She's just a dab of a woman, clad in a lovely print dress, her knees draped in a pale yellow-and-green afghan, her once raging red hair now tamed into soft white puffs.

Her eyes crinkle behind her gold-rimmed glasses when she smiles in response to a compliment. "Oh, I'm just all dolled up for the occasion," she said, her voice a husky whisper.

And quite the occasion it is: Today, Alma Grigsby turns 108.

One hundred and eight years, lived in three centuries. Lived through earthquakes, wars, social movements and technological transformations.

And lots and lots of "Wheel of Fortune" episodes.

"That's what I love to do in the evenings now, is watch 'Wheel of Fortune' and 'Jeopardy,'" she said. "I don't feel 108. It doesn't fit my disposition. I blow up every once in a while. When I was young, you see, I had red hair and a temper to match.

"The temper stayed with me."

Laura and I hope this special occasion is filled with love and joy, the letter read. Grigsby showed it off and beamed.

She's become more delicate in the past few years, spending most of her time in a wheelchair and requiring more care. So she relies entirely on "the girls" -- three women who look after her. Grigsby has no family. She's outlived all her relatives. Her husband, Jack Grigsby, died about 45 years ago, and they had no children.

LaMadrid has even been staying with Grigsby during the night in recent months, strictly on a volunteer basis. I can't leave her, LaMadrid said. She is like a family member to me now.

But this year ... well, she's just not sure yet.

I haven't decided, she said. I thought I'd leave it up to the girls.

Grigsby tires easily but is still delighted to have guests and a chat. She knows about the passing of President Ronald Reagan and says he "was a wonderful president and did a lot of good in his day."

She loves to tell tales of her father, Sam Austin, who served in the Civil War. Yes, the Civil War. You know, the one from a century and a half ago?

"My father was a Southerner and said the Yankees weren't worth a damn," she said, chuckling softly. "But they shot him off his horse, so I guess they showed him something."

Because there are only a handful of living Civil War sons and daughters left in the entire country, Grigsby was honored in 2002 -- when she was only 106 -- by Civil War descendants and history buffs from all over California. They presented her with a certificate, a medal and a plaque on her father's grave in Evergreen Cemetery.

Grigsby says her father came to California via Colorado, where he worked a short stint in the silver mines. When he came to Oakland he bought about 200 acres in what is now the Fruitvale District.

Yet she survived, and her father doted on her, buying her a Shetland pony when she was about 8 years old to ride to school. That pony's name was Babe, and boy were all the school kids jealous, she said.

She loves to tell how the family would come down on horse and buggy to the bare banks of Lake Merritt to watch the fireworks in the summertime. Or how her father would race his favorite horse named George with the other horses down 14th Street.

Grigsby was just 10 when the big earthquake hit -- the 1906 one. "I remember my mother was very frightened," she said. "Dad held her, and wouldn't let her get out of bed until the shaking stopped. ..."

The different values, what they were then and what they are now -- it doesn't seem possible, she said, shaking her head. It's out of rhyme and reason.

Grigsby says there's no great secret to her longevity. "The Lord's been good to me. I'm very grateful and I depend entirely on him," she said.

She does have another secret, however. She loves to play the lottery, and gets a devilish look when she talks about it.

Have you ever won the lottery, Alma?

"No!" she said, frowning. "But I keep hoping. I had a good dream the other night. In my dream I won a million dollars.

"That would have taken care of me for life."

The Oakland Tribune: Cityside
Leanne McLaughlin, Managing Editor
(510) 208-6447
(510) 208-6477 Fax
lmclaughlin@angnewspapers.com Email