" 'If you park here, the president will be coming and you will get a good look,' the policeman said. In about five minutes, the president came by in a Cadillac convertible with a car full of kids. Margaret had a nice white Cadillac, too, and we looked pretty good. So as the president's car came near us, we rolled down the window and yelled, 'Hi Jack!'

"The president stopped. I suppose he thought it was one of his rich Palm Beach friends. He asked how we were and said he 'was glad to see us.' When he pulled out, we followed him. As we reached the main highway, there were motorcycle cops all over the place. One motioned President Kennedy out. We followed ... until we reached the house where the president was staying.

"When he pulled into the driveway, we kept going straight ahead. I'll bet those cops wondered who those dignitaries were in the second Cadillac."

In a 102-year lifetime, driving in a presidential motorcade ought to be a highlight. But it's just the last tale in Chapter 9 of Nell Whitlinger Crawford's self-published autobiography, "Faith and a Sense of Humor."

Even a U.S. president can't top the life story of this proud, funny Lower Burrell woman who has outlived two husbands and every contemporary she can remember. And she doesn't forget much. This is how she begins her 83-page book:

"My name is Ellen (Nell, Nellie) Elizabeth Gertrude (my confirmation name) Gagen Whitlinger Crawford -- quite a moniker. I was born into a mostly Irish family in New Bethlehem, Pa., on Aug. 12, 1907. ... I'm the eighth child born to John Joseph Gagen and Mary Ellen McCafferty Shaffer ...."

Her earliest memory is of her older brother Charlie being injured in a mining accident. "My second memory is of Charlie in his casket in the living room in 1912. He was 21. I was 4 1/2. ...

"I was one of those kids who knew everyone and every street in town. I must have been somewhat of a pest in my own way," she wrote.

Although she was Catholic, she was fascinated by revival services held in a vacant lot next door. She attended one alone when she was 9:

"The preacher was very dynamic and, after a lot of arm waving and loud preaching, asked for people to come forward and 'be saved.' No one moved. So I went up, in my bare feet, to be saved." When her mother heard about it, she told her to never go again.

Her mother figures prominently in her memory of Armistice Day, Nov. 11, 1918. Nell's brother James served in the Army during World War I. Without television or radio, most people didn't find out about the war's end until Nov. 12:

"Someone ran up the street yelling, 'War is over! War is over! War is over!' I ran home as fast as I could. When I told Mom, she jumped out of bed (she had the flu) and ran around the room in spite of her high fever. It was a great day."

In 1926, Nell was elected captain of the Vandergrift High School girls' basketball team. But she was even better in the high jump. She has a letter from a coach congratulating her on jumping 4 feet, 8 1/4 inches, which the coach said was a national girls record at the time. Nell believes she could have jumped even higher if she didn't have to wear bloomers, stockings and a garter belt.

"Sometimes I think that if I hadn't been encumbered by my uniform, I might have made it to the moon before the astronauts," she wrote.

As a high school student, she hoped to become a Benedictine nun. But her mother wouldn't give permission. Then the owner of the United Engineering and Foundry, where she worked one summer, offered to pay for her to attend college. He changed his mind and offered her a permanent job instead.

"I was already packed. It was another huge disappointment," she said.

Nell was attracted to her first husband, Gene Whitlinger, by his brains. He graduated from Dickinson College and law school in three years, then passed the state boards on the first try. But with no job prospects or money to open a law office, he took a job at the post office, where he worked for the next 36 years. He had a law office the last seven years of his life.

They were married quietly on Oct. 24, 1928, in the rectory of St. Gertrude Catholic Church in Vandergrift with only her parents, two brothers and two friends in attendance.

"Mom served roast beef, potatoes, gravy, a 'wilted' lettuce and bacon dish, and Jell-O for our wedding supper. ... After dinner, the 'new' Mr. and Mrs. Whitlinger (I loved that name) went to Pittsburgh to see a movie."

In 1931, their first child was born. Jack was followed by Bill, Gene "Beany" and Ann. Their father managed to miss every birth, twice because he was at work. During the other two births, he was out to dinner or home in bed.

In 1935, while visiting a sister-in-law at Mercy Hospital, Nell met the Clancy sisters. These wealthy eccentrics who lived on the top floor of a warehouse they owned at the Point were famous for dressing in 1890s garb -- long black skirts and wide-brimmed sailor hats -- and for praying everywhere, including the morgue. When Ann Clancy died in March 1936, Nell and her sister, Mary, went to pay their respects at their home.

"All of Ann Clancy's black attire had been replaced with pure white," she wrote.

The next day, March 17, 1936, was the St. Patrick's Day Flood. Mary Clancy was trapped by the rising water for three days at the Point with her sister's corpse.

In 1940, Nell took a job at Rubin's department store and set out to start a Catholic church in Apollo, which had never had one. Because her family had no car, she walked the town taking a census of Catholics. She lost 17 pounds in the first three weeks and enlisted 534 people. St. James the Greater Church, which she co-founded, got its first pastor in 1944.

Nell worked at Rubin's until 1955 as a buyer of women's clothing and accessories for stores in Apollo, Vander­grift and Leechburg. In the 1950s, she became more involved in Democratic politics, rising to Apollo committeewoman in 1954. It led to a job at the state Department of Transportation in Kittanning, where she was chief clerk when she retired in 1960.

In 1959, her husband of 31 years died from a heart attack. With her children grown, she decided to move to Florida and live in the Palm Beach Hotel. It was for "people whose families had enough money to put them in a retirement hotel, then would forget about them," she said. After one week, the manager asked her to be cashier/bookkeeper.

Next door to the hotel was St. Edward's Church, where Jack Kennedy had been an usher. Nell has a picture of him leaving the church with Jackie and another of Rose, his mother. When Jack and his brother Bobby were assassinated, Nell sent sympathy notes to Rose and Ethel Kennedy. She received thank yous and prayer cards for each man.

The stress of running the hotel drove up her blood pressure, and in 1964, Nell returned to Apollo. Through it all, she has maintained her sense of humor. After an operation, a doctor asked her if she had much gas.

"Do I have gas? If I raised my arms, I could be in Kentucky for supper," she told him.

Her second marriage, to Gene Crawford in 1979, lasted 10 1/2 years. In 1993, she moved to Lower Burrell to live with her daughter, Ann Lucas. In 2002, she wrote her book and had 30 copies printed for her children, 11 grandchildren and 16 great-grandchildren.

When Nell turned 100, she celebrated at a hotel with 115 guests from eight states and received birthday greetings from the pope, a bishop, a judge, state senators and representatives and Willard Scott of NBC's "Today" show. She also was named queen of Apollo's Fall Festival Parade.

There was no party for 101 or 102, but this year, the folks at Murdock's Salon in New Kensington made a fuss with balloons, flowers and a cupcake with one candle. More than 100 cards came from 12 states. Most were from the nearly 70 people with cancer whom she has reached out to over the 16 years since her son Bill recovered from the disease.

"I know why I'm still here," she said. "My mission is writing to cancer patients. They can't believe a 102-year-old woman could give them such hope."

Doug Oster writes a blog, "Growing With Doug," exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.