On the Cultivation of the Senses for the Best Use of Leisure Time

by Walter Sherman Atwood (1887-1974)

Paine in Age of Reason wrote: "To be happy in old age, it is necessary that we accustom ourselves to objects that can accompany the mind all the way through life ..."

One "object" that has given me a measure of serenity is the observation of a change of meaning of words through the years. For example, we would very likely use the word idea instead of the word object which must have been in common usage in colonial times, but sounds quaint or inexact today. I note such changes whenever I find them.

Franklin would agree with Paine that it is better to have many objects. And when you keep several objects in mind over long periods of time, it is most gratifying to see how frequently you find other people pursuing the same objects. For example, (or for three of four examples,) you might be interested to read in the Feb. 1960, Readers Digest on page 21 a comment by Jas. Stevens: "A good listener makes a good talker." (I recently wrote you that a good listener was necessary for a good conversation.) On the same page M. Goudeket wrote: "Silence is a touchstone between couples," thus expressing much the same idea as the first. (In addition, I have been on the lookout for a touchstone, or for someone who has ever used one for several years, with no luck so far.) On page 22, H. Cohn, writing of Paderewski says: "he used his patience" (as I am trying to use leisure time. He was really cultivating his sense of hearing.) On the same page Clifton Fadiman says that children can learn something of philosophy: "His fresh, active mind should be led to wonder about the universe." On my museum trip a year ago, I asked my audience to decide what word to emphasize in the second line of "Twinkle, twinkle, little star." And then I asked them to do a little wondering about various exhibits. For instance: I wonder how Mr. Chubb managed to get the carcass of a famous race horse; how he got the large animal up to his fifth floor laboratory in the museum; how he managed to separate the flesh from the bones; how he disposed of the many pounds of flesh; and how long he kept at work on the project. Of course, knowing Mr. Chubb, I could give them the answers after they had done some wondering. I tried the same approach in talking about the murals in the entrance to the Roosevelt wing. And again, since I knew the artist when he was at work on this project, I could give them more details than any of the present curators at the museum. And how would Mr. Chubb get a good human skeleton to mount with his rearing horse? And again, I wonder why so many teachers retire without imagination or objects for their leisure days!

25 years ago, someone who foresaw that automation was about to increase leisure time, suggested that pupils should be taught how to use it. Of course, no one in the system knew the answers, so nothing came of it. The problem then is: How do we learn how to make use of leisure time? We might start by admitting that all that is taught is not learned. Learning is active as far as the learner is concerned.

At a seminar conducted by Dr. Overstreet, we concluded that for happiest results in retirement it might be necessary to have good health and an ample income. On this solid basis, I think we ought to try to develop our resources by diligently cultivating the senses.

The idea was probably first brought to my attention when my High School Botany teacher, Miss Pinkham, introduced us to the microscope by asking us to copy from the board this sentence: "We must look a long time before we can see." The author must have been a very wise person, and I am glad I learned this lesson early.

Bertrand Russell, at age 87, wrote this definition: "Wisdom is a harmony of knowledge, will, and feeling, and by no means necessarily grows with the growth of knowledge."

To cultivate the sense of sight, one must first have the wish or will for advancement: we must expect to look long before we see (or learn) much: and the more feeling or interest in a subject, the more secure is the knowledge of the subject. A measure of wisdom may eventually result.

Clifford Beers was in a mental hospital, and was making no progress until the idea suddenly came to him that if he ever was to get out, he must make an effort himself to do something about it. Without such an effort of will in the first place, no one can make much progress in any field. And as in habit formation, once having made the start there must be constant effort and concentration to get ahead, or to "see."

The study of chemistry and the natural sciences is of the greatest value in education, since every lesson suggests what to look for. Every experiment has its observations. Every dissection proceeds from the finding of one structure to its connection with the next one. After looking a long time we begin to see things which are not evident at first glance. But most people are too lazy, or too poorly endowed, to wish to look. And when they leave the schoolroom, they never look at a book again, and seldom learn anything new for the rest of their lives. These are the people who do not see the signs at railroad crossings that say "Stop, Look, Listen." So the roads must eliminate crossings, or as at one place on the Cape, the railroad has a sign for the locomotive to stop before crossing the highway!

I have been interested in mottoes and their use in teaching and it is also of interest to observe the various expressions of the same idea. For instance there is a court here called the court of "Oyer and Terminer," which is meant to hear and settle complaints. In various courts a bailiff announces the beginning of the session by saying loudly "Oyez, Oyez," which means keep still or be fined for contempt. So the Code Napoleon is still influencing our courts. But before Napoleon, people in biblical times were observing that "having ears they hear not, having eyes they see not," and there was a somewhat different saying "He that hath ears, let him hear." One sentence is a complaint, and the other is a command, and they must have been used by two different kind of people. Which line would the teacher use?

Did you see in the Sunday Magazine recently the mottoes used by a nun teaching in Wisconsin?

How does knowledge help us in cultivating the senses? Again, as in habit formation, there must be some satisfaction in doing what we set out to do. Two examples may be of interest: As lab assistant my last year in college, Dr. Weysse suddenly lost his voice in the midst of an anatomy lesson, and he signaled me to take over. Again in a botany class, I had brought in a variety of flower not quite like the one he expected. Botany was not his specialty, and when he was half way through telling the class how to analyze the flower using Gray's Botany, he thought he was off the track, and called on me for the botanical name of the specimen. Fortunately my knowledge was equal to both emergencies, and was a source of satisfaction to both of us.

Prof. Berkey of Columbia made the geological survey for the path of the Catskill Aqueduct to N.Y. City, and was the geologist on the Gobi expeditions where Roy Chapman Andrews discovered the dinosaur eggs. In his lecture on the latter subject, he said that the expedition traveled for days across the desert without stopping. He was asked how they knew when to stop to look for fossils, and he said "You just keep going until you see fossil bearing rocks, then you stop and dig fossils." Which means you first acquire some fundamental knowledge of geology. And it added a lot to my pleasure when I was in Mexico, and all of a sudden I saw in the distance some fossil bearing rocks, and stopped and dug out some ancient fossils of horses teeth.

This year near Northfield, I took a couple of pictures of the Connecticut River, and at the same time I saw enough geology to fill a book. Even my little knowledge recognized three types of rock along the roadside where you would expect to find only one. And the location of the river moving south joins another river moving north, and they compromise and go west and finally south again. This would involve a lot of geological history. The river terraces were there before the first Indians, and the towns were settled because the river had already carved out terraces for farms.

What is to be regretted is that so few educated people see these things. Of course I use the wrong word. The French have a word diplome for those who have received a diploma, but this is not a synonym for an educated person. Could it be that the public recognizes the difference and holds in low esteem some classes of people who are supposed to be educated but are merely diplomes?

It is disconcerting to find a retired English teacher whose main reading is the school news in the N.Y. Telegram. But I can enjoy discussing new books with Roger Keith, who is a real bibliophile. Admiral Rickover writes about the "World of the Uneducated," and Bishop Sheen laments over the fact that fifty percent, more or less, of college graduates never read a book from one year to another.

We invited three of my old colleagues from Clinton for dinner and the evening the other night, and if I had not prepared a program I am sure there would have been nothing but shop talk. We were handicapped by never having met any of the wives before, but that merely added to the challenge. I got the impression that they had few interests beyond the daily mechanics of teaching. And my old friend, Harry Cole, after four years of retirement goes to school every day, and sits in the department office all day unless he is enjoying the lunch room. For three years, he took over one class a day to give a regular teacher a little rest. But this seems like a poor way to retire. Should not the educated person try to accomplish something new?

The question brought to mind the old French phrase "Noblesse oblige." The exact meaning of the phrase became one of the "objects" of my interest, but I have not yet located the original source of the expression, which the dictionary defines as "rank imposes obligations: much is expected from one in good position." This is a reminder that we hear too much these days about "rights" and too little about duties and "obligations." And again, when my thinking had hardly made any progress, I came across a wonderful expression of the idea in a book review about a new biography of Queen Mary: "She had an unfaltering conviction that each day's duties, however tedious, must be completed, that an orderly life, prudence, sobriety, reticence, moderation, and other old-fashioned virtues were important. She believed that royal descent implied responsibility, and above all the responsibility of setting an irreproachable example."

So much for noblesse oblige. But why should it be limited to the royal family? Doesn't every intelligent person, parent or teacher have obligations?

Perhaps I am writing out of a sense of duty, and have not used as much sense of humor as I should, and perhaps I have been seeing with the mind's eye, instead of being more specific about cultivating the sense of vision. The only sermon text I remember was about this vision, and it is attributed to the prophet Habbakuk: "For though the vision tarry, wait, it will surely come."

This was an experience in feeling or emotion. A storm gathered as the minister began his talk. It became so dark, you couldn't see the minister. There was no electricity in the little church in Hyannisport. But as the minister reached the climax and repeated the text, the sun burst forth from the inky black cloud, and the church was filled with beautiful sunlight.

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