APPLYING THE RULE OF REASON
During one of my four-day jumps from coast to coast recently, I made
the acquaintance of a very affable gentleman in his early fifties. He
had the advantage of me in age, having passed through my period some
twenty years back, while my advantage lay before me, yet to be disposed
of. He was a man of brains, his eyes were alert, his years rested
easily upon him. I marveled at his physical activity, also his _mental
pep_. One thing he said to me that will hang in my memory the rest of
my days.
“I am guided by my _hindsight_--you at your age, by your _foresight_,”
said he. Then he went on to explain.
At my age he had ambitions and crowded on the steam. At _forty_ his
success in all ways seemed assured, so he rushed forward with all his
might. At _forty-five_ he experienced a period of physical reaction,
which, in the light of his present knowledge, was a warning, but he did
not heed it. At _forty-seven_ he was a _physical_ and _mental wreck_.
“I had failed to adjust myself to my failing powers,” said he. “I took
on greater responsibilities than ever, bent, as I was, on rounding out
a huge success. I almost wound up in my grave.”
Now here was a chance for a real pointer from a man of intellectual
force, so I urged him to go on through the sequence of events that had
brought him back to such superb health and spirits.
[Illustration: A rattling good story]
“It took me three years to get by that ugly period of mental and
physical depression, the early part of which I spent in floundering
around from one expert to another, traveling here and there and gaining
nothing in the way of respite, to say nothing of cure. Then suddenly,
I stumbled into an acquaintance with a new adviser--_a life insurance
agent_!”
I broke out laughing at this point and he joined good-naturedly.
“I knew you’d be amused,” said he. “Every friend I have jokes on the
subject. Nevertheless,” he continued, “this life insurance agent cured
me and I haven’t taken a spoonful of medicine since I met him. Are you
interested as to details?” he asked, his eyes twinkling, his cheeks
glowing with health. (Courage, friend reader. This isn’t the beginning
of the novel I intend to write.)
“Up to my ears,” I replied. “I am interested in every little thing that
happens.”
“Well, it’s worth your while,” he continued dryly, “and the ‘cure’ may
serve you well some day. I met this man at Long Beach. I was sitting
under a large umbrella-tent watching the bathers and feeling like “_Sam
Hill_,” when a fine, strapping young man came dripping out of the waves
and sauntered up near me. It was a hot day and noting my ample shade
he came over and looked down at me good-naturedly. I would have given
all I possessed for his robust health and grand physique. I motioned to
some unoccupied space under my tent, which he accepted.
“‘Not sick, I hope?’ said he enquiringly.
“‘Oh-no!’ I blurted back at him. ‘I’m feeling like a young kitten.’
Then I glowered at him ferociously. That made him laugh, and he was a
good hand at it. I turned away from him in disgust, and let him do his
worst. Finally he calmed down and quite soberly remarked:
“‘_You’re not sick_--nothing the matter with you! I’ll write a policy
on you in a week’s time if you’ll do as I direct. I am a life insurance
agent and I mean what I say.’
“‘I’ll take you up,’ I bellowed in reply, ‘and I’ll bet you five
hundred you lose!’ I was pretty much exasperated at the fellow.
“‘You’re on,’ said he, ‘but I won’t take your five hundred if I win.
Let’s put it this way--if you are well enough to pass a rigid physical
examination one week from today will you let me write you up for a
fifty-thousand dollar policy?’
“‘I will, young man, and you can start your _shell game_ at your
pleasure. But I won’t stand for any _science work or nonsense_. If you
bore me I shall tell you so and that means all bets are off and you go
your way.’
“‘We’ll begin now,’ said he quietly, but there was a certain air of
confidence in his voice that made me wonder.
“‘First, I’m going to tell you about yourself,’ he went on to say.
‘You’re pretty much like an engineer who went along forty years without
an accident and then his engine broke down and both went to the ditch
in a heap. You’ve been successful in business, anyone would know that
at a glance, but you’ve made a mess of your physical resources.’ I
nodded. He was right thus far.
[Illustration: A one-minute reverie]
“‘You started in early at the game, your affairs grew, your
responsibilities enlarged, and you worked your gray matter overtime
without stopping to oil up your machinery. In other words, you have
never played, you haven’t laughed, you haven’t mingled with people in a
social way. So now you are pretty near ready for the scrap heap. Am I
right?’
“‘Uhuh--go on,’ said I.
“‘You once came pretty near asking a fine woman to marry you, but
something came up and you forgot it.’
“‘Yep--you’re right, Mr. Mind-Reader. Proceed,’ I said, ‘and whatever
you do or say _don’t mind my feelings_.’ He noted the resentment in my
voice I presume, for he waited some time before going on.
“‘The rest is easy--any life insurance agent who knows his business
could take up the story at this point and go ahead with it.’ He
laughed good-naturedly as I shrugged my shoulders.
“‘You’re an agent, go on with the case. What’s the answer? Let’s hear
all of the horrible details.’ I was getting peevish, although the
fellow had my interest aroused.
“‘Very well. Yours is the old, old story. At forty big things loomed
ahead--_your circle enlarged_. You gave yourself up to big plans. They
progressed famously and at _forty-five_ you were a rich and influential
man. But there were a lot of multi-millionaires that had you skinned on
_size of pile_ so you took the plunge and went after them. You never
gave your waning physical powers a thought for the next two years, and
then you went all to pieces--_mentally_.’
“‘Mentally! what do you mean when you say _mentally_? Am I crazy?’ The
thought made me laugh.
“‘Mentally,’ he repeated with a good-natured smile. ‘You didn’t go
crazy--_your brain fagged_. It wore out just like a typewriter ribbon
wears out--_from constant usage_. You’ve been thinking ever since that
your physical department was to blame for your condition. Nothing of
the sort. You are in fine physical trim, or will be when you take your
mind off of your ailments and forget about the old deals. Come on,
let’s take a dip,’ he urged, and the first thing I knew he was dragging
me along into the brine.
“To make a long story short, that fellow _got me to laughing_ and
playing like a boy. We violated every rule of health that had been laid
down by doctors and in five days were playing golf together.”
“So he won his bet after all,” said I enthusiastically, for I had been
pulling for the agent all through the recital.
“You bet he did, and I let him write me up for _a half million_ instead
of the sum he named.”
“Bully for you!” I replied. “And I’m going to remember what you have
told me.”
“That’s right--at _forty_ begin to adjust yourself to the next
period--_forty-five_. Arriving there safely, begin to adjust for
_fifty_. If you are alive then you should go on for years, always
keeping in mind that you must readjust every _fifth_ year after you
cross the forty line.”
There is an old saying that you can’t fool a percentage table, and
that was what the agent went by. So, if our lives are to be made worth
while we must surely observe the simple rules governing health and
longevity. The candle won’t burn at both ends and stand up in the
bargain. At forty I’m going to begin to adjust--_I believe what the
agent said_.
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[Illustration: A studio confab]