she died Saturday, according to the Gerontology Research Group in Los Angeles, an age-tracking group. She died of pneumonia. The former Sunday school teacher and longtime member of Bethel Presbyterian Church lived in the Pittsburgh suburb of Bethel Park with her daughter, Bette. Family and friends said she was an excellent cook who got around her house with a walker despite losing her sight more than a decade ago. Bette Wetzel described her mother as "a very kind, gentle person" and "the same wonderful mother from start to finish.

John Wooden, college basketball's gentlemanly Wizard of Westwood who built one of the greatest dynasties in all of sports at UCLA and became one of the most revered coaches ever, has died. He was 99. The university said Wooden died Friday night of natural causes at Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center, where he had been hospitalized since May 26. With his signature rolled-up game program in hand, Wooden led the Bruins to 10 NCAA championships, including an unmatched streak of seven in a row from 1967 to 1973.