Lessons in living well at 102: What Brian Barry teaches us about brain health

On 6 February, Sydney local Brian Barry turns 102. He doesn’t see himself as extraordinary. He says he “just kept going”, that his long life is “luck”, and that he talks “a lot of rot”.

Spend even a few minutes with him and a different picture emerges: sharp recall, quick humour, deep empathy and a lived philosophy that mirrors what decades of brain ageing research has been working to understand.

Ageing, Brian would say, comes for all of us. Dementia doesn’t have to.

Dementia is common. It is not inevitable.

As of 2025, dementia is the leading cause of death in Australia, surpassing heart disease and cancer. More than 400,000 Australians are currently living with dementia, and that number is projected to rise steeply as the population ages.

Yet dementia is still widely misunderstood. It is often assumed to be a normal or inevitable part of growing older. Research tells us this is not the case.

At the Centre for Healthy Brain Ageing (CHeBA) at UNSW Sydney, researchers have spent years studying why some people in their 90s and beyond maintain unusually strong memory and thinking abilities. They call them “super-agers”.

Brian is one of them.

When asked what he says to himself each morning, he doesn’t hesitate:

“You wake up every morning, I say to myself: Brian, you’re here another day. Thank the Lord.”

It is a simple ritual of gratitude. For researchers, it also reflects something deeper: purpose, positivity and continued engagement with life.

From bread and dripping to bare feet at school

Brian grew up in Cremorne Junction, behind the old Orpheum picture theatre. His childhood was shaped by the Great Depression, when food was basic and nothing was wasted.

“Bread and dripping was a big thing,” he recalls. “You thought it was the greatest thing.”

At Christmas, one chicken fed the whole family. Shoes were reserved for special occasions.

“At Christmas time, you got a pair of shoes, but you couldn’t wear them to school – they were just for visiting Uncle Bob and Auntie May. You went to school with bare feet, even in winter. It never entered your mind that you had to have shoes on.”

Life was hard, but it was shared. Neighbours swapped eggs for vegetables. Children were taught respect and responsibility.

“Manners were taught at home, not out in the street,” Brian says. “You opened the door for your mother. You gave up your seat on the bus. If I didn’t, I’d get my ear pinched.”

Today, social connection is recognised as one of the strongest protective factors against dementia. Brian never used that language. He simply lived in a community where connection was the norm.

Movement, service and staying engaged

Brian left school at 15 and landed what he calls his dream job at a sweet factory in Rozelle.

“I thought I’d struck gold,” he laughs. “A lolly factory!”

When war came, the factory shifted from sweets to bandages. Brian was deployed to New Guinea for two and a half years.

“You see the war and you see these poor blokes being brought out on stretchers, only young in their life,” he says quietly. “Some would never walk again. Bloody awful.”

After the war, he worked as a tram conductor, then tram driver, then bus driver, roles that kept him physically active and in daily contact with the public. Later, he spent 20 years as a referee with the National Rugby League, officiating first grade games and grand finals.

“I enjoyed every minute of it,” he says. “The camaraderie with the other referees – you never forget it.”

Legendary referee Bill Harrigan says:

“Brian is one of the world’s greatest people – 100% a gentleman and I’ve only met a few of them in my lifetime.

“My only regret is that I didn’t know him earlier,” says Harrigan.

Now a Life Member and Ambassador of the NSW Rugby League Referees Association, Brian only gave up driving a few years ago and still organises the referees’ annual lawn bowls days.

His granddaughter Louise notes he never smoked, never drank alcohol and exercised consistently throughout his life. From a research perspective, his lifestyle aligns closely with known brain-protective factors: physical activity, social engagement, avoiding smoking and heavy alcohol use, and maintaining a strong sense of purpose.

Brian never described these as health strategies. To him, they were simply part of living well.

Love, dementia and daily kindness

Brian’s story is also one of caregiving.

He met his wife Rose when they were both 15, sitting on a gas box after a picnic at Clifton Gardens. Their first date was to see Gone with the Wind in the city. He offered her an ice cream at interval. She declined.

They built a life together. Decades later, in her early 80s, Rose began to change.

“She made an apple pie and put raw chicken in it,” he recalls. “Little things. Putting butter on the stove and setting it on fire. Leaving the bath running and flooding the house.”

Rose was eventually diagnosed with dementia. Brian visited her in residential aged care every day, often from 10am to 5pm. Some days she was affectionate. Other days she accused him of not visiting.

“It was very hurtful sometimes,” he says. “But I knew her brain wasn’t like mine anymore.”

His advice to families caring for someone with dementia is direct:

“Be kind. Be kind to that person because their brain is not like your brain. They’re in their own body, but they can’t give you what they used to give you before.”

In Australia, around 1.7 million people are involved in caring for someone living with dementia. The condition does not affect individuals alone; it reshapes families and communities, often over many years.

Brian is unwavering in his support for research.

“If we can improve that little bit of knowledge and say to the person looking after someone with dementia that there can be hope in the later years, that would mean a lot.

If you keep working on it, you’re going to bring gratitude to a lot of people. Science today is brilliant.”

And finally: “Keep trying.”

What the research shows

CHeBA’s long-running studies of centenarians, twins and adults over 65 show that while ageing is universal, dementia risk is not fixed.

Up to around half of dementia risk is linked to modifiable factors across the life course, including education, physical activity, blood pressure, diet quality, smoking, social isolation, depression and exposure to air pollution.

Many of these factors are shaped decades before old age. Brain health is not something that starts at 80. It is a lifelong issue.

Brian’s life illustrates this pattern:

• He avoided smoking and alcohol.
• He remained physically active through work and refereeing.
• He maintained strong social networks across family, colleagues and community.
• He lives with gratitude and purpose, beginning each day thankful for “another day”.

None of these guarantee protection from dementia. But together, they form a pattern increasingly recognised among super-agers: lives rich in connection, movement, meaning and kindness.

“Enjoy what you’ve got.”

Asked for advice to younger generations, Brian keeps it simple:

“Enjoy that life. Look forward to that life. Every day is a different day but enjoy what you’ve got.”

He is equally clear about his legacy:

“For them to realise that I’ve loved them all the time they’ve been with me. What I leave them, I give with love. I adore my family. I really do.”

Behind the humour is a man who has spent more than a century showing up for others: as a husband, father, grandfather, worker, referee and neighbour.

Ageing is inevitable, but dementia is not. Research shows that risk is shaped not only by biology, but by the environments we build and the lives we lead. Science and community both play a role. So do everyday factors that can sound simple but are anything but: staying connected, remaining active, finding purpose, and treating people with kindness. These are not optional extras in later life. They are central to healthy brain ageing.