In what is being billed as one of the greatest cold cases in world history, scientists believe they know how Lucy died.
Yes, I know. You weren't even aware she was sick.
Of course, you are to be forgiven, because the tragic event happened roughly 3 million years ago in Ethiopia. Or whatever Ethiopia was 3 million years ago, give or take. And it's not the Lucy you're thinking of. As far as we know, the one that comes to most of your minds is both very much fictional and still pulling the football away just before Charlie Brown can kick it.
The Lucy in question is the member of the species Australopithecus afarensis, believed to be the oldest ancestors of, well, us. Her reasonably well-preserved remains (really, she didn't look a year over 2 million, tops) give scientists their best idea of what humans looked like before they evolved, developed much larger brains and started doing really important thinky stuff like sitting in traffic jams staring off into space and mangling Kesha lyrics. Or is it "Ke$sha"?
Lucy's bones were discovered in 1974, and, according to archeologists who worked the site, she was named after the Beatles' song, "Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds," which was played over the expedition camp loudspeakers all evening after the first day's work. Either that or her family named her after an aunt everyone was trying to keep happy.
Since apparently there were no coroner's reports (Or coroners. Or reports. Or paper, or written language. Or those cool manila folders with tabs ... but I digress), no one knew how she died, except that, well, even three-and-a-half-foot tall prehistoric sorta people have got to go some time.
But scientists at the University of Texas, unencumbered as they have been by attending a significant number of winning football games lately, ("Salt, wound. Wound, salt. I know you all will be very happy together") think they've figured out what happened.
Apparently, the earliest known version of our forbearers fell out of a tree.
Yeah, I was looking for something a little bit more dramatic myself.
So, our best-known example of the first-known version of modern man to stand erect and walk across the earth, unlike it's largely forest-dwelling precursors, died when it fell out of a tree. Apparently "irony" was born at roughly the same time humanity was.
Now this surprises me, not because falling out of a tree might stop at least one localized version of evolution in its tracks, but because this misfortune befell (literally) a female. I mean, this just seems like something a guy would do.
And we don't know exactly what she was doing in the tree, but if it were a male, chances are it would have had something to do with stringing Christmas lights. And the last words would have been some pre-Cambrian version of "of course that branch will support my weight. Don't be such a worrier!"
Scientists speculate our Lucy probably climbed the tree to avoid predators. Again with the irony: Climb a tree to avoid being killed by some saber-toothie thing, fall out and, well, you know. Yeah, that worked.
Whatever the reason, the new findings have at least two communities in an uproar. Scientists are celebrating this research, which breathes life into an important aspect of the story of man on the planet. And a team of lawyers is heading for Africa to see about filing a class-action lawsuit on behalf of all of us as Lucy's descendants against the tree for being an attractive nuisance.
Why does all of this matter to me? Well, I am constantly amazed at what scientists can figure out and at the things upon which they are interested in spending other people's money. Though, in this case, at least, they could have done worse.
And I like to think how far we've come from the timid, three-foot thing that dropped from a tree so many centuries ago to what we are today. Present election cycle notwithstanding.
No more for us the ignominious end of falling from cover while quaking in fear at the prospect of a predator. Now we just walk out into traffic while playing Pokemon Go. See how far we've come!
And if that doesn't work for you, remember how I've often said that columns don't grow on trees? Well, in this case, a column fell out of one.
Commentary on 09/02/2016