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13. 103 YEARS OLD WITH NOTHING TO SAY (Sept. 2002)
'Read an article 'bout a 103-year-old woman who had absolutely
nothing to say about anything. So what else is new? When I was very young, oh,
around 8, which places me in 1955, my greatgrandfather Jacob came up from
Florida and he visited us one afternoon. He was born sometime between 1866 and
1868, according to my father, and he died a few years after seeing us. His birth
was just a few years, maybe less than one year, after Abraham Lincoln's
assassination. He lived to see spaceships.
And he never said squat to me about nothin'.
He was like all my old relatives. No matter what marvels they lived
through they were silent about them. I mean, you'd think before he died he'd
have sat his eldest greatgrandchild on his knee and started: "Here are the
marvels I have seen. Now, come, see them through my eyes."
Yeah, right.
See, generally when I read an account of a really old person, I'm
stupified by their banality and disinterest. They seem to have lived without
curiosity. Most worked at the most ordinary jobs, but sometimes for generations.
They generally seem to have had placid, take-it-as-it-comes temperments. Vices
were small, but those they had they enjoyed. The Type A types don't seem to
reach 110. They keel over with their heart attacks at 56, clutching their
precious but suddenly meaningless money.
Now if I ever have a greatgrandchild I'll want to
tell him my story.
He'll probably have no interest.
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