My father turned 97 today. 

We celebrated with cake with four candles. 

It’s an incredible span of time. 

Dad remembers the ice box before the family got a fridge with an electric coil on top. And the coal chute that delivered briquets he and his brother shoveled into the furnace each morning.

He remembers bathing once a week in a tub with his brother. They were well off, but lived modestly compared with today.

He remembers the arrival of television and private phone lines. He saw the wreck of the ocean liner Morro Castle in Asbury Park and heard Franklin Roosevelt’s Day of Infamy speech live on radio in his high school auditorium. He saw Jackie Robinson play at Rupert stadium in Newark.

Dad says he has been lucky and it’s hard to argue. He entered World War II just as it was ending and finished serving his three years just as the Korean War was heating up.

He survived the deadliest train derailment in New Jersey history which killed 85 people in 1951.

He bought the house where I grew up and saw it appreciate dramatically in value. 

He had a great job he enjoyed and which allowed him time to coach his kids’ Little League teams and retire with a pension. 

And most of all, he has been happily married to my mom for almost 60 years. 

A lot of his good health has been due to wise choices and good habits.

He rarely drinks and never smoked. 

He exercises daily, either walking around the park or doing chair yoga. When he was younger he swam each night after work and refereed high school soccer. 

He eats a steady diet of meat, potatoes and vegetables, but never snacks or drinks soda. 

He has strong views about everything from how to cut up your pancakes to how to take a shower. But he doesn’t expect or demand others follow suit. 

He doesn’t expend mental energy being judgemental or angry. It’s an underappreciated virtue.

Perhaps most important, and a lesson for the rest of us, is that he keeps busy.

He mends chairs or unclogs the drain or installs pegs in the closet to hang the vacuum. He plays Sudoku. He does not sit around. There is always something to do. 

Even as his eyesight has deteriorated, Dad has compensated by counting the stairs and memorizing the layout of the furniture so he can navigate unassisted.

During the day he uses the bathroom farthest away. It requires him to climb an extra flight of stairs.

Last week, my parents took the train to New York instead of having me drive out and get them.

Take the stairs and take the train.

It’s good life advice. 

Because the easy road is not the long road.