By Carter Ottele
Gladys Pillsbury has had enough of your bullshit.
“I’m tired of people perceiving me like a relic,” says Gladys in a quiet, husky voice, with a twang that reveals her rural North Carolina upbringing. “I might be old, but I can still participate in lots of activities. And my mind is sharper than a wild boar’s tusk.”
For this year’s B&S senior interview, I spoke with Gladys in her home: a cluttered but comfy apartment in the Mayflower Community. Allergic to most pets and widowed for 22 years, Gladys lives on her own. She insisted, though, that she never grows lonely.
“It’s a community. I live with all sorts of exciting, engaging, titillating characters—yes, I know what that word means. There’s Raymond and Phyllis next door, and they’re always a great time. Phyllis makes this spiked prune juice that is just lovely. Then the next morning, I tend to wake up in the oddest of places: Broad Street, the Old Glove Factory, once even in Mitchellville.