By the end of this year I’ll turn 57, which to some is still “a young whippersnapper” but to others I’m “old as dirt.” To me it’s hard to believe how quickly the years seem to fly by now. Having recently celebrated the commemoration of the “bombing” that rocked Checotah 40 years ago, 40 years ago seems like a very long time ago some days, yet it doesn’t other days because I can still remember being that 16 to 17-year-old girl.

Turning 16 is usually a pivotal time in one’s life. I remember many details of when I turned 16. I remember shopping for the perfect dress that was soft peach and a size 2 if that to fit my whopping 98 pounds. I also remember finding these gorgeous leather pumps that were $68 (why I remember that is because they matched my birth year and back then $68 for anything wasn’t cheap) so I had to beg to get them. Once home I laid everything out on my bed and admired my beautiful outfit for my 16th upcoming birthday party. It was perfect in my eyes, yet little did I realize then, that so was being young. Oh how I miss that youth today!

Nevertheless, the older I get, the more I realize that slowly but surely we are all getting older each year and slowly but surely becoming a part of history, whether we like it or not. I guess it really isn’t a bad thing but generally we don’t stop and think about how we are documenting our history along the way. it is something we should think about though and try to document as much as we can, because who better to tell your life’s story than yourself.

I can look back now and realize the significance of 1968. It was a year of political turbulence, marking the end of the Kennedy-Johnson presidencies. It was also the pinnacle of the civil rights movement to abolish racial segregation and discrimination in our country, the beginning of Women’s and Gay rights for everyone to have a voice, and the beginning of the end of the Vietnam War, which reshaped US foreign policies to include the passage of the War Powers Act to limit presidential authority. So truly 1968 in my eyes was a pretty significant year, not just because of all the changes, but because I came along on December 30.

In my years of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” I have been blessed to have wonderful examples of strong women to follow. Not only have I had strong women of faith around me, but also I’ve been raised by strong women who have embraced their independence and proven their longevity compared to most of the men in my family. Most were also proud of their age and not afraid to tell it.

My great grandmother, Pluma Minna (Packham) Stumpff, lived to be almost 102 years old, outliving her husband, Gilpin Frick Stumpff, by 33 years. Though my maternal grandfather was successful in real estate construction and oil and gas for 35 years, even celebrating his 50th wedding anniversary the year before he passed away in 1969 at 69 years of age, it was my grandmother who carried on and kept going.

This remarkable woman was a lady full of grit and grace who had one son, my grandfather Eugene (her “Genie Boy”), and seven daughters: Madalyn, Jamie, Libby, Carol, Janice, Pat and Donna, who I was named after. Even after my grandfather’s death, my grandmother would continue living life to the fullest and loving people to the best of her ability, to include driving the church bus around her neighborhood to pick up the “little, old people” which she did until she was 92. Ironically at the end of her life with 24 grandchildren, 47 great grandchildren, 14 great great grandchildren and 2 great great great grandchildren, spanning six generations, she made everyone feel special and like they were “her favorite.”

I tell all this to show one woman’s life that spanned over 101 years of different presidents, monumental social changes and unwavering faith. She was kind, compassionate, witty and honest. Most of all, she was godly. She made her mark in history and even at her 100th birthday celebration former Gov. Mary Fallin honored her and her late husband in the development of Bethany, OK. I say all this to show that every day we are writing history and becoming part of that history. That’s why it’s so important to not just remember significant events but document them as well because one day someone may want to read your story and who better to tell it than you.