CityView Magazine

10 | June 2020 I put the truck in park right in the middle of the street and walked to the front bumper. Making an attempt at being modest, as opposed to frightening, I said in a reduced tone, "Ma'am, would you enjoy some fresh fish that I caught this morning?" I used a bit too much reduction. "What's that?" she answered pleasantly. So a little louder, I repeated myself exactly. And she said, "Oh, I sure would like some fish." Hot dog! Another customer. "If you will go inside and get a pan or a bag, I will give you as many as you want." She smiled and turned away. I watched her move toward the front porch. is lady was deliberate, and peacefully so, with an air of energy conservation. Something about her made me want to go inside and get the pan for her, so as to save her the steps. is time loudly enough, I hollered, "Ma'am, do you clean fish?" She stopped and turned and wistfully said almost to the shrubbery, "Hmmm, I don't know when I have cleaned any fish." Tom Sawyer did no better at getting his fence whitewashed. "Ma'am, you go get a pan, and I will pull into your driveway and clean you some fish on my tailgate." When she returned, I had scaled, gutted, and decapitated two fish. I had two more to go. As she walked back to me at her own gingerly pace, I attempted to alleviate any suspicions she might have had. "My name is Bill McFadyen. I am your neighbor. I live a mile or so down the road to the right." "My name is Lizzie." en she spelled it – "L-I-Z-Z-I-E Oliver." What she said next arrested my tailgate fish cleaning. "And I am 103 years old." Surely my mouth hung open as I just peered down at her smiling face. "One hundred and three?" repeated I. "Yes," answered she, "and still in my right mind." Miss Lizzie set about proving to me that she was in her right mind. I was fascinated, talking to this breathing American history book. She was born in 1917, during World War I. She went to Armstrong School, where all the black kids went from the east side of town. She was a child during the Great Depression. She was a young adult when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Segregation to integration to whatever state of togetherness we have today. "Who looks aer you?" I asked with concern. "I do mostly," she said. "My daughter lives around the corner, but she has some health problems." ink of it – her daughter is nearly 80! We went on for a pretty long time. I felt like I needed to leave her, but unwillingly. "Miss Lizzie, I hate this coronavirus way more all of a sudden. I just want to hug you. I want to bring my son up here to meet you. I want to sit on your porch and listen to you tell stories. But I can't right now. You need to stay well." irty minutes of a life that had spanned 103 years. So far. It is a marvel. Of all my questions, this is the one that I remember most. "Miss Lizzie, do you think we will get along with each other? We all have the same God, you know." Of all the answers, this one – "We all have God. But if we don't have love, God don't mean that much." My friend built a pond in North Fayetteville. He put in bass and brim and crappie. His dad let me come fishing one Saturday. I caught a mess of fish. ey led me to Lizzie Oliver, age 103. ankfully, she is a woman now a part of my culture. Gates Four DISCOVER WHAT'S BEHIND THE GATES Visit www.gatesfour.com Call 910.425.6667 for membership information

• Cover