On December 13, 2004, I accompanied Doris Eaton Travis to Rochester, Michigan where she received an honorary PhD in Humanities. Travis, three months shy of her 101st birthday, and I flew from Oklahoma City to Rochester, and then took the hour-long car ride to the Lincoln Park Hotel. Oakland University, the bestowing institution, arranged a lovely suite for her.

After checking into the hotel and getting settled, I joined Mrs. Travis in her suite. We sat on the couch and noticed a program for the next day's ceremony lying on the coffee table. Mrs. Travis picked it up and looked slowly through the pages. She still wore the jewelry that she always wore when we traveled. On her left ring finger was a large solitaire diamond set in a wide gold mounting, studded with smaller diamonds - her engagement ring. On her right ring finger was a 15-carat aquamarine surrounded by diamonds, a ring Mr. Travis had given her on her 18th birthday.

The elegant jewelry was sharply contrasted by Mrs. Travis' hands. A century of living had left her hands wrinkled and spotted. Arthritis had caused her knuckles to enlarge, and the fingers on each hand were bent, as if they were collectively pointing away from her thumbs.

I picked up the program and looked at it a little more closely. "Mrs. Travis, it says here that you are giving the commencement address tomorrow," I said. "That must be a mistake," she said. "All I am going to do is pick up my degree and say a few thank yous." She was having breakfast the next morning with Dr. Gary Russi, the President of Oakland University. She assured me she would straighten out the situation then.

She walked into the room after breakfast and declared, "It looks like I am giving the commencement address after all." Her eyes sparkled like the blue water of a swimming pool on a bright summer day. She looked directly into my eyes. "I do not want to see you until five o'clock."

I went to her room at 5 to escort her to the car. She wore a black pantsuit that was tailor-made for her. She accented her outfit with a single strand of pearls and matching earrings. I helped her into her coat, a full length, wool affair with a large, black fox collar. The collar framed her remarkably smooth face that still reflected the extraordinary beauty of her youth. She looked, quite simply, like a movie star.