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Life lessons from a South Jersey WW II veteran celebrating his 100th birthday: 'Make the most out of every moment'

Philadelphia Inquirer - 4/13/2021

Apr. 13—When asked to share his secret for living a long life, Eddie Hill, 99, responds quickly with a smile: "The good Lord and a good wife."

A farmer, a World War II veteran, an engineer, a husband, and a father, Hill has seen plenty in his lifetime. As he plans to celebrate his 100th birthday on Tuesday , Hill wants to enjoy every day to the fullest by staying active and helping others as long as possible.

"I never expected to reach this milestone," said Hill. "I'm blessed to reach this age.",

"Life was good on the farm. There was no other life," he recalled.

Hill was affectionately known as "Darling" by family and friends. He got the nickname from a great-grandmother who took one look at him when he was born and declared he was too beautiful to be called by his given name, Eddie Walker Hill.

The second-oldest son, Hill dropped out of school in the 10th grade because the family couldn't afford to have two children enrolled at the same time. His father asked Eddie to work the farm full-time so that his olderbrother, Johnnie,could finish high school and then college. He was asked again to delay his education to allow a sister, Thelma, to attend college.

"I never did go back," he said.

Hill enlisted in the Army in 1942 during World War II. He spent time in Germany, England, and France, building bridges and roads. He was assigned to the elite 1695 Engineer Combat Battalion, an all-Black unit with white officers in charge.

"That was the way of life. Whether you liked it or not, there wasn't anything you could do about it," Hill recalled matter-of-factly about the racially segregated military, just like the country was at the time.

While serving abroad, Hill never forgot his family back home, sending letters and a $10 allotment check from his $50 monthly paycheck to his mother. He helped send his sister, Ida, and other siblings to college.

"He's amazing. He was always helping," recalled Ida Clark, 87, of Clinton, Md., a retired schoolteacher and one of three surviving sisters. "He was like a father to me."

After an honorable discharge in 1946, Hill eventually made his way to Newark, N.J., where he worked as a machine operator in a fabric factory, in an auto parts store, and started an auto repair business with a friend. He was fascinated with cars and attended Essex County Vocational School to learn everything about them, from bumper to bumper. He retired from the state as an HVAC engineer in 1990.

He married his first wife, Thelma, in 1947, but she tragically died after an extended illness in 1952. The dashingly handsome widow married again in 1956, "one of the best days in my life," he said. His wife of 60 years, Rudine Daniels, died in 2016. The couple had one son, Howard.

After living in North Jersey for decades, Eddie and Rudine relocated to Beverly in 2008. The couple did everything together and especially enjoyed traveling to Martha's Vineyard and the Poconos. When Eddie was diagnosed with prediabetes, Rudine put them both on healthy diets, a lifestyle that he maintained after her death.

"We had a nice life," he said. "She kept me on the straight and narrow."

These days, Hill maintains his independence — he still drives — and keeps active, running errands for neighbors in his Burlington County retirement community, picking up groceries or transporting them to doctor's appointments. He loves to play cards and Bingo.

Hill relishes the chance to put his gray 2016 Chrysler 200 on the road. On a recent Friday outing at the Moorestown Mall, his nephew Burnett Sanders, 81, of Willingboro, lagged behind as Hill walked briskly through the mall, part of his exercise routine.

"I can't keep up with him walking," said a smiling Sanders.

The patriarch of a large extended family with nearly three dozen nieces and nephews who stay in touch with him via Zoom, Hill makes friends everywhere he goes. There are lots of "Uncle Eddie" stories, like the one where he patiently taught granddaughter Kendall Armstrong how to drive. He also has two other grandchildren, three great-grandchildren, and six great-great-grandchildren. "He's my hero," said Armstrong, 51, of Reading.

It took a team to get him a vaccine before turning 100 It took a team to get him a vaccine before turning 100

"He's just a lovable guy," said a niece, Joy Hill, 63, of Houston, a retired district judge. "He keeps us laughing."

Deeply spiritual, Hill was a familiar face every week for Sunday worship and Wednesday Bible study at Alpha Baptist Church in Willingboro before the pandemic, said his pastor, the Rev. Danny Scotton Sr. His favorite Scripture, James 4:17, sums up how he has tried to live, "If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn't do it, it is sin for them." Hill previously was a trustee and a longtime member of Metropolitan Baptist Church in Newark.

"God bless him. That's all I can say," said church member Nicole Samson of Mount Laurel. "I hope to be like Mr. Eddie."

Hill offered to pick up parishioners for church and volunteered to chauffeur Scotton — he politely declined. Hill had planned to stop driving at age 100, but has recently had second thoughts about putting down his keys. He reluctantly accepted a ride from a church member to get his COVID-19 vaccine.

"He's a great man, just a good soul," said Scotton. But he's not the oldest in the congregation of more than 1,350 members — that title belongs to Rosetta Boyer, 101.

Besides his wife, Hill credits his faith for his longevity. He is the oldest surviving sibling. His advice: "Make the most out of every moment."

"I just think I'm blessed, wonderfully blessed," he said. "I always felt that I was being blessed so I can help others."

Editor's note: An earlier version of the story incorrectly described Ruth Hopson as Philadelphia's oldest resident; a 109-year-old woman recently moved to the city from Montgomery County.

Ruth Hopson didn't flinch as a medical assistant carefully injected her first dose of the COVID-19 vaccine on Friday.

"I'm very happy — I'm going to do the Charleston," she quipped.

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The room's occupants burst into laughter. But she knew what she was talking about. Hopson learned the Charleston when it was a newfangled dance craze.

Now 108, she was just 6 when influenza swept through the city, killing even more than COVID-19 has. Today, she is one of Philadelphia's oldest residents, and the effort it took to get her vaccinated at home hints at how challenging a time this is for homebound seniors.

Hopson was too young to form lasting memories about that World War I-era pandemic. But her family cherishes her stories of what she does remember growing up in 1920s Philadelphia, of the house on Quince Street where she lived with her parents and great-uncle, a Civil War veteran blinded in combat who called Hopson "Little Toad."

"She's been through two pandemics, two World Wars, and the Great Depression," said her daughter Merle Hopson, 77.

When lockdowns began last March, Merle and her sister, Carla Hopson-Tyson, both retired teachers who are now their mother's full-time caregivers, tried to explain to her why their world had grown even smaller.

"She loves family gatherings, she loves parties. She's been deprived of all her family and friends," Merle said. "We've been pretty isolated." It was hard sometimes for Ruth to understand that another pandemic had come to Philadelphia, and the sisters reminded her why people had begun to wear masks and stay apart from one another.

And as the COVID-19 vaccine was rolled out earlier this year, Merle and her sister jumped at the chance to get their mother vaccinated. But with Ruth unable to leave the house, they didn't know where to turn.

"The average person is having difficulties [finding a vaccine appointment]," Merle Hopson said. "A person with special needs runs into roadblocks. We're not able to get out to go to clinics and vaccines — we don't take my mother out because of her age."

CVS had appointments that were booked in seconds. The Hopsons' church was hosting a vaccine clinic, but only for people who could go there. Two weeks ago, when state Rep. Amen Brown — who lives in the Hopsons' apartment building in the Wynnefield neighborhood of West Philadelphia — stopped by to check on them, Merle asked if he could help.

Brown had organized community COVID-19 testing clinics with Oak Street Health, a local primary care group that runs 10 clinics in the city, primarily geared toward patients on Medicare. He asked if there was any way Ruth Hopson could get her vaccine at home.

On Friday, a handful of nurses and medical assistants arrived at the Hopsons' apartment building with three doses of the Pfizer vaccine for Hopson and her daughters. Eugene Godonou, Oak Street's practice manager, said the group is vaccinating about 200 people a day across its clinics, and has delivered a few doses to homebound seniors.

Brown said he hopes home vaccinations will increase as the city gets more vaccines. "I don't think we should be saying it's this hard," he said. "[Oak Street] was able to come out here. I believe a lot more can be done. There's hundreds of people looking for good-paying jobs."

City officials say they have been planning with the Philadelphia Fire Department to send paramedics and EMTs to vaccinate homebound Philadelphians. Another network of city clinics, the Family Practice and Counseling Network, has been vaccinating some clients in their homes. Owners' associations at several majority-senior apartment buildings have also contracted with pharmacies to go door-to-door to vaccinate residents in recent weeks.

Merle Hopson said she believed the family would still be searching for a vaccine for her mother had Brown not intervened. "I'm just so happy, really thrilled it turned out the way it did," she said. "We had a lot of anxiety trying to find a solution to getting the vaccine."

Learning they were about to be vaccinated was like a weight lifting. "We've been telling her every day, 'You're going to get vaccinated!' " Merle said.

"Amen," Ruth sighed.

"Are you talking about me?" Brown said, laughing.

Joanah Fertile, the medical assistant who gave Hopson her shot, said it was "a pleasure" to give the centenarian her dose. "I'm from Florida, and I already called my family to tell them this is the most exciting day since I've been here in Philly," she said.

As for their plans post-vaccine, Merle said the extended Hopson family was looking forward to reuniting with Ruth. "She's such a joy to be around. It's an honor to take care of her — she's the family treasure," she said. "She's always vigorous, always fun, and can come up with a zinger when you least expect it."

And Ruth, when asked how she wanted to celebrate her first dose, lived up to her reputation: She said she planned to open a bottle of Scotch. "type":"text

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