Suicide of old men

December 2, 2010


A local (and Buffalo) sports writer lost his life to cancer the other day. He seemed like a decent person. Everyone laments his passing. But in a few days most people will forget about him. As they will me. And you. And this is as it should be. Shakespeare is remembered for his plays. But it is not Shakespeare we remember. But his work. Many people are remembered through their work. Although I have heard that no one is too sure what Shakespeare was like as a person. And what of the great Greek dramatists? Or so much of ancient Greek art. Their greatest work has been destroyed. Or been lost.  Anonymous may be human kind’s greatest artist. It sounds Greek. Certainly not Irish. My father died a very quiet death. He did nothing remarkable during his life. He survived a war. And a depression. And my mother. So what is it that drives people to accomplish anything? The pleasure of doing, I suppose. Anything else is just vanity.

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