Pine Nuts: Gramps and the 4-year-old

From this beautiful blue ball I shall depart in grand old age with a deep appreciation in my breast of having lived in the luckiest time to ever have been welcomed aboard. When I think upon it, we saw relative peace between the end of WWII and 2025, a relative decline in poverty, and relatively good worldwide health. 

Albeit, I shall exit with some regret that we are still a leetle too addicted to violence, and not concerned enough yet about climate, either one of which could bring a premature end to a long run.

So here’s one idea about how our iron men and women, with wind at their backs and a following sea, might save themselves. First, they must collectively shout as one man to divest the world of weapons mutually assured destruction. Nuclear weapons must be relegated to the dust heap of history before they relegate us to the dust heap of history. 

Climate? I see a man sitting in a beach chair, up to his chest in water, smoking a cigar, while the water rises around him. We have no permanent enemies in 2025, but those who are hindering attempts to control global warming are not doing us any favors.

I can imagine a conversation I might have with a four-year-old grandson while watching the news together on television.

“Gramps, why are all the houses broken?”

“They’re having a war over there, son.”

“Are we going to have a war here?”

“Not today, but man is unpredictable when it comes to politics.”

“What is politics?”

“Politics is the social science of getting your way.”

“Why don’t they do politics instead of breaking houses?”

“Good question, son, a question we have been asking since Cane killed his brother.”

“Why did he kill his brother?”

“Unfortunately, killing is the chosen problem solver of the muddled mind.” 

“Tom’s mom killed her own self.”

“You’re right, Tom’s mom ended her suffering with authority and dignity, as she was diagnosed to die before long, sad as it was.”

“Why?”

“She had terminal cancer, and she chose to make that journey less painful.”

“Are we going to die of cancer?”

“Not if we can help it, though one never knows.”

“We could die from a buffalo stampede.”

“Not anymore, but a two hundred years ago we sure could have…”

“Then will we go to heaven?”

“Well, maybe, if we made the world a better place, maybe so.”

“Is there Nerdy Bubblegum in heaven?”

  “You bet there is…”

“I want to go to heaven, where they don’t break houses, and you can chew Nerdy Bubblegum all day…”

“You’re on the right track, son, I think you’ll make it.”

“Will there be girls in heaven?”

“I reckon they will outnumber the boys, but it’s Super Bowl time right now, son, so why don’t you run along and ask your mother a few questions.”

Yes, our four-year-olds will soon enough be running the big show in the little time we might have left before it’s too late, and game over. We wish you luck, kids, God’s speed, and enduring success.

— Want to hear McAvoy tell it? Go here for the spoken word version of this column. For more than 35 years, in over 4,000 performances, columnist and Chautauquan McAvoy Layne has been dedicated to preserving the wit and wisdom of “The Wild Humorist of the Pacific Slope,” Mark Twain. As Layne puts it: “It’s like being a Monday through Friday preacher, whose sermon, though not reverently pious, is fervently American.”

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