I heard about the death of a former colleague today. He was getting on toward 100, so a good lifespan. I remember talking to him about is experience during the war. He was in the Polish resistance. He talked about the futile attempts to fight tanks with Molotov cocktails. I remember one story he told me – he was hiding in a house when a tank barrel broke through the wall and fired at him point blank. He said he never knew how he survived.
It got me to thinking about the amazing people I have had the pleasure of working beside. In my first job there was a sprightly old guy that did all the filing. With time he told me his story, and finally wrote a booklet about it. He was shot down in North East France and walked to South West France through occupied territory. That would be a tough job today even with all of our modern paths and hotels. I remember reading extracts from his diary he kept in the prisoner of war camp after he was captured. I always thought the old films were very stilted in their language, but the diary contained the same language “wizard” and stuff like that.
It got me thinking about the sum of a life. I wandered on to thinking about the old desert island scenario, except I put it in m own house. Just picture this – you are on your own in your own house, survival is no problem, you have enough supplies. But picture no interaction with any other human – ever – till the end of your life. What would your life story be? What would be your goal? Or can we only define our lives through relationships?