Jonathan swung gently in the hammock, leafing through one of Molly’s antique books. It had an old smell about it and he liked the feel of the paper pages. Almost everything he read these days was on a flat electronic screen but holding the book he felt he was living a part of history. It was a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets and love quotes. Molly was now convinced he had fallen in love with his very beautiful and intelligent girlfriend, Belle.
It was a Saturday morning and they were sitting on the balcony of her small, third floor apartment that overlooked a magnificent park. On the balcony was a tiny but flourishing garden of edible plants with a splash of colorful flowers. One little bush was covered in tiny white flowers and buzzed with bees collecting pollen.
Molly was sewing, making a small alteration to his favorite shirt. She had just turned 105 and had lived through many more years than Jonathan, who was just 23. But, to him, she felt more like an older sister. She had been a friend of Jonathan’s family since before he was born and, after his parents died so suddenly, they had always spent time together. There was a strong bond between the unlikely friends.
“These textiles are terrific. So soft, but this shirt will be good for years,” she said.
He looked at her face while she concentrated on her sewing. It was a face that had seen many smiles, but she had surprisingly few lines, and her skin was bright and full of color.
“What was it like, Molly, when you were young? Tell me more. I love hearing how things have changed.”
He often asked this type of question. He was always researching and studying, but what he liked best was to hear the stories from anyone who had lived in the time before so much had changed.
His parents had been investigative journalists. It must have been in his genes. His mother was the writer, his father the photographer, and together they had exposed some shocking human and animal rights issues. They were courageous and fearless about what they brought to light. But it often took them to dangerous places. When they found out they were expecting Jonathan, they hung up their traveling hats and worked close to home and concentrated on raising the boy. It was a cruel twist of fate when a huge landslide at a nearby beach engulfed them both. The horrible irony was they were researching an article on whether or not the beach was safe when the sands collapsed on top of them.
Jonathan was nearly four at the time and went to live with his grandparents. They loved him dearly, and many of his parents’ friends stepped in to help raise the boy and share with him what they knew. That’s when Molly started seeing more and more of him. He was taken under the wing of many talented and clever people, from many walks of life. It was a rich and varied education, but nothing could fill the place of his parents.
His grandfather taught him how to work with wood, and Jonathan was fascinated by objects with moving parts. In his teens, a musician friend taught him how to play the guitar, but music wasn’t one of Jonathan’s greatest passions. He set about building a robotic guitar player that would play the instrument for him. The final version was a beautifully constructed piece of art made of wood. His grandfather taught him how to select the finest pieces of timber, how to carve and polish it to create a living artwork from the precious material. The mechanical fingers formed the notes and plucked the strings. They moved like the legs of a huge insect, and it was mesmerizing to watch the wooden creature play. It was also the start of a promising career in robotics for the young man. He built a mechanical drum and various wind instruments, but the guitar player was the most beautiful to watch. Jonathan was never much of a talker, but the music helped him to socialize and was a big success with his friends. The family room became a music studio. It accumulated all sorts of instruments and became a favorite place for friends to gather, talk and play together. His grandmother often joined in playing piano, but “in the traditional way,” she always said.
Jonathan had been coached, inspired and encouraged by some exceptional masters who had taught him how to learn and think for himself. He had won a place at Sean’s Academy, considered the most innovative college in the world, and after graduating, was now teaching robotics there. He had an inquiring mind and listened well. “It was in his genes,” his grandmother would always say. She felt deeply for her grandson, growing up without his parents.
He was especially fascinated by Molly’s stories. She was from a different era from many of the other friends who had formed his family. And she shared with him the stories from her travels, which gave him a sense of the world and a taste for adventure.
“What was it like? Well, once upon a time...” Molly laughed, then paused and reflected on a world that she had seen change dramatically. She put down her sewing on the small bamboo table by her side.
“In many ways, life was pretty much the same as now. Human beings have done much the same for millennia. We eat, sleep, chat to friends, watch the sun go up and down, fall in and out of love, have babies, wash the dishes.
“There was so much that was good, in so many ways. But all sorts of things were going wrong with the world. The weather, our animals, our forests, rivers, seas and lands. It seemed like an endless list.
“And things were far from perfect for the human race. Many people seemed to have everything they needed and lived well, but too often it was a stressful life full of drama and panic, disconnected from what was really important. A huge number lived in poverty. Millions didn’t have enough food to eat or clean water to drink. There were people who were homeless, without security or shelter. There was disease, crime and corruption, and horrible wars were still raging. The quality of our food had dropped, and people got sick from preventable diseases like diabetes. And it wasn’t only the poor. It affected everyone.
“Our environment was toxic: the air, the water and the way we lived. The plastics that we used for so many things were poisoning us. It had been marvelous at first, of course. We thought it very convenient and used so much of it to store and serve food. But the news started to spread that our precious plastics were toxic and linked to all sorts of illnesses. It was causing infertility, problems with our immune systems, asthma, diabetes. There was a whole list of horrible illnesses. The toxins were leaking into our water and our food.
“And the pesticides that we’d used for years to produce such quantities of food were turning against us. The chemicals were destroying our bees. We nearly lost them, and many other insects for that matter. Without bees, much of our food wouldn’t be pollinated. And if the bees were suffering, what were the pesticides doing to us?
“There was such resistance to change. Research was gagged, and evidence ignored; so much was controlled by a few. The bees were a close call, Jonathan, but we saved them. It started with a few that spread the word, and it gathered momentum. People started to take action and have their voices heard to make changes. It seems incredible that it was all kept secret, but of course when it all came out a few years ago, the situation had been corrected in any case. And our precious little honey bees were saved.”
As if on cue, a honey bee landed gently on Molly’s hand. She greeted it with a smile.