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If dinner is white bread and sliced processed American cheese, will the nutritionists yell at me? Not if I’m 101-years old.

If dinner is white bread and sliced processed American cheese, will the nutritionists yell at me? Not if I’m 101-years old.

If you’re 101-years old, no one yells at you no matter what you do.

I would love to see the nutritionists study the chemical make-up of the white bread. Let’s have the scientists dissect what’s really in American sliced cheese. Then I would love to have Tony smile and ask them if they wanted to see his artwork in his studio. Where he still works. Although he wouldn’t call it work because, as Tom Sawyer would say, work is a thing that you have to do, but play is a thing that you love to do.*

Spoiler alert: this same 101-year old is going to be the first interviewee on the new Repossible Podcast launching precisely on … the day that it launches.

He’d show them the sketches he’s currently working on (something of a devilish leprechaun) or maybe the fairies he’s drawn in the past. If you stick around, you might get to flip through his album of previous work he did for the Los Angeles Public Library, where he was the designer for all of the 51 branches throughout the county.

He might tell you about the¬†Stradivarius that Andre Rieu talks about in the documentary about the history of that violin. He might tell you about how he got that job as the chief designer for the LA library system while walking down the block on his lunch break from his advertising job. Ask him the secret of a long life. Ask him what keeps him “working” all of these years. What keeps him fit and living in his home with no nurses, caretakers and nothing more than his neighbor who picks up the paper and brings it from the sidewalk to his porch every morning?**

Ask him if white bread and sliced American cheese is the secret to long life. I dare you.

If you're 101, you're allowed to sketch Leprechauns and eat white bread and processed cheese. [sketch table of the artist]

If you’re 101, you’re allowed to sketch Leprechauns and eat white bread and processed cheese. [sketch table of the artist]

* Slightly paraphrased and butchered Mark Twain.
** My mom.

About The Author

Bradley

I don't like to call them excuses. They're priorities. With a handful of exceptions, we usually have a choice in our actions. They just need to be prioritized.

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