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The Charming, Eccentric, Blessed Life of Lee Maxwell
Lee Maxwell owns a Guinness-world-record-holding washing machine collection. When his wife of 71 years died, he was left to ponder what his life would look like.
He reaches his office near the front door, where books and papers are stacked on shelves and scattered about his desk—where I’m watching his wife’s final hours on a tiny, closed-circuit video screen next to Lee’s computer. Now in their 90s, Lee and Barbara are part of a rare club: They are nonagenarians, a word derived from the Latin nonagenarius, which means “containing ninety.” A 2018 study in the journal International Psychogeriatrics concluded that, among a small sample size, “exceptional longevity was characterized by a balance between acceptance of and grit to overcome adversities, along with a positive attitude and close ties to family, religion, and land, providing purpose in life.” Her ceramic roosters rest atop the kitchen cabinets, above the stovetop backsplash decorated with a mishmash of painted tiles—a brown goat with a crescent moon in the background, a peach, a trio of poinsettias, a majestic blue-and-green peacock—collected from their travels.
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