This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Mira Armstrong, a 92-year-old from Porepunkah, Australia. It has been edited for length and clarity.
I built my home with my husband, Bruce, in 1956. Now that I’m 92 years old, I still live independently. I hope I croak it here.
I was born in Poland in 1933 during the Depression. My father was a shoemaker and in the army reserve. When World War II broke out, he was taken prisoner and sent to Germany. My mother, siblings, and I followed.
I got a rough start to life
Life was pretty tough. We lived in a derelict, abandoned farmhouse and weren’t allowed to go to school because we weren’t German citizens. While German children were at school, we’d scavenge at the dump — once, we even found an old gramophone.
Toward the end of the war, I remember hearing American planes overhead. An old German man cycled through our village, sounding a siren as they approached. They never bombed our village, only cities and factories.
I remember watching thousands of British airmen being marched past on foot. They stopped and ate grass because they were so hungry. I wish I knew how to speak English back then, but I didn’t.
We moved to Australia after the war, and things changed
After the war, we were moved from one displaced persons camp to another. Europe was in chaos. We spent some time in Italy, then came to Australia aboard the SS Skaugum. My father got a job in the ship’s kitchen and was finally able to buy toothpaste. We’d cleaned our teeth with ash during the war.
When we arrived in Melbourne on March 28, 1950, I was 17. It felt like heaven. Everything was so strange and unusual. We were finally free.
My family eventually settled in Porepunkah, Victoria, and I met my husband, Bruce, at the local swimming hole. One day, he waited in his truck to pick my sister and me up from work, and that was it. We were married in 1954 — I was 21, Bruce was 24.
Longevity could be hereditary — my mum lived to 97. She was hardworking and survived many hardships, too. But I have also made a few lifestyle choices that may have helped.
Being active has always been a priority
When I was younger, I used to cycle 24 kilometers to and from work, even to church in high heels. I did everything fast, whether it was housework or heaving hay bales around our farm.
When Bruce and I built our house, we dug the foundation holes and the well by hand. We had five kids, and I was constantly busy. I worked in hospitality and retail, never behind a desk. These days, I still walk a lot, mainly around the house and outside, and I like to garden.
I eat a balanced diet, and I don’t drink or smoke
I eat everything — probably because I remember the starvation during the war. Once, we went for four days without food.
For breakfast, I have porridge or Weetabix. I eat soup full of veggies, wholemeal toasties, chicken, fish, and walnuts. There’s not a lot of red meat in my diet.
My vice is fruit, though I have to be careful because I’m borderline diabetic. I never smoked or drank, and I only recently started drinking coffee.
Staying social and volunteering is key
Our home was always social — full of friends and family. I enjoy spending time with my eight grandkids and eight great-grandkids.
I’ve also done a lot of volunteer work: 29 years with Meals on Wheels, 14 years with the op shop, and years of church work. I get bored easily, and I enjoy giving back.
My faith has given me comfort in tough times
Bruce died in 1977 shortly after a trucking accident. He was 47 years old, I was 44.
I still had three boys at home and about 70 cows to manage on our farm. It was a horrendous time, and I went through hell. I did three part-time jobs and took care of everything on autopilot.
After Bruce died, I started cursing God and stopped going to church. Then, in 1992, my youngest son, Graham, was killed in a road accident. It was very difficult, and that’s when I returned to church. My faith has brought me comfort ever since.
I make sure to keep my mind active
I keep my mind active with puzzles and reading. I enjoy thrillers, and hot romances, too. After Bruce died, I’d read romance novels through the night. In the morning, I didn’t even remember what they were about.
These days, I enjoy feeding the birds and gardening. For what it’s worth, these habits may have led to my longevity, and they’ve surely contributed to my enjoyment of life. But my No. 1 tip for a long life? Don’t die!
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