From Layoff to 7 Continents Week 4: My Grandfather Lived to 106; His Life Lessons
My grandfather lived to 106.
Not quietly, either.
He was a WWII veteran, a world explorer, a brother, a son, a husband, a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, a hero.
By the time I knew him well, he had already lived through more than most people read about.
He also hated being called grandpa.
Every time I would say, "Hi Grandpa," he nag and say, "Don't call me that. It makes me feel old. I'm young at heart."
He truly is the epitome of youth.
Even at 106, he was still the stubborn, youthful soul who will always remain in my heart.
“You need adventure in your life!”
I can still hear my grandfather saying that even in heaven.
This was the first of two things he said often enough.
He didn’t offer it as advice.
He offered it as a nag that I ALWAYS heard.
Jump out of airplanes.
See the world.
No one ever told me to do these things except for him.
It didn't matter if I walked past him smiling or having a cup of tea with him.
Adventure was his name and he emphasized the importance of it.
He meant it as a requirement, not a luxury.
Adventure wasn’t the reward you got after the serious business of life was handled.
It was part key to longevity.
“Live life fully”
The second lesson.
Again, not advice.
My grandfather always sought out adventure.
To him, adventure thrilled him and made him feel alive.
He shared that wisdom with me.
To live life fully.
To have hope when times were rough.
He wore a shirt on his 106th birthday that said “Not Old, Just Retro.”
That tells you most of what you need to know about his relationship with age.
What a man who lived to 106 understood about time
Here’s the thing I keep returning to.
Someone who lives 106 years has lived through a lot.
If anybody had earned the right to postpone things — to say later, next year, once things settle down — it was him.
He didn’t.
He went places.
He stayed curious.
He kept showing up for everything that mattered to me.
My graduations.
My wedding.
He showed up when I needed a friend.
He showed up when I was celebrating.
No matter what was happening, he was there.
Even small moments.
Laying out on beaches.
A cup of "Tea and Sympathy."
I remember when he went to the hospital after he turned 106.
He fell and needed to have emergency surgery.
He didn't respond well afterwards, I thought he wouldn't make it.
Days later, I hear he wowed everyone at the hospital when they saw him walking around.
This is my grandfather.
Defying odds.
Having hope.
The lesson isn’t that he had plenty of time.
It’s that having plenty of time didn’t make him treat any of it as spare.
Why I’m sharing this
Three years ago I was laid off.
The goal I set afterward — all seven continents — was not a reasonable one for someone in the middle of a career disruption.
It was expensive, it was logistically complicated, and there were a hundred sensible reasons to wait until things were more settled.
I set it anyway.
I’ve thought a lot about where that came from, and I keep arriving at the same place.
When my hero, my grandfather, who was like a father in a lot of ways, spends 106 years treating adventure as a requirement rather than an indulgence, it rearranges what you think is allowed.
He never told me to go to all seven continents.
He just made it look like the obvious thing to do.
He always wanted me to see the world.
When I had 3 dreams about him after he passed, in every single one of the dreams, he fussed at me saying, "You need to go to Antarctica."
I had no choice but to make it happen.
The part about midlife
There’s a version of midlife where you quietly stop setting ambitious dreams.
Not through any decision — nobody announces it.
The timing is never quite right.
There’s a mortgage, a career, a spouse, children, obligations, and a sense that the window for doing big things closed sometime in your thirties.
Grandpa Al never lived that way, neither do I.
That’s most of what Dream Worldtrotter is about.
Not travel for its own sake.
The idea that the window doesn’t close — that you can be in the middle of your life, or near the end of it, and still have somewhere you haven’t been.
He proved it for 106 years.
I’m just taking notes.
In a few weeks
South America, then Antarctica.
The last two.
I’ll be carrying his spirit with me, which sounds like something people say and in this case is simply accurate.
The dream exists because of him.
If there’s someone who taught you how to live life fully, now is a good time to tell them.
And if they’re gone, it’s a good week to do the thing they’d have told you to do.
You need adventure in your life.
Live life fully.
He’d want me to say it twice.
Allison Coleman is the founder of Dream Worldtrotter, where travel is transformation.
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