What a dismal start.
My subject was late, understandably so. The pancake house wasn’t nearby, and nonagenarians aren’t exactly sprightly.
But then my first question? Ignored. A follow-up was coming, but the sudden heavy breathing caught me off-guard. So did the slack jaw and trickle of saliva.
Odd to think someone could be sound sleep with wide open eyes.
I looked over to his caregiver.
“Can we wake him?”
“I wouldn’t,” she shrugged, half-eaten bran muffin in hand.
I shut off my recorder. The interview now over. Wisdom from the world’s oldest college graduate would have to wait another day.
The Weekday One Hundred 