Ask Larry Haubner for the secret to living 107 years, and the
Fredericksburg man flexes his biceps, flashes a mostly toothless smile
and growls. "Nutrition!" he bellows. "Exercise! I think we should all
exercise more than we do."
But the self-described health nut's longevity means he's outlived his savings -- twice.
Two years ago, supporters raised $56,000 to help Haubner stay at
Greenfield, the assisted living center he calls home. "I was sure that
was going to be sufficient," said Carol Ewing of Bridges Senior Care
Solutions, who holds power of attorney to manage Haubner's affairs.
Today Haubner seems as vigorous as ever. He takes no medication and
can lift his walker over his head. But his funds are expected to run
out again in November. Without more help, he will have to apply for
Medicaid and move to a nursing home. So friends are mounting a second
campaign. They've raised more than $7,000, enough to pay his bills for
three months.
"He doesn't have anyone," said Connie Miller, Greenfield's director, "so we've become his family."
Virginia is one of eight states that do not allow Medicaid -- a
program to help low-income people obtain health care -- to be used for
assisted living services, according to the Assisted Living Federation
of America.
In most cases, said Cindi Jones of the Virginia Department of
Medical Assistance Services, assisted living residents who run out of
money and qualify for Medicaid move to nursing homes or move in with
family. Maryland and the District allow Medicaid payments for assisted
living services, although there is a waiting list in Maryland.
For most people, worries about life after 100 are theoretical. The
Social Security Administration estimated in an actuarial study that one
in every 25,000 men born in 1900 would live to 107.
Haubner, who was born June 14, 1902, is blue-eyed and bald and
answers to the nickname "Curly." He lived alone in a Fredericksburg
apartment until he was 102. Locals knew him as the older fellow often
seen cycling around town. But in 2004, he fell off his bike and was
taken to a hospital.
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Social workers determined that he could not safely
return to his apartment. They found a place for him at Greenfield, a
private-pay facility. The 36 residents personalize rooms with
photographs, pets and their furniture.
Haubner's room is spare, furnished mostly with donations. A recliner
is flanked by ancient exercise equipment, including a homemade weight
-- an eight-kilogram lead ball inside a basket -- that he lifts at
least 20 times a day. "That's what I do. If you want to do it," he
cautioned a visitor, "start with five times."
Robert Prasse, a physician who treats Haubner for free, said he is
in good health. "I don't see anything that's going to take him away
from us in a hurry," he said.
Haubner never married and has no surviving family or friends. Other
residents' families have adopted him, Miller said, bringing him
Christmas and birthday gifts.
In his first two years at Greenfield, Ewing said, Haubner covered
the $3,500 monthly bill with savings and $1,200 in monthly pension and
Social Security payments.
But it became clear by 2007 that Haubner's bank account was
shrinking even though he showed no signs of slowing down. Supporters
launched savelarry.org to solicit donations, Ewing said, and media
attention helped bring in 375 contributions.
Ewing has not told Haubner that he again faces the possibility of moving. "I don't want to worry him," she said.
Greenfield and eight other assisted living facilities are run by
Greenfield Senior Living, based in Falls Church. Company spokeswoman
Olga Soehngen said Greenfield charges Haubner a reduced fee and cannot
promise he will be able to live out his life there.
Moving to a nursing home would be hard on Haubner, his supporters
said. It's not that nursing homes are bad. But at 107, Ewing said,
"he's earned the right to stay where he is."
Details of Haubner's past are sketchy, gleaned from stories he
tells. He was born in Dubuque, Iowa, and grew up in Tacoma, Wash.,
where his father worked on the railroad. "You might say we never had
any money," he said.
He worked at a Tacoma lumberyard before enlisting in the Army in his
late 30s, then moved to New York to work as a doorman and pursue a
dream of singing opera. He had a teacher who believed in him. "She said
I had a voice that could make it," he said. But he never sang
professionally.
Haubner moved to Virginia to live with his sister when her husband
died. Fredericksburg resident Dianne Bachman said she often saw Haubner
cycle to the Rappahannock, dismount and croon to the river. "He didn't
have to have an audience," she said.
Haubner still breaks into song now and then, with a warbly voice.
He's fond of sitting on the front porch at Greenfield. And he remains
vigilant about exercise and diet.
"Well, I ate the cake," he said of his latest birthday celebration. "But I don't believe cake is a good food."