One Quarter and One Half

My late grandfather (on the right) and I have about 25% of our genes in common.

This photo was taken when he was about a third of my age. Looking back at yourself-not-yourself through an old photograph is, for me, strangely calming. Here is a man, part of me, looking ahead in life, looking forward to what I’ve already left behind. The life of a farmer/laborer during the twenties and thirties was not exactly trend-setting. A semi-skilled worker, a man without pretense, but an honest man. A man of the 19th century, who lived long enough to find himself out-dated in a world that had rapidly changed.

But those genes! Even with a diet of white bread and Snüs he lived well beyond his expectancy—the blessing/curse of most Scandinavians. “Too dumb to know when to die” I’ve heard it said, but the fact remains that the three-score and ten rule is, barring calamity, about 20% low for this ethnic group. It makes estate planning especially daunting.

Here’s to you Charlie Aaron! And to your pal in the photo (with that jaunty hat it might well be “Poker Charlie”.) And here’s to you, my great-uncle Oscar, the family ne’er-do-well, whose pictures are all that remain of that fine summer day, so many, many years ago.

From the Oscar Aaron Anderson archives.