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So Marianne and I were in a B&B on Clontarf Road in Dublin some years back, when our landlady asked where we were from.
"Philadelphia," one of us said.
"Oh, the governor of Philadelphia stayed here once!"
"Um... I really don't think so."
"Yes, and she gave me a book as a present -- here it is." Our landlady took a picture book of Pennsylvania from the shelf and showed it to us. It was inscribed to her by Happy Fernandez.
Who was not only a one-time candidate for Mayor of Philadelphia, but a member of Marianne's then-church.
The other day, a friend commented on a historical article I posted on Facebook, that it was weird because she knew the people involved -- they were friends of her parents. Well, these two incidents -- and a hundred more combined -- have convinced me that there are at most 40,000 people in the world. Any more and such coincidences wouldn't be happening all the time.
I don't know who's arranged the fiction that there are billions of people on this planet, or why. I only know that my version makes much more sense.
After all, have you ever met anyone from Ulan Bator?
Above: Our large and sparsely-populated planet.
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1 comment:
A colleague and I went to a client in Edison NJ and while we were waiting for the management team to show up, the QC manager says to me by way of conversation, "So, your name's Flynn? Where do you live?"
"Right here in Edison."
"Ah. My son is marrying a girl named Flynn. But she lives way over in Phillipsburg."
"Ah," says I,"That would be Nancy Jo."
He gets all bug-eyed and says, "You're everywhere!"
Another time, a student in a class in Detroit turned out to be a second cousin on my mother's side.
I think 40,000 is a way over-estimate.
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