At 116 years old, she has outlived generations of loved ones. But Edie is adored by her entire town.

When Edith Ceccarelli was born in February 1908, Theodore Roosevelt was president, Oklahoma had just become the nation's 46th state and women did not yet have the right to vote.

At 116 years old, Ms. Ceccarelli is the oldest known person in the United States and the second oldest on Earth. She has lived through two world wars, the advent of the Ford Model T – and the two deadliest pandemics in American history.

For most of that time, she has lived in one place: Willits, a town hidden in the California redwood forests that was once known for logging but is now perhaps better known for Mrs. Ceccarelli.

At Willits City Hall, where 100-foot redwoods tower above you, a gold-framed photo of Ms. Ceccarelli sits in a display case. Last year, the Mendocino County Board of Supervisors proclaimed February 5 as a day to celebrate the province's favorite daughter.

“When she celebrated her 100th birthday, the whole community was kind of in awe, and she became a bit of a local celebrity,” said Mayor Saprina Rodriguez, who at 52 is less than half Ms. Ceccarelli's age.

Nestled in a valley surrounded by forested peaks in rural Mendocino County, on California's northern coast, Willits thrived on the booming timber industry when Mrs. Ceccarelli was a little girl. But that boom is long gone and Willits remains a small working-class community of about 5,000 people.

Because it's located about 30 miles inland from the Pacific Ocean, Willits has never attracted the tourists who flock to coastal destinations like Mendocino and Fort Bragg, with their Instagrammable wineries and seaside cliffside cottages, along with whale-watching opportunities.

But none of these places have Mrs. Ceccarelli.

On Sunday, Willits hosted his annual celebration for his dearest resident, who watched from the porch of her nursing home. It was raining, the beginning of a new atmospheric river – what they simply called torrential rain for most of Mrs. Ceccarelli's life – but no one in Willits thought about canceling the annual festivities.

A parade of flashing police cars and fire trucks passed by. Then a garbage truck. Sedans decorated with streamers, balloons and flowers followed, carrying residents who waved and sang for their beloved Edie.

“She's a local icon,” said Suzanne Picetti-Johnson, a longtime Willits resident who donned a raincoat and hat and drove an SUV with “Happy Sweet 116!” scrawled on the rear window. “She has always been a joy, and we are thrilled to celebrate her for another year.”

On February 5, 1908, Edith Recagno was delivered by her aunt to a house in Willits that her father had built by hand. The house had no electricity or running water, so a hand-dug well provided the family with drinking water and, in lieu of a refrigerator, a cool place to hang milk and meat.

She was the first of seven children born to Agostino and Maria Recagno, Italian immigrants drawn to Mendocino County by opportunity. Willits, where bright green moss covers tree trunks and giant ferns unfurl along the banks of icy creeks, was settled by pioneering ranchers in the 1850s as fortune seekers flocked to California during the Gold Rush.

But then big trees became big business here. Forests of ancient redwoods and other trees were cut down and sent south to help build a rapidly growing San Francisco. Mrs. Ceccarelli's father worked as a carpenter to expand the railroad to Willits, allowing Bay Area tourists to vacation in the fresh mountain air of the Redwood Empire in the early 20th century. For $2.50 a night, guests at the 100-room Hotel Willits could enjoy tennis courts, a bowling alley and a dining room known as the nicest north in San Francisco.

Growing up, Ms. Ceccarelli played basketball, tennis and saxophone — her mother had to save money to buy the instrument — and she loved to sing and dance. She remembered her father, who opened a grocery store in Willits in 1916, chopping firewood and bringing it home after work.

“He would sit with us after dinner and help us read,” Mrs. Ceccarelli once said wrote. “He only had a third-grade education, but he was smart. I can still see the oil lamp on the table where we read.”

From that moment on, Mrs. Ceccarelli's life unfolded like that of many others. She married her high school sweetheart Elmer Keenan at age 25, and they moved to nearby Santa Rosa, where he took a job as a typesetter at The Press Democrat newspaper. The couple soon adopted a daughter. In 1971, after her husband retired, the couple returned to Willits.

Ms. Ceccarelli was getting older, but not everyone in her life was so lucky. Her husband died in 1984, after more than fifty years of marriage. Mrs. Ceccarelli remarried and her second husband, Charles Ceccarelli, died in 1990. Her daughter died in 2003 at age 64. Mrs. Ceccarelli has since survived her six younger siblings, as well as her three granddaughters, each of whom died in 2003 in their 40s due to a genetic condition.

“They're all gone — they've been gone for years and years,” said Evelyn Persico, 84, as she flipped through black-and-white photo albums with Ms. Ceccarelli's cursive captions. Mrs. Persico, who is married to Mrs. Ceccarelli's second cousin and lives on a farm in Willits, is one of her few remaining relatives.

So as her 100th birthday approached in 2008, Mrs. Ceccarelli herself extended the invitation to all of Willits. Despite decades of changes, such as the 101 Freeway running through Main Street and the growth of marijuana farms, Willits remained a close-knit community. The elegant Ms. Ceccarelli had become known for never missing a dance at the senior center and for her daily walks around town.

Wearing a fuchsia suit and heels, she waltzed alongside more than 500 people who came to celebrate her new centennial status, and the then-mayor placed a tiara on her white hair.

From then on, Ms. Ceccarelli's birthday will be celebrated every year with a party, a luncheon or, in the Covid era, a parade, open to all Willits residents. Often wearing a colorful scarf and pearls, she passed on her wisdom on how to live a long life: “Have a few fingers of red wine with dinner and mind your own business.”

Other years she regaled guests with stories from days gone by, about meeting a man who had lunch with Abraham Lincoln or hearing all the bells in Willits ring on Nov. 11, 1918, signaling the end of World War I.

“I like the small town, you know more people,” Ms. Ceccarelli told the local newspaper just before her 107th birthday party. “You go to a big city, you don't know anyone.”

When her longtime dance partner and companion died, she once again turned to Willits for support. She placed an advertisement in the local newspaper:

“I, Edith Ceccarelli, also called 'Edie' by her family and many friends, would like to continue dancing,” she says wrote in 2012. “Dancing keeps your limbs strong. What could be better than holding a sweet lady in your arms and dancing a beautiful waltz or two-step together?

“Try it, you'll like it,” she added, along with her phone number. She was 104 years old at the time.

Mrs. Ceccarelli lived on her own until she was 107 and then moved to a nursing home in Willits. She now lives an average of 37 years longer than American women. The only person known to be older than her is Maria Branyas Morera, who lives in Spain, but was born in San Francisco eleven months before Ms. Ceccarelli.

The city has taken over the planning of her birthday parties as her dementia has recently progressed, meaning she is not always aware of what is happening. On the morning of her party, she seemed pleased to hear that everyone was there for her. She enjoyed a taste of her carrot cake decorated with '116'.

“I just admire her,” said Ms. Persico, who greeted Ms. Ceccarelli that day with a kiss on the forehead. “I can't believe this little Italian baby has such an amazing record of longevity, coming from such a small town like us.”