Dorothea Bauer reflects on a century of living

She lives in a little house on a hill, overlooking the surrounding hills of ranchland in Mariposa County.

Rose bushes bloom in the yard, and a clothes line dips near the back door. With the aid of a walker at age 100, she still hangs her clothes to dry.

I visited the little house this week, where Dorothea (Inselmann) Bauer has lived since the early 1960s.

She was born on a stormy night in Wisconsin on April 19, 1916, and grew up on a dairy farm with five brothers and two sisters.

She remembers two German cousins coming to live with them during World War I.

“I sure scoured a lot of milk cans,” she said.

The farm inspector told her dad he had the cleanest milk cans he had ever seen.

“I still don’t like scouring today,” she told me.

She’s always been petite and wiry, but Bauer’s personality overflows.

She remembers the security and contentment of childhood, when her father took the lantern from the house to the barn to check on their livestock during snowstorms, to make sure the animals were OK.

“The barn was nice and warm,” she said, “and doves made nests in the rafters.”

Although she and her family worked hard and long, they were together. Looking back she remembers her early years as heaven on earth.

World War II pulled her out of maid service when she and so many other women filled the men’s positions.

“But I never heard anyone complain. Everybody pulled their weight,” she told me.

She clipped coupons and collected S&H Green Stamps, saving enough to earn the premiums. She used lay-away for bigger purchases.

When Bauer finally saved enough money to buy a black fitted coat, she got whistled at, and didn’t like it. She bought a looser coat. Years later the fitted coat was shipped in a barrel to Europe’s war refugees.

In 1946, her youngest brother planned a trip to California. She came with him, because their mom didn’t want him going by himself.

After driving up and down the coast and the Central Valley, they settled in Modesto.

“I was too busy working and trying to educate myself to get married,” she said.

Sinus issues from working in the valley brought her to the foothills.

She remembers the strawberry milkshakes at Roy’s Café in Hornitos. George Bauer was a member of the gun club, and after club meetings he and his friends would go to the café. He was five years her senior.

In 1950, they exchanged marriage vows at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Lodi.

George was an Army veteran and fought in the Philippines. Because of a heart defect from birth, he never did retire or build the dining room he had planned. They were married for 24 years.

For a while they had a cow, and she loved baking and gardening – and sharing with neighbors, especially at Christmas.

She didn’t have kids of her own, but volunteered at Mariposa’s Methodist Church for the Time Out program, when moms needed a baby sitter.

“I got a first-class education in child psychology without going to college,” she said.

She served at the Senior Center, at the Masonic Lodge and in the Hornitos Patrons Club. She always was behind the scenes, always a hard worker, and always caring about others.

Bauer showed me the certificate of appreciation she received from the Board of Supervisors for being “Senior Volunteer of the Year.”

When she fell and hurt her shoulder, her volunteering years were over.

She never remarried, “Because all the takers were taken, and none of the good ones were left.”

Last week she wore pearls and made a special trip to Mariposa to receive another certificate—in honor of her 100th birthday.

She loves to laugh and still has opinions on politics and religion and life. And she doesn’t mind sharing them.

After a century of cultural changes, she wishes some things were like the old days, but she wouldn’t give up her hot water heater and automatic washing machine.

When asked if she needs anything at the store, she says, “Yes, a bottle of ambition.”

On Mondays, the senior bus comes to pick her up. She runs errands and buys groceries in Mariposa, and has lunch at the Senior Center.

She passes the time doing a few chores and listening to music. Friends call or stop by; some help with cleaning.

“I’m not lonely even though I live alone. There’s too much to do to be lonely,” she told me. “I think the computer is more fun than the colored television, but I wish my eyesight was better and I could learn about things. I used to love reading.”

Every day she counts her blessings. “I have no regrets – I’ve got it good.”

This story was originally published April 29, 2016 at 11:28 AM with the headline "Dorothea Bauer reflects on a century of living."