Go Back to the Bears

People should consider going back to the forgotten ways. 
Living until old age? All my grandfather used to ever warn me about was to never get old. 
It never used to be that way. Used to be, you'd be eaten by a bear. 
Like that series of shots in Forrest Gump, where Lieutenant Dan's ancestors each die in every American war.
Except a long line of distant prehistoric relatives being eaten by a long line of Arctic woolly bears.
Maybe that's where the trouble began. One generation that grew up, healthy enough and prosperous enough to not need to risk fighting the bears as much.
Then, suddenly, death by bear isn't all that common. A thing which could be avoided. To what end? Disease? Tooth rot? Gangrene?
The bears were a blessing. Look at those canines. Perfectly shaped to puncture dense primate skull.
We didn't know how good we had it, being eaten by bears. Maybe not in our prime, but only just far enough in decline that we couldn't escape the bears' meathook claws in time.
And maybe while the bear was preoccupied with whichever one of us whose turn it was to go to the great big bear stomach in the sky...
... The others could drive a spear right into it's eye. It was our one final contribution to the team before a quick death.
But no, we traded it all. We had to have can openers. 
And fidget spinners.
And Bluetooth. 
And doorbell cameras.
And then what? We spend twenty years as vestigial citizens. Walking corpses. No light on upstairs. You won't even be able to remember anyone's name, not even your doctor's!
But will that stop them from keeping you going one more year? 
Will your embarrassing incontinence finally make them consider your dignity and just throw you into the bear enclosure at the zoo? 
No, they'll inject you with something that glows green and leaves a copper taste in your mouth and check in on you again in two weeks.
The elderly don't need our sympathy. Look where it's gotten them! 
What they need is a big, hungry bear.
And I'll bet you that, at least for a moment, that final moment, there will be a glint in their eye again.
They'll remember who they were, and what a good hot stew tasted like. 
They'll remember the great lays they'd had, and the parties they'd been to that really mattered. 
They'll be alive again.
But just for a moment. 
And then, think of how happy the bear will be.

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