The Awful Change

I will miss human history, once I am part of it.

Decades ago I set out to learn all I could about history and anthropology. I was the explorer. Sparkling, vivid against the backdrop of the past. “I, the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time!” as a Tennyson put it.
Like, when we traveled, which we’ve been fortunate enough to do a lot, I realize now I looked at everything, the art, the historical sites, as leading up to— ME.

it was funny to me, it was tragic to me: massacres, migrations, strange fads, the deaths of kings and queens— a pageant I figured I saw more clearly and colorfully than most people, because I read, I researched I wanted all knowledge. Crown my head with flame! It was glorious and I’m happy I inhabited that viewpoint.

But now, I’ll soon be “one with Nineveh and Tyre” myself. All the knowledge I’ve accumulated, any understanding I’ve gained: extinguished. As I saw happen to my parents, to my sister. The great and eternal snuff-out. This realization is the “awful change”.
“The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,/And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave/Await at last the inevitable hour:/ The paths of glory lead but to the grave.” (Grey Elegy in a Country Churchyard)

He left out the most important thing: you don’t have to be well-born, powerful, beautiful or rich to pursue knowledge, to seek understanding! And that has never been truer than in OUR age, where we can all know the first thing about everything with a few taps of our fingertips, thanks to the tiny glowing portals of our phones or IPads.

“The boast of scholarship”, maybe Grey would’ve called it. But he’da still been right: it’s a path which leads but to the grave.