Alice Carver is almost six months shy of her 100th birthday, and she figures now is a good time to shed a few belongings.

“I’ve got a million cupboards in this house,” she said. “I am halfway into my 99th year, and I’m getting rid of all kinds of things.”

Carver leaned back against the chair in a comfortable kitchen that has warmed many souls since the house was built in the early 1800s. Outside the many windows, the grass was greening up in the May fog, and where the lawn sloped to the Lincolnville Beach shore, a clutch of trees sidled up to the rocks of Penobscot Bay. More than 150 years ago, the lower part of her yard was humming with industrial enterprise, common along the beach, and before the storms over the centuries receded the banks, an old horse and buggy trail ran along the shoreline to Ducktrap.

These days, it is much quieter there, but Carver has expansive views of bay traffic. Not that she is sitting and watching all day, however. She has many pursuits, and keeps a sharp ear to the news, wondering what makes people tick. In her 99 years, she has seen much, living in various parts of the United States and traveling across the globe, both with husbands and without. Her favorite place? Lincolnville Beach, where she has lived for 37 years.

She was born Dec. 8, 1912, “the same years as Fenway and the sinking of the Titanic,” she said. “I think that year the Red Sox beat the Giants in a World Series. Look that up. See if it isn’t true. [True: Wednesday, Oct. 16, 1912, at Fenway.] I think it was the first time anybody with a parachute had jumped out of a plane.”

In 1974, she and her first husband, Fred, were driving along Route 1 through Lincolnville Beach on their way to Orland when they drove by the house. Its owner was tacking up a “for sale” sign.

“My husband rolled down the window and asked, ‘What are you selling?'” she said. “‘The house,’ he said.”

They moved in that Thanksgiving.

Now, Carver is bringing out items from the trunks, and among them, an American flag in pristine condition, bearing 48 stars. It was the flag that was draped over her father’s coffin in 1960 as he was laid to rest during a military service in Los Angeles.

“He died the year after Hawaii became a state,” said Carver. “I have had the flag packed away for 50 years.”

But this coming Monday, May 30, the large flag will be hung inside the post office at Lincolnville Beach, honoring the dead on Memorial Day.

Born in Buffalo, N.Y., Edward Arnold was Carver’s father, a corporal in the U.S. Army who served through the entire World War I, 1914 to 1918, in France.

“Until Armistice was declared,” said Carver. On that day, Nov. 11, 1918, the allies and Germany agreed to cease fire at 11 a.m., ending along the Western Front one of the most devastating wars in history, with more than 20 million perishing.

For Corporal Arnold, a young man from Buffalo, N.Y., with a baby girl back home, there was one final task that day. He was in charge of a makeshift prison for German soldiers, jailed in a large barn in a field outside Paris. After 11 a.m., he took the large iron key and unlocked the stalls that held the soldiers, letting the Germans go free. Then, he went home, and never talked much more about that war.

“A lot of people died for nothing,” said Carver. “Wars. We’ve always had them. Some are so senseless.”

Memorial Day, observed the last Monday of May, was formerly known as Decoration Day, commemorating U.S. soldiers who died while in the military service. It was first enacted to honor Union soldiers of the American Civil War, and was extended after World War I to honor Americans who have died in all wars.

“The flag has never been flown,” said Carver. “It has just been packed away. I would like it to be flown just once, before it gets put away again.”