I don’t know why the following fascinates me so, but it does: in about six years, give or take, there will be no one left alive who was born in the 1800s.
Based on the birth dates of the people officially recognized as the world’s oldest, and assuming top-end outlier lifespans remains roughly constant, some time in 2014 we should see the death of the last person whose life spans three centuries. I know that doesn’t really mean anything; it’s just a random distribution of regularly-occurring events around arbitrary milestones, but still…it seems weird. Or rather, it seems wonderful that someone alive today saw the death and birth of two centuries, and also seems vaguely sad that after they pass on we won’t see another of their kind for 86 years.
OK, that’s enough of that, I need to lighten the mood in here a little. Who’s up for some Tequila and a round of Yahtzee? We can call it Yahtzila. Or Tequizee, that’s fine…I’m not married to either.
0 thoughts on “Six short years to listen to their scattered, rambling memories”
This means that you are (a) a historical romantic and (b) a math nerd. I think that’s kind of nice.