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Columnists - Columnists: Jeff Jardine

Thursday, Oct. 23, 2008

Jardine: Waterford woman's life a testament to endurance

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WATERFORD -- She's 85 now and admittedly struggles to remember the red-letter dates of her life.

But don't try to protect Livea Waterson Johnston from the perils of aging and her own strong will.

"I don't want anyone smothering me," she said.

Lord help the person who tells her to slow down and take it easy. On Aug. 29, Johnston celebrated her 85th birthday the same way she celebrated her 75th and 80th. She parachuted out of an airplane.

Two weeks ago in Utah, she won two gold medals for shooting basketballs at the Huntsman World Senior Games. She outscored competitors from three age groups below her own 85-89 class, including 70-year-old whippersnappers.

She's been to Australia seven times, once riding an elephant in the Outback. She hiked across Tasmania last year and before that, she toured Scandanavia and the former Soviet Union.

Johnston recently gave up competitive bowling -- her shelves are stocked with trophies -- simply because she can't perform at the level she once enjoyed. Her pride made her put down her ball, though she still keeps it in the trunk of her car. She still plays golf at least once a week, drives her car and mows her own yard. She's also an accomplished artist who paints using watercolors and oils.

"I'd love to learn to play the guitar, too," she said.

Unfortunately, she lopped off the tip of her left middle finger in a lawn mower accident when she was 10. Otherwise, she might have given Jimi Hendrix a run for his money.

Finally, something she can't do. It doesn't dull her desire to stay active and healthy as long as humanly possible, though.

"You just keep moving," Johnston said. "If you want to stay alive, you keep moving."

I'm always fascinated by people such as Johnston -- adventurous souls who live for life's next great episode. Her life story reflects a trip through the U.S. history books.

Born in Arkansas in 1923, she followed the path of many other Dust Bowl migrants who packed up and headed west.

"We left Arkansas in 1935 -- 19 people and a Ford flatbed (truck)," she said.

Her father drove. Two women sat up front with him, holding their babies. The remaining 14, including Grandma and Grandpa in their cane chairs, rode behind. One night, while passing through Texas, they crowded into a motel room because of high winds.

"Sand was coming through the keyhole," she said.

They stopped in Arizona, where they found work chopping cotton before moving on to California. They found work in the fields near Turlock.

"We moved around," she said. "I changed schools six times in one year. We'd find a house that was empty and we'd move into it."

Her father eventually scraped together enough money to buy a milk cow and five acres near Hilmar. In 1942, with the country at war, Johnston left home and moved to Albany during her senior year of high school. She attended classes during the day and worked as a welder building Liberty ships at an East Bay shipyard at night. She sent her earnings home to her parents.

The working conditions were horrible. She and friend Margie Kennedy welded in poorly ventilated areas that quickly filled with smoke, soot and fumes.

"They sent us down into the hull of the ship, and when we came out and took off our goggles, and all you could see were our eyes," she said.

After graduating from high school, she was too young to join the Army. So she forged a birth certificate. Stationed at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri, and later in Des Moines, Iowa, she drove trucks, peeled potatoes and cleaned grease traps.

"I was very patriotic," she said. "I still am."

She went on leave fully expecting to ship out to some war zone when she returned. Her mother, a Pentecostal, had other ideas.

"She prayed me out of going overseas," Johnston said.

Johnston married after the war, and eventually returned to the valley where she and her husband, Leslie Johnston, raised their four children. He owned a barber shop in Waterford and died at 70 in 1987.

Livea Johnston never slowed down, though. It doesn't suit her one bit.

"She has no fear about anything," said Zane Johnston, her son. He's been the city of Tracy's finance director for 20 years. He and his mom play golf together once a week. "She doesn't see obstacles."

Her competitive fire still burns. Not long ago, they teamed with two others in a tournament. Each member of the team had one hole where only his or her score counted toward the team's total.

"I was sick as a dog," Zane Johnston said. "But I knew if I canceled, my mom would kill me."

"The fresh air will do you good," she told him.

On "his" hole, Zane hit a solid first shot on a par-5 before nausea overcame him.

"I was down on all fours," he said. "She came over, patted me on the back and said, 'That's right, get it all out. We're going to need your score for this hole.' "

She doesn't baby anyone, nor does she like to be babied.

"My kids try to protect me," Livea Johnston said. "I resent that. I do what I want to do."

Five years from now, that could include another leap out of an airplane at 13,000 feet.

"If I live to 90, who knows?" she said.

Jeff Jardine's column appears Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays in Local News. He can be reached at jjardine@modbee.com or 578-2383.