He died just weeks before his 112th birthday and was officially credited as the world's oldest man by the Gerontology Research Group in California.
The supercentenarian (someone who lives past 110 years) saw two world wars, the Titanic sink and the Berlin Wall come down, but, in an interview last month, he claimed mankind's greatest triumph was the invention of the airplane. The Wright Brothers successfully tested their first plane when he was a baby.
During meditation this morning, I sat in peace, no longer troubled by petty wrangles from colleagues or neighbors. I compared my life to my daily stroll up and down the steep footpath outside my home. Walking on two legs with the aid of four wheels, I'm like a beetle, passed by scurrying ants with their legs flashing by so fast I can hardly catch their movement. And on the narrow road beside me, cars whiz by like insects.
It seems to me that when age forces a withdrawal from the helter-skelter rush of society, an aging person is forced to look into themselves and see their attributes. I've made many mistakes in my life, but I've forgiven myself and moved on. Now is the perfect time to write. For me, that writing takes the form of novels, where I can infuse my stories with experience and imagination.
Something protruded from the rock beside him. Flaking red and grey paint dotted the ground. He bent close to a line of scurrying ants. A clear shiny substance, like wings of a dragonfly, covered some crumbling material that resembled soft white bark. With a light touch to avoid more damage, he grasped the object. The wrapping filled the palm of his hand. Something hard inside. He reached through a slit and pulled out a metal object smaller than an oak leaf.
Hm, what was it? A long square box with windows in the side. Six tiny wheels spun along the bottom. Once, he’d dreamed about sitting inside a gigantic version of this thing. He’d been with Cerridwen and she’d called it a train. Felt like a dragon had swallowed them and hurtled along the ground with them bouncing in its stomach. His memory faded, he couldn’t recall what the dream had been about. Only that she was there with him, telling him everything was all right.
Aron studied the small wheel-thing in his hand. A train for ants? He snorted. About to throw the before-times trash away, he changed his mind. He’d ask Cerridwen if she’d seen anything like it before.
Back to reality. If you were interviewed today, what events would you place as the most important?