SOUNDING OFF:

John Wayne. Abraham Lincoln. Jackie Robinson. Golda Meir. Heath Ledger. Georgia O’Keeffe.

The aforementioned are legends who have inspired millions. They also share something with 94% of the people who’ve walked the face of this earth. They’re dead.

Francois Fenelon, a 17th century Christian mystic, wrote: “Every day those who die soon follow those who are already dead. One about to leave on a journey ought not to think himself far from one who went only two days before. Life flows like a flood.”

The psalmist labels life “a vapor.” We residents of the 21st century choose mostly to ignore that fact. We fill our existences with the “ busyness” and “stuff” of life in order to keep from facing its transience and vagaries.

A hundred billion of the 107 billion who have trod planet Earth have died, leaving something in excess of 6 billion alive today. For every one now living, 17 have died. Fenelon’s observation points to the unassailable fact that all 6 billion now living will — over the course of the next hundred years — go the way of their forebears.

The 20th century, which was recently consigned to the sepulcher of history, was interred with the bloodiest shroud ever. During the century, 20 million people died in World War I, and another 70 million died 25 years later in World War II.

Patrick J. Buchanan, in his new book, “Churchill, Hitler, and the Unnecessary War,” identifies the twin 20th century disasters as two phases of “The Great Civil War of the West.”

“These two world wars were fratricidal, self-inflicted wounds of a civilization seemingly hell-bent on suicide,” he wrote.

We cringe at the thought of what the future might bring.

What I’m hinting at in this missive is that none of us gets out of this life alive. We’re swept up in the “flood.”

Recently, I viewed a 1933 George Cukor comedy. One particular actress was, at the time the movie was produced, about my age now. She died just months after the production wrapped up. Quite possibly there is no one alive today who personally knew her. All memories of her, with the exception of fleeting images on celluloid, are gone. It’s as if she never existed.

Yet, as I watched her on film she delivered dialogue on a Hollywood sound stage that was as real as anything I’ve spoken today. The moments that were frozen in time were no different than moments I lived yesterday.

I’m convinced that the past is not extinguished. All 107 billion who’ve lived have lived lives of significance. Today isn’t the only reality. Every word echoes down the corridors of time and is known by the creator. Nothing has been forgotten, though, thankfully, much has been forgiven.

The one who came to this tiny incubator two millennia ago to offer his life for humanity’s sinfulness has not been forgotten. In fact, he continues to rock our world!

Jim Carnett lives in Costa Mesa.