His cousin, Lillian Rhoney of Rutherford College.

And she made a little speech doing it, pointing out that the dime and P.H. were the same age.

But the silver dollar dated 1899? Now that was something else. Someone must have slipped that in his pocket without saying a word when he wasn’t looking.

Or maybe it was when he wasn’t listening closely enough. Maybe someone said, “I’m giving you a little something for your birthday,” and he just didn’t hear it. After all, he does wear hearing aids.

But, hey, what’s wrong with wearing hearing aids when you’re 100 years old? They sure helped him hear about everything else that went on during a birthday celebration that lasted three days.

Why, friends and relatives of Rowan County’s longtime farm agent — 1942 to 1962 — and the oldest member of the N.C. Association of County Agricultural Agents had three parties.

First, his friends at Trinity Oaks, where he’s been living for several years, gave him a reception out there and made a donation to Cleveland United Methodist Church in his honor.

And then Friday night the family honored him at a cookout at his home in Cleveland. He’s not living there, a friend is, but it will always be home to Mr. Satterwhite. All three of his children, Lucy Gibson and Thomas Satterwhite of Cleveland and Rosa Lee Slate of Winston-Salem, were there with all the grandchildren and great-grandchildren who could get there. They ate hamburgers and hot dogs and birthday cake. And he got two books— a history of the past 100 years and one written by people 100 years old or older, so everybody knows what he’s doing now.

He’s reading those books, of course. That’s what he does most of the time now.

But the present that tickled him most was one a great-grandson, Avery Garrison of Atlanta, gave him. Avery compiled a timeline of all the major events of the past 100 years and put it in a loose leaf binder, and Grandpop couldn’t wait to get at it. So he just leafed through it then and there, looking at all the things that happened in his 100 years.

Of course, he doesn’t remember the Wright brothers first flight on Dec. 17, 1903. He wasn’t quite 4 years old yet. He likes to tell people he was born before the first plane flew but his only son, Thomas, grew up to be an Air Force pilot who logged 10,200 hours in seven different planes.

And he had such a good time talking and remembering and got so tired that he almost slept through his big party at Cleveland United Methodist Church on Saturday afternoon. Now that would have been a real shame. Why, there were at least 125 people there, and for a man who’s outlived most of his friends, well, it says something about what kind of friend he was.

But his daughter, Rosa Lee, woke him up, and if they hadn’t told, probably nobody would have noticed they were a few minutes late. And he let her push him into the church in his wheelchair.

“He can get around ,” says his grandson Steve’s wife, Robin, “but it’s hard for him.”

Not so hard that he’s ready to leave his apartment yet. Navigating with his walker, he fixes his own breakfast every morning and doesn’t need help to take his shower.

“We’re trying to talk him into going over to the assisted living area at the North Carolina Lutheran Home where Trinity Oaks is located,” Robin says, “but he’s not ready to give in yet.” He can still do for himself — and tell a joke at a party.

He told the joke Friday night, which was really his birthday, when someone said he’d visited all the Rowan County farms and never minded giving advice, so how about a little advice on how to live to 100?

Well, he said, he’d heard about this man who went to see a doctor about that.

“Doctor,” the man said, “I don’t drink, I don’t smoke and I don’t run around. Will I live to be a hundred?”

“No,” the doctor said, “but it will seem like it.”

Of course, that got the biggest laugh of the night.

But maybe the biggest hits were those two cards David Fleming, a longtime family friend, brought from Raleigh. One was signed by Michael O’Cain, head football coach at North Carolina State, and the other was signed by the head basketball coach, Herb Sendek.

But he didn’t get on the “Today” show with Willard Scott.

The show gets about 100 requests a week for 100-year-olds to be recognized, and he can only use six on Tuesdays and six on Thursdays. They choose as many men as they can, Robin says, because not as many men as women make it to 100, but everybody whose name is sent gets a personal letter.

“Grandpop hasn’t got his yet,” she adds, but he will and he’ll think that’s wonderful just as he thinks it’s wonderful that her daughters, Elizabeth, 5, and Emily, 4, call him Greatpop.

“They heard us say, ‘This is Great-Grandpop,’ ” she says, “and they shortened it to something better.”

Only a Greatpop could still remember hearing both his grandfathers telling stories about being in the Civil War and tell his own stories about walking three miles to school and never missing a day and about teaching a bright young pupil named Jim Graham at Cleveland School in the ’30s and getting electricity to Rowan County farmers in the ’40s.

He still believes electricity is the most amazing thing he’s seen in his 100 years. Ironically, he and his wife were at an agricultural convention in New York City during its blackout. That killed the fine banquet they were supposed to attend, so they shared one apple in their dark hotel room and never forgot it.

And all those memories were wonderful on his 100th birthday. But he partied all weekend, and when the festivities were over, he was tired.

So the conclusion was inevitable.