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Yesterday, I visited Sophie.

Peeking into her cozy room at the Hebrew Home and Hospital in West Hartford, I watched her nimbly lie down on her crisply made bed for an after-lunch snooze. I wasn't about to let her sleep.

I had come to see my 96-year-old mentor, longing to hear her words of wisdom. And so I piped up, "Sophie!"

Beaming, Sophie answered, "My darling! It's so good to see you. Come in. Sit down and take off your coat. Is it cold out?"

I settled into a big comfortable chair near her bed. She looked pretty in a blue, black and white silk dress, a pearl necklace and white and gold Monet-style earrings. She folded both her hands under her wrinkled yet soft cheek, put her head on the pillow and looked lovingly at me.

I met Sophie Eisner three years ago at a lecture at the Chabad House of West Hartford. A volunteer from the home and a Chabad regular had brought Sophie to hear the lecture. I sat up front at the end of the lecture to ask the speaker a question, and ended up talking to this adorable old woman.

She told me her life story — how she came from Europe as a young girl and became a businesswoman like her mother. (Her father was a Talmud chocham or wise person from Minsk.) That night, Sophie asked me, "Would you like to write my life story?" I have been, ever since. My journal at home is filled with her words of wisdom, and the story of her life.

While she lounged on her bed, we discussed the weather. Sophie said, "I love the summer." We agree on that. I mentioned how nice her new roommate's side of the room is — a bookshelf, framed pictures and small plants near a big window. Sophie replied reverently, "Her husband visits and does that. He takes care of her as if she were his baby."

"It's nice that you have a large window in your room," I said, "and one with a nice view of the tall trees." Pointing to the window, she stated matter-of-factly, "I look out that window and talk to God."

She looked seriously at me. "Go talk to God. I do all the time. I look out the window and I ask God, `Why do you keep me here so long?' I ask God about other things too. He makes everything in this world and he takes things from this world."

Often, Sophie talks about her 10 brothers and sisters, especially her sister Minnie. Minnie would cry a lot and ask her mother, "Why did God put me in this world? I am a waste of a woman." Her mother would reply, "God makes everything for a reason. Even though there is pain sometimes, we do not understand Him."

Looking at me, Sophie whispered, "Women need men. We are not independent, like men. We are different. We need them."

Then she said, "Well, tell me what's new with you. I want to hear something good," she said, changing the subject. So I told her about my recent two-week vacation in Crown Heights, where I learned a little Torah, visited friends and met some shadchans (matchmakers).

Sophie's eyes lit up. "Oh," she said. "So you were really busy in New York.

"Look for a man with a good character!" Sophie said. "Character is the foundation of the heart. Remember this. Don't look for a man who is wealthy. Money can come later on in a marriage, or earlier for that matter. It can also disappear! If he dreams of having his own business, help him establish and run one. Marry a nice Jewish boy and make sure he comes from a good family — his parents shouldn't argue and curse; they should be nice people — this is important.

"And get married while you are young. Don't wait till you are an old maid or 90!" She slapped my hand and chuckled, "And even if you don't invite me to your wedding, I'll come anyway! And I'll give you a beautiful gift!"

"Of course I'll invite you!" I told her. "You'll be the first guest on my list! And you don't have to bring a gift. Just you coming to my wedding will be my gift."

She told me how wonderful her husband was, that God gave her to him, and took him away after 66 wonderful years of marriage. Sophie's blessing.

Then came the highlight of my visit. Looking into her hazel eyes, I thought, "Let her bless me." And she did. She wished me all the happiness that God gave to her in her long life, and then added, like she always does at the end of our visits, "May God give you my years — and I am of a good old age.

"And be careful driving home! There's a lot of mishugas out there!"

In parting, we promised each other the same thing we always do, that on my next visit we'll go to the Home's cafe and have ice cream.