It's been a while since I wrote anything on this blog. Discovered this as I was going through it. Not sure why I never published it, but here it is in memorial of Mr. Manny.
Today the oldest man in the world died at age 146. This means that when I was born in 1970, he was already a century old. I wonder if a man that lives that long can ever be surprised, intrigued or impressed by what he sees. It was reported that this man had long wanted to die, so I guess longevity is overrated. Since this man lived through many of the most triumphant and tumultuous times in the world’s history, one would think that it would’ve been fascinating or even inspiring to be a fly on the wall of his psyche while he thought his last thoughts and made his final assessments of the life he lived and the world he lived it in. It is also possible that he could’ve just been thinking about how bad his heartburn was after that last sandwich or bowl of rice he ate. The fact is, I’m not even sure if there is even a point to this anecdote, which ironically makes the point that this man’s long life may not have had a point either.
Tonight, I was also informed of another death. His name was Mr. Manny. It’s funny, I don’t think I ever knew his first name. But what I do remember is he had a daughter that went to my school and although she wasn’t my best student, she had a pleasant disposition just like her dad. She inherited his short stature and immense personality. His was manifested in his ability to engage people. He was one of the first people to acknowledge my presence at that school at a time when I didn’t think my presence mattered. I suppose I could regret not ever getting to thank him for that, but I have faith that somehow, he knows…somehow. Mr. Manny didn’t live to be a hundred and forty-six, but I know that his life mattered because he was an artist at showing others that theirs' did. And for that I will be forever grateful. May he rest in peace.