He died of a heart attack at age 59, but if you had asked him how he wanted to go, he would have answered, “I want to be shot at age 99 by a jealous husband.” That was his stock answer for living life to its fullest till the last possible moment. No one in my family has made it to their 90s. I did have an uncle who set a record by making it past 80. So, if you gave me a choice, I’d say I want to go by being shot at 99 by a jealous spouse.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “99.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

3 thoughts on “99”

  1. I hope I am dead long before I turn Ninety-nine. May I be dust on the wind. Yes, just dust on the wind soon to be mixed in the ocean and become fertilizer for some lush tropical plant. Death shall become me far more than losing my senses one at a time. My bones should not ache any longer than necessary. I am rooting for the grave because my children should never have to put up with some crotchety old soul who may have lost her manners due to losing the very senses she did not want to lose… Just saying, ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall are better than years.

  2. 99 Luftballons… Have you ever listened to this song from Nena? Aren’t the years like air balloons? They can be light and colorful, but if you press too much, they just explode. One of my grand-parents-in-law lived until 97. He was very optimistic about age and his goal was to live until 101, a year longer than what was according to him the goal of the old pope John-Paul II. My grandpa-in-law Max was a quirky little man with an incredible history of the war and hard life behind him but an absolute childish joy in enjoying life at whatever age.

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