The Autobiography of Methuselah

A surprisingly candid voice greets listeners from a time before ink and paper existed. The narrator, a patriarch nearing his tenth century of life, explains that he etches his memories onto stone slabs with hammer and chisel—a labor‑intensive task made all the more arduous by creaking joints and gouty fingers. His purpose is simple: to give his great‑grandchildren a glimpse of the world he has witnessed, and perhaps to fill the idle hours of his twilight years.

In the opening act he recounts youthful pursuits that sound almost mythic—chasing extinct birds, tracking dinosaurs, and mastering primitive games of marbles and peg. He also shares moments of everyday family life, from lively Virginia Reel dances to quiet afternoons with his grandson’s sons. The tone is wry and reflective, offering a blend of ancient legend and ordinary humor that invites listeners to imagine a life stretched across epochs, told with the stubborn charm of a man who refuses to let time silence his story.