In disposing of things accumulated over the years I came upon a booklet -- only 2 by 4 inches and 59 pages -- I was unaware of ever possessing, titled How to Live One Hundred Years. It is one of a series, called “Little Blue Book,” which were reprints of old classics. While the “Blue Book” series dates back only a half century or so, this particular classic was first published in Italian in 1612 and titled A treatise on the Sober Life.

It was written by one Lewis Cornaro, of noble Italian descent, who lost his health in his youth and recovered it in mid-life with such success that he lived over a hundred years, dying free of disease and pain. In his advanced years he wrote several short essays on what he came to call “the regular life” -- by which he meant “to live sparingly, and according to the dictates of reason.” He died in 1566. His essays were published in pamphlet form almost a half century later.

I was curious as to what this Italian nobleman had to say on this subject back in the 16th century that would cause his work to be translated into English and published almost three centuries later. I supposed there would be impressive rules, perhaps a secret or two, on how to live a century still in good shape. But no, there is no such list, but rather a call for sobriety, self-control, and reason. One lives to be a hundred by following the dictates of common sense. Like the ancient Greeks, though he does not reference them, Cornaro believed that if there is a secret to good health and long life it is “the golden mean,” -- as Aristotle put it -- the balance between extremes. Temperance is his favorite term, and this refers to life as a whole -- a regular, orderly life free of uncontrolled passion and inordinate desire.

The book is largely a diatribe against intemperance, the enemy of the people. He reminds his fellow Italians that intemperance is a murderer that has taken far more lives than plagues, fires, and wars combined. It leaves poverty, disease, and painful death in its wake, and it is all so unnecessary. The body forgives if only one will live according to the good sense God has given him.

He does name two rules that he sees as controlling all of life’s decisions -- and are productive of a hundred years of good health. These are quality and quantity. Whatever we do -- eat, drink, work, leisure -- is to be qualitative, excellent in nature. Much of modern TV, popular movies and reading, and junk food would hardly meet his “quality” test. The quantity rule means that however excellent the choice may be, it is to be used or consumed in moderation.

There is a fallacy in all this, as there is in the Wisdom literature of the Old Testament -- as in Proverbs ad some of the Psalms. It is not always the case that if one is righteous and follows the rules for health and wealth that he will live gloriously into old age. We know of those -- and they are not a few -- who are cut down in the bloom of youth, or suffer poverty and disease, however well-ordered their lives. The book of Job as written to challenge the Wisdom doctrine that “Whatever the righteous does shall prosper.”

. And yet we all concede that if we “play by the rules” life goes better for us, more often than not. And Cornado makes his case that a life of temperance is better than one of intemperance. But we are to avoid the conclusion that if we live a long, prosperous life that we are better or more righteous than those who do not.

And what is such a big deal about living to be a hundred?

OK, your ticket is punched for a hundred years. So what? In terms of eternity a century is nothing. In terms of life on earth it is only two decades longer than the current 79.9 years of average life expectancy. If you lived in a retirement facility as I do, you might question whether the 80s and 90s are worth it. It is arguable that it is better to go sooner rather than later.

With all respect to Cornado and and those who think like him, I venture that this passion for longevity misses the point of what life is about. There is no particular virtue in living a decade or two longer than the average person. There are no halos for centenarians. A hundred years, or even twice that long, does little to effect life’s brevity. We all “pass away with a sigh,” however you count the years.

In view of “an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled that does not fade away reserved in heaven for you (1 Peter 1:4) sooner may be even better than later.

Notes

After working on our home all summer, with excellent professional help, it will go on the market next weekend. Our friends say it is attractively redone and our realtor says it has excellent curb appeal. Pictures will be taken that will go on the Internet. We're asking $194,600. I will be busy in the garage -- it too cleaned and painted, including the floor -- several hours a day, for weeks to come, sorting material that will eventually become the "Leroy Garrett papers" at ACU. I have upwards of a dozen large boxes (files) of letters and memorabilia, covering five decades as an editor among Churches of Christ/Christian Churches. Their value lies especially in that they come from the rank and file, those out in the churches that effected change over a half century . It will all become part of the history of a church in transition. All along I was aware of what was happening, so I saved stuff for the historians of tomorrow. Some of the letters, written decades ago by sisters and brothers -- some of whom have passed on --struggling to be free in Christ, would still wrench your heart. Some in the library at ACU have offered to come and help -- or I can just ship it all to Abilene and they will do it! Should the house sell quickly I might have to do that. But it is nostalgic for me to relive those stormy, controversial times. A common reaction all through the years was that the writer didn't realize that there was anyone else who believed what he or she did. Also common: "Had it not been for you and Carl Ketcherside . . ." I admit to sometimes tearing up. What a pilgrimage it has been, a pilgrimage of freedom, and what a blessing! The trail is near its end. I see but a tip of the sunset in the distance.

Tonight -- Saturday, August 25 -- I suggested to Ouida that we dine here at The Vintage, which only a few do, lunch being the main meal, but the few are treated royally, table service. She was reluctant, no appetite for chicken stir-fry, which was the entree. She wanted me to go alone. She at last agreed, and once at the table her appetite made some comeback. She eats more when I take her out than when I bring food in. Her condition remains about the same, no better, no worse. Whether "for better or for worse" she remains my sweetheart wife. Once when dining here a dear woman came to our table, a stranger to us, and said forlornly, "You still have each other," and went her way, saying nothing more. We are usually the only couple in the dining room. I thought of a line from Shakespeare, always insightful of human nature, "There is no pain like looking at happiness through another person's eyes."