This is indeed sad news! Granddad was one of my favorite visits at the Shedd Aquarium, and though most people I dragged there initially had no idea what they were seeing, most left with an deeper appreciation of the aquatic dinosaur-cousin.
While Granddad, the Shedd lungfish, lived a fairly cushy life in a clean, well oxygenated tank in the aquarium, in the wild he, she? did they ever figure this out?, would have lived in a stream bed that would be wet in the spring and summer and dry the rest of the time, surviving by burying himself in the mud and using his lungs rather than gills to breathe. Of course, being buried in mud would have made him less likely to be eaten by predators.
For those of you at home writing your own management and career books, there might be a parable or two that could be used in your next tome--the ability to survive while moving very little or using much air is something I've seen many people do in the rough-and-tumble corporate world. It seems to work evidently.
On a more personal note, Granddad made his debut at the 1933 Chicago Century of Progress Exhibition, or World's Fair, on my father's third birthday. According to legend, my mother was there with her mother for the fair, though Mom's only remembrances were fireworks and an Indian's head dress. incidentally, Dad would have been in Kansas City, and they didn't know each other then anyway.
Well Granddad, as my friend Bob would say, "Lung this!" and Godspeed!
