THE SECRET OF LONGEVITY



by Bev Conover

Since the beginning of time man has been studying ways to live longer.  

The cave people did this by simply observing that those who got in the 

path of a Giant Sloth tended not to live as long as those who didn't.  

Thus they extended their overall population life span by practicing 

sloth-avoidance.  There was Ponce de Leon and his frustrated search 

for the fountain of youth.  He missed the fountain, found Florida, 

but didn't live long enough to retire there.  Throughout the centuries 

there have been potions, incantations, myths, old wives tales and 

superstitions about how one might extend their time on earth.  Failing 

this, wrinkle creams, face lifts and hair pieces abound - to fool others 

and perhaps ourselves into thinking we are somehow beating the clock.  

It is true that medical science, particularly in the past 50 years, has 

done much to increase our longevity.  Retirement homes are a relatively 

new phenomenon because in the not too distant past people didn't live 

long enough to retire.  They simply died mid-stream.    


Now that we have a life expectancy in the 70's, are we satisfied?  No, we 

want more.  We are not going to stroll gracefully into the next century, 

we are going to jog there, munching nuts, granola and fi-bars along the way.          

But what is the true secret to a longer life?  Believe it or not, I happened 

across this discovery while driving down the freeway.  Before me was a car 

with a bumper sticker which read "LIVE LONGER - PLAY HANDBALL".  Instantly 

images of 126-year-olds, battling it out on the handball court, popped into 

my mind.  Of course, why hadn't I thought of this before?  It all seemed so 

clear to me now.  I could go back to smoking and drinking, as long as I played 

handball.  And best of all, I could give up that awful bird feed they pass off 

as health food.  The more I thought about it, the more excited I got.  I turned 

off the freeway and headed for the nearest sporting goods store.  Along the way, 

I stopped by 7-Eleven and picked up a pack of cigarettes and a Snickers.  I was 

euphoric.  Now I could start enjoying life again.  


As I envisioned the possibilities I realized my fortune could be made by selling 

handballs.  I would take the profits from the handballs and invest in retirement 

homes with handball courts.  Naturally there would be designer handball gear.  

For charity I would sponsor wheelchair handball tournaments.  


I couldn't wait to get out on the courts.  As I sped through traffic I looked up 

to see flashing red lights behind me.  That was o.k.  Nothing could ruin my day 

now.  As I was waiting for the cop to write out the ticket, I saw an old truck at 

the side of the road, covered with bumper stickers.  There was a man with a mobile

bumper sticker service.  I thought about letting him in on my secret when I read 

the sign on his truck.  It said "We print anything on bumper stickers".  


I signed for the ticket, thanked the officer and turned the car around, hoping I 

wouldn't be too late for my appointment.