Swing (Feb-Dec 1952)

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NO TIME TO LIVE a fortune to endow your widow for her second husband, after heart disease has taken you off, and you have become the richest man in the cemetery. Life is for work, and not vice versa. Early to bed and early to rise, as Benjamin Franklin said; and they're good for you, my son, because you don't like either one. At any rate I hope, my dear boy, that you'll be a success, whether you enjoy your life or not." Many years ago my first boy started to school, and as I saw him trudging away down the street, turning to wave at us, I thought sadly: "He's stepping into the tread mill, poor boy, and he'll never get out of it until the glass wagon carries him off." THE American habit of joining organizations must bear a major share of the responsibility for our "Uh, Tommy, do you want some cake? Candy? Ice cream? — Martha, he's ready." busyness; our lack of leisure. Organ ization often seems necessary, indeed, I to accomplish certain ends. We seem j to have to have a separate organiza j tion for the protection of share crop i pers, racial minorities, children, wild j life. Redwood trees — about every j thing. But most of our organizations | have no purpose but to "get together" j and waste time. Well, what can we do about it? I Is there any way of simplifying life ^ to a point where we can have a little time? In a profit-motivated society, we can hardly expect a shift from quantity to quality in the flood of goods, newspapers, magazines, music, drama and books. Profit must be served; and there is profit in the shoddy stuff. The best we can do is to pick and choose, on the theory that it takes less time to choose the little really good than try to digest the entire output. I can't brag about my success, but I am making progress. Of course I usually buy little, and that the best I can afford. In the newspapers I have narrowed my interests to the significant national and international news. I have < managed to cut my magazine list somewhat; but I still receive some 20 publications, and a few of them will have to go. Books are one of my hardest problems. I have been buying the books that I should read, then putting them up on the shelves to be read in a future which never came. There on my shelves they stand, glaring at me reproachfully, reminding me that I shall have no leisure until they are read. I often wonder if a fire wouldn't afford me a better conscience and