logo
98-year-old Grunthal twins happy to still be teasing each other, living next door

98-year-old Grunthal twins happy to still be teasing each other, living next door

Yahoo25-05-2025
Kay Rempel and Marie Chipilski might be 98 years old, but the identical twins say they still have some growing up to do.
"We should think before we speak," Rempel said.
"That's the problem," Chipilski added without hesitation. "That's why we have to stay here longer."
Cracking jokes, often at each other's expense, comes easily for the bubbly sisters, who say they have the good fortune to live independently but across the hall from each other at a 55-plus residence in Grunthal.
Earlier in the week, the twins were invited to the Manitoba Legislature to mark their 98th birthdays.
Their MLA, Konrad Narth, read a speech, all politicians gave them a standing ovation and the sisters got certificates to recognize nearly a century of living.Narth said the two "firecrackers" are best friends who enjoy joking around.
The twins say they're often complimented for their witty humour from family, friends and even strangers.
"They say we're different — we're foolish," Chipilski said, adding she believes frequent laughter is key to their longevity.
The sisters have also prioritized enjoying life, loving others and their Christian faith, rather than the predictable explanations for a long life, such as regular exercise and a good diet.
"I never did eat healthy," Chipilski said.
The sisters grew up on a family farm near New Bothwell along with 10 Friesen siblings.
The twins always got along smoothly.
"We never fought or anything," Rempel said.
"But now it's a different story," Chipilski quipped.
They later got married and had kids, and their lives took different paths. Chipilski took over the family farm with her husband, while Rempel was busy selling flowers and volunteering at church.
Rempel was the first to move to Grunthal, settling in a 55-plus residence after her husband's health took a turn. Eventually, her neighbour across the hall moved out, and Rempel invited Chipilski to move in.
"I'm sorry I did," Rempel joked.
Both widows have spent more than 20 years living across the hall from each other.
They joke the doors between their rooms are kept shut, but they spend time together daily, trading barbs and watching game shows and cooking shows on television.
"We feel like one," Chipilski said, so much so that "we have never ever given each other a hug."
It would be like hugging yourself, Rempel said: "There's no use."
Although Chipilski is going through cancer treatment, both she and Rempel say they feel great physically. They walk around their homes without assistance, aAnd it helps that they're still sharp mentally.
The sisters say they have more life ahead of them.
"I love my children too much yet," Rempel said.
"I mean, it doesn't matter how much we love them," Chipilski added. "Someday we will go — we all have to go — but I guess God isn't finished with us yet."
They hope to return to the legislature for their 100th birthdays.
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Limited space, slow intake raise challenges for some Nisichawayasihk evacuees at Winnipeg congregate shelter
Limited space, slow intake raise challenges for some Nisichawayasihk evacuees at Winnipeg congregate shelter

Yahoo

time6 hours ago

  • Yahoo

Limited space, slow intake raise challenges for some Nisichawayasihk evacuees at Winnipeg congregate shelter

Charter flights and buses loaded with hundreds of evacuees forced out by wildfires burning near Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation are expected to arrive in Winnipeg on Monday, but some are expressing concerns over the conditions at the congregate shelter most are heading to. A mandatory evacuation order for residents at the Cree Nation, also known as Nelson House, came in during the weekend over poor air quality and fears wildfires would shut down the only access road to the community, located roughly 600 northwest of Winnipeg. Just over 1,500 residents — including all priority evacuees, among them children, elders and people with underlying health conditions — had left the community by Sunday, Councillor Kim Linklater told CBC News. With little to no hotel rooms available in Winnipeg, Nisichawayasihk is expecting most of its evacuees to stay at Manitoba's congregate shelter in the RBC Convention Centre. But some evacuees have reported long waits at the facility to register with the Red Cross, some contacting Linklater into the early hours of Monday morning, arguing they have not been able to secure a cot to sleep on. "They're getting very upset and they are tired," Linklater said. "I understand there's a shortage everywhere, but when you're expecting a community, everything should be prepared already beforehand." Lenora Spence and her 23-year-old son arrived at the convention centre in Winnipeg at around 12:40 a.m. on Monday after they were flown out from Nisichawayasihk with one suitcase. She said it took them hours to get a space at the congregate shelter and with hundreds of others crammed in the facility, it has been challenging to take care of her son with special medical needs. "I feel safe from the fire, but this ain't safe … for him," she said. For Spence, it was a priority to get her son out of the northern community as soon as possible because he is epileptic and with the wildfire smoke, he has been experiencing more seizures than before. But "it is very hard … [to] have a non-verbal child that's not able to be around a lot of people in the environment and sleep in a cot with no blanket." Some of those concerns are also worrying Nichole Wood-Hart, an evacuee from Nisichawayasihk who has been staying at the congregate shelter with her five daughters and son. "It's not safe for them to be in this place," she said. "It's not safe for them to run around … out here, even though they need fresh air." Space at the congregate shelter is limited, and the number of people staying inside rises day by day, Wood-Hart said. Access to the washroom is limited due to overcrowding, and Wood-Hart's family has been limited to staying in a small space with people walking around at all times. "It's hard because I'm always worrying," she said. "I'm crazy about protecting my daughters because it's dangerous out here." While she has asked for help to get supplies like milk for her newborn child, she said the support is limited and comes only after insisting on volunteers. "I just wish that they could help us better. This is not a place to keep so many kids all together." The Red Cross said in a statement that it's working with the province and Indigenous Services Canada to support evacuees. As of July 30, more than 28,000 people from over 11,000 households in Manitoba have registered with the organization. 2,000 still waiting to leave Nisichawayasihk Deputy Chief Marcel Moody said it is a "difficult time" for the community, they are trying to manage without enough hotel spaces to accommodate the residents who are already out, and the 2,000 in the waiting line to leave. "At the convention centre the building is cold, you don't have enough blankets, there's kids running around, crying and the intake process is slow," Moody said. But the Cree Nation is trying to address those issues in hopes of keeping the community together while it is evacuated. "There's some issues in Winnipeg with people going missing, drinking and potential sexual exploitation, we have to make sure our people are safe." At least three wildfires are burning close near Nisichawayasihk, Moody said. The closest one is roughly 10 kilometres north of the community, while another blaze is growing about 20 kilometres west of the Cree Nation. The latest data from Manitoba's wildfire services map shows at least two wildfires burning north of Nisichawayasihk, including one that has grown to over 46,000 hectares by Saturday. According to the province's latest fire bulletin, issued last week, the Manitoba Wildfire Service was responding to 127 active wildfires across the province, which has seen a total of 351 wildfires to date, well above the average for this time of year of 276. "The winds have been favourable," Moody said. But extended precipitation is still needed to help wildfire services put out the flames. "[We] hope for the best, the summer is going to be over in four weeks, maybe the first fire won't be out until we have snow," Moody said. "It is crazy." Find the latest wildfire information at these sources: Are you an evacuee who needs assistance? Contact Manitoba 211 by calling 211 from anywhere in Manitoba or email 211mb@

I left city life to marry a farmer and move to a 100-year-old prairie farm. It was the best decision I've ever made.
I left city life to marry a farmer and move to a 100-year-old prairie farm. It was the best decision I've ever made.

Yahoo

time18 hours ago

  • Yahoo

I left city life to marry a farmer and move to a 100-year-old prairie farm. It was the best decision I've ever made.

I had a great life in Edmonton, but when I fell in love with a farmer, I decided to leave the city. I moved to a small prairie farm where there are more cows than humans, and haven't looked back. Over 15 years later, I love my life, enjoy raising kids here, and have learned what community means. When I was in the city, I was living what I thought was the dream: I had a stable government job, a great house, and a packed social schedule. I had built a life I was proud of, and that life had absolutely nothing to do with cows. Then, I met a farmer. One weekend in 2009, I went on a weekend fishing trip to northern Saskatchewan. It was supposed to be a family get-together, but a family friend brought someone he thought I should meet. Very quickly, I realized I was being set up. Although we had very different lifestyles, I was intrigued by the farmer's quiet, steady demeanor and passion for his work. After getting to know each other for two days, we exchanged numbers and eventually started dating. By April 2010, I had packed up my city life and moved to his 100-year-old farm in east-central Alberta, about two and a half hours from my home in Edmonton. It was a place where cows outnumbered people, cell service was spotty, and the sunsets were so beautiful, they made me stop mid-sentence. That fall, we got married. I never expected to trade my high heels for muck boots, but it turned out to be an easy choice When I first moved to the farm, my friends had questions. I had a social reputation, and people wondered how I'd handle living in the middle of nowhere. Although I'd built a great foundation and routine in the city, I knew this romantic relationship was something special. I also knew that if I wanted to build a future with this man, I'd have to relocate. However, from the second I moved, I never questioned my decision. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with my new neighbors, the nearby community, and the owl that frequented the trees outside my bedroom window and sang me to sleep every night. Life on the farm was quieter, yes, but also fuller and richer than anything I'd experienced in the city. Moving to a farm changed my definition of a successful, happy life In Edmonton, I thought I had it all, from a high-paying job to a busy social life — but I also felt strangely disconnected. I had friends, sure, but no real sense of community. I had career momentum, but no space to dream about what I really wanted. Farm life changed that. Moving here gave me the room to imagine something different and then build it. I started a business out of my two loves: photography and writing. I went on to write four books celebrating farm life, rural women, and the incredible culture and history of Canadian family farms. I discovered that community doesn't mean having a million or more people around me; it means living around people who will support each other when it matters. Here, we know our neighbors. We show up, help each other dig out from snowdrifts, and bring food when someone's experienced a loss. Over a decade later, I have no regrets about moving here — even if it wasn't the life I once pictured Sometimes, I think about the version of myself who lived in the city — the one who didn't really know her neighbors, had wonderful friends but no real community, and spent way too much money on to-go coffees. I still have the coffee habit (I'm a mom, after all), but back then, I was simply chasing what I thought would make me happy. This wide-open, surrounded-by-more-cows-than-people, "wave to the people you drive by" life feels like where I was meant to land, though. Now, I get to raise my daughters with space to run and skies that go on forever. I get to work from home doing what I love. Plus, I get to share a life with someone who understands the value of hard work, simple joy, and planting roots and a legacy. I never expected to fall in love with a farmer, and I certainly didn't expect to live on a century-old prairie farm or to find my calling after leaving everything familiar behind. More than 15 years later, though, I know this: following my heart out of the city and onto this farm was the smartest — and most fulfilling — thing I've ever done. Read the original article on Business Insider Solve the daily Crossword

Fatal Deer Lake plane crash leaves family mourning halfway across the world
Fatal Deer Lake plane crash leaves family mourning halfway across the world

Yahoo

timea day ago

  • Yahoo

Fatal Deer Lake plane crash leaves family mourning halfway across the world

A fatal plane crash in Deer Lake, Newfoundland and Labrador has left a family grieving on the other side of the world. Shock rippled through the western Newfoundland town of 5,000 people in late July after hearing reports of a small plane crashing near the region's airport. The aircraft was a Piper Navajo twin-engine plane. The pilot, a 54-year-old man, and the lone passenger, a 27-year-old man, were both pronounced dead at the scene. This week, the family identified the passenger to CBC News as Gautham Santosh, from Kerala, India. He was living in Canada to become a pilot. "He just wanted to fly. Ever since he was a child, he wanted to be a pilot," Gautham's sister, Ganga Santosh, told CBC News. Now, she says, her family is in shock and reeling. "Everybody's devastated because of such a thing, no one would dream of it happening," Ganga Santosh said. Always wanted to be a pilot Gautham Santosh is described as a gentleman and his brother-in-law Sonu Prathap said he was a reliable person. "He was someone you can count on once you get to know him," Prathap said. "It sounds cliche, but he was truly like that." Ganga Santosh said her brother was determined to chase his dream and become a pilot. As a child, she says, he was obsessed with planes. "My grandma, she used to say, whichever notebook you open, you'll find images of these airplanes. And he had ideas about all of them, all types of models. He knew the name, he knew how the design was, everything," she said. When it came time to pursue post-secondary education, Ganga Santosh said her brother was convinced to study mechanical engineering. She said their mother considered it the safer career option but he dropped out after his second year in the program. "He was like, 'No, this is not my passion. My passion is flying, like I'm meant for that,' and so at last my mom gave in," Ganga Santosh said. Gautham Santosh moved to Canada in 2019. He studied and worked at the Pacific Professional Flight Centre in British Columbia. Ganga Santosh said he recently started working with the owner of the Piper Navajo twin-engine plane in order to gain more flying hours. "I think it's been three to four weeks now since he's been working there with Kisik," Ganga Santosh said. Last contact On July 26, his family knew he was getting on a plane in Deer Lake. Ganga Santosh said her brother called their mom beforehand. "He had called my mom and said, 'I'm going to the airport, it's my off-day, but there's some work that I need to do, and after that I'm taking a rest,'" she said. Their mother is shaken by the last conversation she had with Gautham Santosh. "The last word he said was that he's taking a rest, which is still hurting my mom so much. She didn't think that it would end in such a kind of rest," Ganga Santosh said. Gautham Santosh had big plans for his future. In the short term, he was going to visit home in September and surprise his mom for Onam, an annual harvest and cultural festival in India. "He's like, 'I'll surprise mommy. I won't tell him I'm coming,'" Ganga Santosh said. "He planned all that, but unfortunately, as you can see, he could not keep up those plans." Repatriation Now, his family is hoping to bring home what they can of his remains. "It was a twin-engine flight, and it was supposed to fly for eight to 10 hours or something. So that much fuel and the crash happened right after take off caused a really huge explosion," she said. "We still do not know how much is left." The crash is currently under investigation by the Transportation Safety Board of Canada. Ganga Santosh said whatever is left of her brother is in the hands of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in St. John's. She hopes that in the coming weeks, his remains will be repatriated. "We need him back, because in India, I'm sure you know, we have some last rites and things to be done," Ganga Santosh said. Her brother died doing what he loved, she said. "He just loved it. He used to be like, 'I flew this many hours. I flew 12 hours. I flew straight. It was amazing,'" Ganga Santosh said. Download our free CBC News app to sign up for push alerts for CBC Newfoundland and Labrador. Sign up for our daily headlines newsletter here. Click here to visit our landing page.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store