6. Music Lessons

By common consent we measure our age by the number of candles on our birthday cake, but that is only guessing. Nobody can tell me that the four years between thirteen and seventeen are of the same length as the four years between sixty-three and sixty-seven, though most of the days in the latter period are much longer than the days spent in the teens.

I have toyed with the idea that time flies faster for the elderly because for ages the hourglass was in common use. The old man’s hourglass had been turned over and over and over so often that the little hole in the middle had been cut larger by the abrasive sand which trickled through it. As many of you as believe this to be nonsense need not bother to tell me: I fully agree with you.

All that I have been trying to say is that time, albeit one of our most precious elements, is unstable in value. A legacy consisting of negotiable bonds, jewels or real estate may be saved or dissipated, but time can be wasted even when one is not using it at all. So far as I know nothing can be done to save it for a rainy day. An ancient sage offered this prayer: “So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.” But he did not explain what kind of wisdom he had in mind.

I think it should be said, in any discussion of this difficult problem, that our life seems to be divided into two periods: the first period distinguished by hopes, anticipations and as much realization of these hopes and anticipations as may be possible; the second period devoted to reflection and review.

Whatever may be the restless anxieties of anticipation and the satisfactions or disappointments of realization, it behooves every man to prepare for his later years of reflection and review; for memories can either bless or burn. Many prudent people carry life insurance or buy annuities to support them physically when they have retired from business. This is, of course, a sensible preparation for the future. But it is equally important to prepare for a comfortable thought-life in the years to come.

Memories of deeds performed in aiding other people to take a fresh grip on their problems, memories of risks taken to save the life of a comrade in battle or the rescue of a drowning friend at the old swimming hole, or the fresh start you gave to some young fellow in your employ who had made a bad mistake, such reflections and reviews are real property in a man’s old age. But memories of friendships neglected or abused, memories of estrangements that were never cleared up, memories of favors you could easily have done but didn’t do for others who counted on you for encouragement or a recommendation or a loan that would have put them on their feet again—all such memories make bad bedfellows.

I admit that this sermon has become tedious. I introduced it here in an effort to show you how long it was from that August afternoon when my Uncle Worth said we were going to Fort Wayne to see The Greatest Show on Earth until the early morning of my thirteenth birthday.

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