LETTERS TO A YOUNG MAN

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Jun 27, 1911

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 38, No. 25.

LETTERS TO A YOUNG MAN

BY A YOUNG MAN

IV. Recreation—The Right View-Point—Fresh Air—Diet

MY DEAR ROBERT,—

I am not surprised that you should think my last week's letter just a little narrow. To take the ground that amusement as such has no place in the life of the young man of the highest ideals, seems on the face of it to proceed from narrowness and bigotry; but this is so only because life itself is viewed from a wrong standpoint. The young man of to-day is too intent on "having a good time." He needs to be reminded of the Scripture saying, "It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth." There is too much pleasure seeking, too little earnest putting on of the armor to fight the battles of the Lord. The intense joy which springs from cheerful, efficient buckling down to one's daily tasks, and doing them with an eye to perfection, is the lot of comparatively few.

You say that I omitted to speak of outdoor games, such as tennis, baseball, football, and the like, which in your opinion are not only harmless, but decidedly beneficial, so that they ought to be encouraged as suitable amusements for young men. I willingly grant that wholesome physical exercise can be obtained from the playing of these games; but I fail to see that much is gained from watching other people play them, and yet that is what the vast majority of young men who have left school do with the two last-mentioned games. Moreover the gambling spirit very often creeps in, and helps to give its demoralizing touch to this form of amusement. Even the actual playing of the games is not always conducive to the best results. The spirit of rivalry may easily get the overhand, and the good to be derived from the open-air exercise be largely offset by the excitement of the game. And even if match games are not played to any great extent, it is very possible for the game to become so absorbing as to crowd out more important things.

Let me in a word make my position clear. I am not denying that outdoor games afford exercise which may be of the highest importance in maintaining the body in a fit condition. I willingly acknowledge as much, and grant, too, that it is better for a young man to play games than not to take exercise at all. The muscles need to be used. Good digestion, a good nervous poise, mental quickness, and all-round power to do things, depend very largely on rational muscle culture, especially that which is taken out in the open air. But to yourself and other young men like you who have passed boyhood days, who have only limited leisure, and are accustomed to reach after high ideals in everything, I feel like showing the more excellent way. Games are good, but there is something better than games. You may indulge in them, perhaps, without loss; but if you want something that will be not a loss, but great gain, seek out some widow who may have wood to split, or try to find any other useful outdoor work to do, and put into the doing of it, if possible, the same keen interest that others take in their sports. While the world remains so full of sorrow, and poverty, and disease, while there are so many thousands of labor-worn men and women, who scarcely know what it is to be fully rested, or to have a really full, satisfying meal; in other words, while there is so much highly useful work that needs to be done every day of our lives,—it seems a pity that rational men and women should let their muscular energy go to waste.

You may say, and with some truth, that the various forms of useful work are not as well adapted to build up the muscles, and secure a graceful carriage and all-round physical efficiency, as are the games. This is only partially true, however; and in most cases almost any sort of useful outdoor work will prove highly invigorating if care is taken to keep an erect, vigorous carriage of the body, and to breathe deeply. A cramped position of the chest is not only ungraceful, but necessarily involves poor circulation, consequent imperfect aeration of the blood, and poor work, mental or physical. On the other hand, an erect carriage, with free action of the lungs, has a pronounced beneficent action upon all the bodily organs, and not least upon the brain. If, in addition to maintaining an upright carriage of the body, you will further offset the downward tendencies of sedentary life by a few moments given to chest expansion exercises morning and evening, it will help to keep you in trim for good work. Deep, full breathing lies at the foundation of good health, and should always have first consideration in planning for the efficient physical life.

To be sure, the quality of the air breathed is also a matter of importance. Cultivate the fresh air conscience. Be particular as to the kind of food you give your lungs even if thereby you get the reputation of being something of a crank. Consumption, which causes something like one seventh of the total number of deaths, is a foul air disease. I am a firm believer in open-air sleeping, by means of a sleeping porch, or a tent open at both ends, for the man who is obliged to spend his working hours indoors. House air and office air are always more or less impoverished; but when one gets out in the free, wholesome air of the fields and the woods, it is like being in a new world; there is fresh tone in such air for the overwrought nerves, and for the stomach and liver, and, not least, the lungs. It is a perfect godsend to the sedentary man to be able to spend his nights under the stars.

Open air sleeping is absolutely necessary to comfort in the summer. On hot days the sun beats upon the bedroom all day long, till toward night it is something like an oven and obviously unfit for sleeping purposes. But the air outside is fairly cool. Then why not sleep on the porch? Not till sleeping porches have become as common as bathrooms, can we boast of having applied scientific principles to our household economy.

You ask my opinion in reference to diet. It is an old subject, and of late years has come to be something of a fad with many persons. I have for myself adopted a few common sense rules which I endeavor to carry out with judgment. I reject in the first place those articles of food which science and experience unite in showing to be harmful, whether they seem to be specially injurious to me or not. Under this head I should include all stimulants and narcotics, such as tea, coffee, alcohol, and also those food articles, as flesh meats, that seem in some degree at least to partake of the character of stimulants. From the large variety of foods remaining I reject those which I have found do not agree with my stomach, or for any reason do not suit my needs. In general I prefer the plain things, and only two or three varieties at a meal. "Many dishes," wrote Pliny, "bring many diseases." Pie and cake are not among life's necessaries. It is pitiable how much labor is sometimes spent in making some complicated dish, and then equally pitiable that the stomach must labor so hard to extract the nourishment from that same dish. Learn to chew a piece of dry bread till it tastes delicious, and never sit down to eat a meal without having sufficient hunger to relish such a morsel. The chewing fad, known as Fletcherizing, is without doubt the usefulest fad that has entered the field of scientific feeding for a hundred years. It possesses the rare advantage of being workable everywhere and under all circumstances. It tends to diminish the quantity of food taken into the system, and to improve its quality, and to increase the thoroughness with which it is refined and appropriated to the needs of the system.

The longer I live, the more I am inclined to attach increased importance to the manner and spirit of eating as compared to the selection of the food. Mere vegetarianism, it seems to me, is in itself a small thing. A man can feed grossly without ever tasting of meat. For the sedentary man, a hearty meal of beans is about as likely to interfere with clear thinking as is one made up of beefsteak and plum pudding. To eat to satiety of almost any food is detrimental to fine brain work. There is an attitude toward the food question which is best summed up in the admonition of Paul: "Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God." It is shadowed also in the record of the apostles after the resurrection: They "did eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart."

If we can but carry spirituality to the table with us, and keep it in view as it were all through the meal, then we are likely also to take it away with us, and the result will be that we shall always enjoy that lightness of spirits, that keenness of intellectual faculties, and that vigor of body, which in combination make up the thoroly efficient man.

I believe this is enough on diet. Your letter has raised other questions, which I shall write about after I have somewhat pondered them.

Ever yours, L. P.