From "French adventurer, 75, dies in attempt to row across the Atlantic/Jean-Jacques Savin, a former paratrooper, wanted ‘to laugh at old age’ but got into difficulties off the Azores" (The Guardian).
I don't much celebrate birthdays — do you? — but I don't think I'd even consider celebrating my birthday while alone, and if I did, I might come up with the idea of champagne and some special food, but not of picking up a musical instrument and serenading myself.
It's so charming — don't you think? — that mandolin, foie gras, and champagne. I look to see — when was his birthday? Did he get to that birthday before the deathday popped up in the timeline of fate? Yes, he did. His birthday was January 14th. He died on the 21st.
पोस्ट्स
३५ टिप्पण्या:
Unless it's a pedal boat the mandolin playing interferes with rowing.
Laughing at old age?
Similar to grade crossings. The train always wins; the car always loses.
It seems so selfish to indulge in this kind of extreme adventurism because, if things go wrong, it takes publicly funded resources to come to the rescue...even if it's just to find the place of death and extract the body. The rule should be that if there is any money left in the individual's estate, it should go to reimburse the gov't agencies that were involved in the rescue search.
I rowed 11 miles - indoors - and it was brutal.
Saw a list of record albums on Ace of Spades HQ that were 50 years old the other day. WHEW! Flashed on my mom listening to Sarah Vaughn on the stereo when I was a kid. Not a celebration so much as amazement I made it this far.
I love it! Foie gras, champagne, and a mandolin! I love the sound of a mandolin. That is a proper way to celebrate one's birthday, especially as you go out.
I'll have to time this.
I am 4+ years short of this geezer age. Most, if not all, life-risking adventures are off my radar. While I admire his courage, his judgment skills seemed lacking in a large way.
"A man must know his limitations." (Noted statesman/philosopher Clint Eastwood)
I've always requested some time to myself on Mother's Day - not the whole day, just an hour or two, especially when the kids were little. I crave time alone and don't get much of it (so I've learned to enjoy time with others more, as I'm not a mean idiot who doesn't realize how lucky she is to have a loving family and friends).
And I love to play the piano, but (a) I don't have one and (b) when I'm in a place where there is one, I'm sensitive to the fact that not everyone loves to have me noodling on it, so I only play when I'm alone. So I can see it! I wouldn't be serenading myself, just recreating in a way I don't have much chance to in everyday life.
I “think” some people are so afraid of the dying process that they end up dying by trying to live harder. A sloppy sentence.
The thought of lingering, being a burden, being unable to take care of themselves… all these issues existing outside of themselves (what they’ve seen, heard, witnessed, imagined…) it’s in the future.
In Bambi- all the animals of the forest hide from man. Man is in the forest. Those poor partridge- hunkered down in the underbrush- and one is so frightened… she bursts up out of cover in panic. Boom.
The mandolin is just silent, by then.
And no- I’m appreciative of well wishes, but celebrate is a strong word.
And I would never dare laugh at death. A smile on my face when I go would be nice, though.
His birthday was January 14th. He died on the 21st.
it was Probably the goose grease that killed him
Gambling has now permeated our culture. Vegas publishes odds for nearly everything. I wonder if Jean-Jacques checked the probability of success. My guess for odds: Success 2%, Rescued at Sea 18%, Meeting His Demise 80%.
Update: France has reported Jean-Jacques has succumbed from Covid.
Immediately thought of that old game "My grandmother went to China and along with her she brought........."
Humperdink said...
Update: France has reported Jean-Jacques has succumbed from Covid.
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Well done.
See what social distancing does.
I know from playing Skyrim that adventurers die a lot. Fighting dragons and draugr, trolls and necromancers, can take its toll. Not to mention falling off a mountain or drowning. Some things are inherently risky in real life and you can’t just pick up from your last saved game. Sometimes, like the frozen dead climbers on Mount Everest, your demise can only serve as a warning to others.
When I rode my bicycle across France, I brought along a harmonica. There are many cobblestone streets in French towns. When I was in a mostly empty campground, I unpacked it. Every screw had worked itself out. I had an Ikea harmonica. Shoulda brought a kazoo. I imagine saltwater is hard on a mandolin.
Clyde, sometimes you just take an arrow to the knee and have to find other employment. Less exciting but safer and involves less shouting and such.
I used to observe birthdays ending in a 0 by making life affirming resolutions for the coming year. I did succeed in giving up smoking, running a marathon, and learning a foreign language. By such affirmations do we demonstrate that our life is not a waste of time and we are becoming wiser, better people as we move through time. My next 0 birthday is preceded by an eight. I'm glad I made it this far, but I'm having trouble thinking up a life affirming resolution. Maybe I'll move into an assisted living home. That would be more prudent than rowing across the Atlantic, but so far as life affirming resolutions go, it doesn't have all that much resonance and brio.
@William - I'm in the same situation. Tell me what you come up with.
It’s better than Joe Biden’s approach to laughing at old age, which was to get handsy with teenaged and adolescent girls while the TV cameras were rolling.
"I don't think I'd even consider celebrating my birthday while alone"
This would be true if you never told anyone about the celebration, but this guy blabbed about it, so it was really a performance. There just wasn't an audience there at the time because it was aimed at a future audience.
Why a mandolin?
Because it's tiny. And has 8 strings. On a rowboat, string-to-size ratio is critical.
Why foie gras? Optimal tastiness-to-size ratio.
Why champagne? Optimal Frenchness-to-size ratio.
I can row a boat, canoe?
I'm so happy that he died doing what he loved. That has to be the most cruel ironic death there is, no? The enlightenment at the end of the tunnel is a runaway train.
I think being alone on a Birthday would be a gift, particularly if you are surrounded by too many people every other day of your life. Not celebrating is a type of celebration.
You don't celebrate birthdays, and you don't celebrate Christmas. That's not Jehovah's Witness?
I keep thinking about a post that you wrote, last month, I think. That holidays destroy the everyday-ness, of a day---or some such. I really thought about that a lot. One does get into a pattern, or rhythm, and it's completely up-ended --engulfed-- by the chaos of a Holiday.
I am hoping he could play the mandolin. Otherwise, well, a pretty good joke on his way out.
Sometimes you laugh at old age. Sometimes old age laughs at you. And then you are dead. Drowned in the sea. Which is better than drowning in the bathtub or in a pool of your own filth, I guess. RIP.
Ah, the Azores. Graveyard of empires and lusty old men.
I'm sure there are worse ways to go...I've seen them.
I'd like to go like that. . . .
I'm also starting to be of the opinion that we go through an inflection point somewhere along the line of life wherein we move from dreading birthdays -- "Oh, man, another year older" -- and start looking forward to them, if only to say we've made it another year.
I have resolved, recognizing my mortality, to give up the mandolin. Life is too short.
what a great guy. How many people could do that in 2019 at the age of 72, or even 22? Frankly I'd take scotch over champagne, but he was French.
I always celebrate being vertical on my birthday. But that is a quick thank you to God, and then I move on with my life.
I'm 78. I have no interest in proving that I can "still do" feats that I did when I was young. When I was 17 I hiked across the Grand Canyon. It was a great experience. I wouldn't do it again now, even if I thought I could. Why should I? I'm happy that (so far) my mind and eyesight are adequate.
But I can understand this guy's motivation. He'll appear at the Pearly Gates, wet but proud. (St. Peter won't care, one way or the other.)
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