Why the Years Fly Swiftly for the Aged

1914

Every person of fifty or more is familiar with the fact that as one grows old time apparently passes much more rapidly. "It seems but yesterday" is a phrase often used with reference to duration sometimes of years, and the phrase expresses an actual fact. Of course time does not vary its course. The acceleration is only apparent. Recent psychological researches ascribe it almost entirely to a gradual failure in memory.

In earlier life each day stands out clearly by reason of association with the events that occur therein. These are retained in the memory and help to preserve the sequence of the passing years. But as soon as the mysterious biochemical changes which herald the approach of old age occur the memory begins to fail. Much that happens in intervals between important events is forgotten, with the result that those intervals seem shorter than they really are.

The time between falling into a dreamless slumber and awakening therefrom may be a matter of hours, but because the mind is blank during sleep it seems practically nothing. Dreaming lengthens the apparent interval because it gives the memory some data by which to reckon time. Therefore the more one dreams the longer does his period of sleep appear to him — that is to say, one's apprehension of time is largely dependent upon his memory. The more faulty the latter the more erroneous the former. The years fly by so swiftly for the aged because the aged forget so much of what occurs in them.

The Body Perfectly Obeys Your Rapid Brain

1922

YOUR POWERS

Lulu M. Cargill, clerk in the New York post office, takes from Nina E. Holmes of Detroit the title of "champion letter sorter of the world."

Miss Holmes attracted attention by sorting 20,610 letters in eight hours, or nearly 43 a minute. Miss Cargill sorts 30,215 letters in eight hours, which is better than one a second. And she sorted the first 23,500 letters without pause. Then she stopped for a cup of tea. Sorting a letter means picking it up, reading the address, recalling the postal route to reach the address, then tossing the letter into the proper bag.

Miss Cargill is 26 years old. She has been a postal clerk only three years.

Miss Cargill, you reflect, must have wonderful co-ordination of body and mind. A brain that works with lightning swiftness has automatically perfect teamwork with a body that perfectly obeys her rapid brain.

The body is a collection of machines, each trying to work cooperatively for the good of all. It is a more perfect system of government than man has been able to devise.

Miss Cargill, judging from her work, has what scientists would call "an extraordinary well-balanced system of endocrine glands."

In the so-called "efficient" person, the body glands speed up when needed and slow down when the energy of the body is required by the other glands.

In a boy who is growing too rapidly, as a result of abnormal activity by the pituitary gland in the brain, the other glands slow down and surrender part of their share of the body's energy. With most of his energy devoted to growing, the lad is apt to be otherwise languid.

Or, for example, you suddenly are in danger, which requires a quick use of reserve energy. The word is telegraphed through the blood. The message is sent out by the adrenal glands, which stand guard as a mobilizer of reserve energy. Other glands slow down, as if saying, "If the adrenals fail in this emergency, we all perish."

The heart responds to the adrenals and rushes blood to the arms or other parts of the body that have to meet the danger. This rush of blood is why "the face goes white" in a time of peril.

The crisis met and conquered, the blood rushes back to normal distribution through the body. The other glands "come to life." The sudden change makes the person, calm in or, half-collapse "after it's all over."

—The Bridgeport Telegram, Bridgeport, Connecticut, Sept. 26, 1922, p. 3.