The Last Man Down

I'm not nearly so blase as to ignore the story of the Chilean miners.  I happened to go to the computer in the middle of the night last night (don't ask) just as the story seemed to be turning happy, and I admit that it has been on my mind ever since.  Delighted that everything seems to be going okay.

I know there are 1,000 meta-stories playing themselves out today, as e.g., the rescued begin to disentangle the competing claims of their wives and girlfriends, and as they fend off the teeming throng of piranha paperazzi, some I hope with checkbooks, just dying to get the word out.

But right now, what I'm thinkin': there will have to be a last man--the last miner, the last guy down the hole. And what will he be thinking, alone in the dark, everybody else having departed? Will he be wondering if they will forget him? Or will he, perhaps, after two months, be at last glad for a moment of solitude, with peace & quiet? He might as well enjoy it, before the storm of girlfriends and paperazzi.

Oh, and I missed this: evidently to ease their ordeal, the Pope sent down rosaries, and Steve Job sent down Ipods. 

Update:   He's out!  And if you believe the hype, he's quite a guy.  But there is a line about how rescuers are still down there, so not quite a movie finish.