Stella Suberman doesn’t look like she’s 90, and she doesn’t talk like she’s 90.

Most importantly, she doesn’t write like she’s 90.

Case in point: “Our meeting went something like this: 1. Introductions; 2. A few exchanged words; 3. Game over.”

As described in her new memoir “The G.I. Bill Boys,” the year was 1940, Stella was a student at the University of Miami, and she had just met her future husband Jack Suberman.

Seventy one years later, they’re still married. “The G.I. Bill Boys” is the third memoir Suberman has written, after “The Jew Store” - growing up Jewish in a small town in Tennessee - and “When It Was Our War” - a young wife and mother coping while her husband is in India flying B-29’s for the Air Force during World War II.

For 40 years, the Suberman’s lived in Boca Raton, in a great little house in a hammock that was destroyed in the 2005 hurricane. Then they went to the beach, and a few years ago they went to Chapel Hill to be near their son and grandchildren, although they still come back every winter.

“We got a little bit old, and we have family up there and they kept saying we should come,” she says. “All the kids who beg their parents to come live near them? It’s for their convenience. If you’re in trouble in a far-off place, they have to go. They’re just trying to avoid the trip.”

Suberman hadn’t been planning on writing a third book, but…things changed.

“The last book ended with Jack coming home from the war. And people said, why don’t you tell us what happened after that? Well, I didn’t think it was terribly interesting. And then Senator Jim Webb began agitating on behalf of returning Iraq veterans, talking about a new GI bill. And I thought, that’s a new book.”

Suberman started thinking about the first G.I. Bill - the official name was The Serviceman’s Readjustment Act - and what it spawned. In the process she started remembering all the things she hadn’t remembered until Jim Webb gave her a reason.

As Suberman puts it, her book “tells a story of how a country can change itself, with a lot of effort and money. The G.I. Bill changed us into a brand new America with a middle class. And for the first time, we developed a prosperous and effective professional class.”

After the G.I. Bill paid for Jack Suberman’s higher education, they came to Boca Raton where Jack taught and became head of the English department at Florida Atlantic University. “In those days it was for juniors and seniors only, it had no athletics, it had all the parking you could want. Jack loved the idea of it. Then everything began to change. There were freshmen and sophomores, there was no parking, there was a boom in athletics. It’s changed a lot and not necessarily for the better.”

Aside from a generational saga about the flow of what is a primarily happy life, Suberman’s books are eyewitness reports about American’s transition from the rural to the urban. They’re also about a personal emotional transition, from closed to open.

“People say how could you like the south, with such bigotry and racism? Well, there were also good things, and that can be used as a template. A writer named Edward Cohen finished a book by saying that if he was in a difficult situation with an angry crowd around him, he would listen for a Southern voice and know that help was at hand. He was talking about the neighborliness of Southerners, which exists and which prevails.

“I call myself a reformed bigot, because everyone who grew up in the South was a bigot, or at least the vast majority were. But the Southern traditions of helpfulness and neighborliness are authentic.”

As for the question of age, Suberman figures that, all things considered, she’s doing OK. “I look pretty good, but I have my father’s genes. He died at 90, and he was always great looking, with a good head - he wasn’t always right, but he was always good. And my husband Jack is the same way. He’s very up about things, and curious. I think curiosity is the saving grace for old people.”

The tough part about writing a memoir from the vantage point of great age is that nearly everybody you’re talking about is dead. But Suberman didn’t find the process depressing.

“I don’t have a lot of sadness about people that are gone. You expect that, and you come to terms with that. You really do. There’s no bemoaning it. That’s the way it is, and you have to be a realist about it. Romanticism doesn’t work. If you’re going to handle life in all its permutations, with all that’s thrown at you, you’ve got to be a realist.”

The corresponding benefit of looking back over a long life is observing with some wonder how society changes, often in sudden lurches after long periods of stasis.

“If life teaches you anything, it’s that America has problems with minorities, with divisions of class, but we respond to it in the end, and my book is a salute to that. It takes us a long time, but we do it.”

Will she write another book? “Probably not. I sort of feel like I’ve said what I had to say. I know don’t want to do a book about the advantages to being old. Are there any? Well, yes. You can say ‘No’ anytime you want to without any excuses. People don’t question you, they just say, ‘Well, they’re old.’ It’s a real advantage - you don’t have to do a lot of social conversation if you don’t care to. Believe me, it’s a blessing.”