Ages of ages

By Phil Lawler ( bio - articles - email ) | May 30, 2025

Harrison Tyler died last Sunday. Since he was 96 years old, and died of natural causes, his death might have not have caused much notice, but for one remarkable fact.

Harrison Tyler was the grandson of John Tyler, who became President of the United States in—wait for it—1841. Thus John Tyler, who was born in the 18th century, had a grandson who survived well into the 21st.

How did this happen? President Tyler, after the death of his first wife, married a younger woman, who bore him several children. One of the children of this second marriage, Lyon Tyler, followed the same pattern, marrying a younger woman after his first wife died. Harrison Tyler was born of this second marriage, when his father was 75 years old.

“Our span is seventy years,” writes the Psalmist; “or eighty for those who are strong.” Thanks for modern agriculture and modern medicine, an eighty-year lifespan is no longer considered remarkable. But very few people reach the 100-year mark, and yet someone living quietly in Virginia last week had a grandfather who occupied the White House even before the first rumblings that led to the Civil War.

By common understanding, a generation is a span of about 25 years: roughly the length of time it takes for a newborn child to produce his own children. By that reckoning, a century covers four generations. The Tyler family history—three generations spanning two centuries—is astonishing.

“May you live to see your children’s children,” reads the marriage blessing. Even today, only the healthiest couples live to see their great-grandchildren. And by the fourth generation, the link is almost always severed. We remember our parents, probably our grandparents, perhaps even our great-grandparents. But rare indeed is the man who remembers his great-great-grandparents.

A century after we die, then, it is fair to assume that no living person will remember us. We will belong to a bygone era, a previous age. Why is the lifespan of Harrison Tyler so amazing? Because this man, who lived to see space travel, had a grandfather who saw the introduction of the steam locomotive. There are only two generations separating them, but several different eras, even different ages.

Traditional Latin prayers end with the phrase secula seculorum. While loosely translated as “forever and ever,” the phrase actually means “ages of ages,” suggesting a length of time beyond our ken, beyond our ability to imagine it. And it is no coincidence, of course, that the Latin words secula seculorum look like the English word “secular.” The concerns of the secular world are the concerns of this age. A few generations will pass—perhaps a century—and those concerns will seem important only to historians. Whereas the concerns of the Church will remain unchanged in secula seculorum.

Thus the long life of Harrison Tyler is a reminder of how short our lives really are, in the light of eternity. “For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night.” [Ps 90: 3-4]