I read yesterday that the oldest person in the world, a man in Spain, has died. He was 117 years old. Several hours later, the following song kept running through my head:
Ol' man river, that ol' man river,
He don't say nothin'
But must know somethin',
He just keeps rollin', he keeps on rollin' along.
He don't plant taters, he don't plant cotton,
An' them that plants 'em are soon forgotten
But ol' man river, he just keeps rollin' along.
You and me, we sweat and strain,
Bodies all achin' and wracked withh pain.
Tote that barge! Lift that bale!
You get a little drunk an' you land in jail.
I get weary and sick of tryin',
I'm tired of livin' and scared of dyin,
But ol' man river, he just keeps rollin' along.
(end of song)
It seemeed an odd song to appear so suddenly, full-grown like Athena from the forehead of Zeus, with all lyrics intact, playing on my mental radio station. I put two and two together and decided that it
must have been having learned of the death of the world's oldest man that set the wheels turning in my sub-conscious and thrust the song into my consciousness.
No one knows how long one's lifespan will be. Some people die quite young, and some live to a ripe old age. Me, I'm 83 now and my wife just turned 89. She has survived to be the longest-livedp person in her family line, her father and an aunt both having lived to be 88 years, 6 months old. In my own case, I will have to outlast both an aunit who lived to be 88 years, 8 months old and a grandfather who lived to be 95 years, 9 months old to be able to claim "longest-lived member of the family" status. Do I intend to try? You betcha. Do I hope I make it? As Gabby Hayes may or may not have said to various heroes in western movies of the 1940s, "yer durn tootin'." But do I aspire to live long enough to dethrone our recently departed Spanish friend? I'm not so sure. I'll have to think more on that one. I'll get back to you.
In the meantime, as I look back over my life so far, I reflect on the fact that I have never toted a barge, lifted a bale, got a little drunk, or landed in jail (one of those claims is not true), and I will continue to revel in the fact that though I sometimes do get weary, I am not yet sick of tryin', tired of livin', or, since I am a Christian, scared of dyin'. Until the end comes, I will pull myself up by my bootstraps each morning and, like Ol' Man River, just keep rollin' along.
It's not really how long you live but the quality of life you have. I hope the 117 year old enjoyed life to the end.
ReplyDeleteQuality certainly has its points but quantity is not to be sniffed at. I often wish my mother had lived longer than 47 years. Thank you, Keith.
DeleteLiving long is one thing, living healthily long quite another.
ReplyDeleteThe latter is certainly preferable to the former. Thank you, Janice.
DeleteMy mother's oldest sister will be 100 years old in a couple of weeks. Her mother (my grandmother) was 84 years old when she died. Other than that I am longest lived in my family. I have also out-lived three of my youmger siblings which is not right. I'm glad tp be here but I miss my brothers and my sister.
ReplyDeleteThere seem to be quite a few older people active in the blogosphere. I'm just glad we're all still going strong. Thank you, Emma.
DeleteI come from a long line of very long livers on my mother's side and my father lived until his mid 90s. Almost all, thankfully, had they faculties as well. I wish you and yours well.
ReplyDeleteHaving our faculties is great. I just wish we all still had the levels of energy and mobility of our younger selves. Thank you, Graham.
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