The idealist, particularly to-day when there is so great need of him, is not to be scoffed at.It is through him and only through him that the world will see a new and clear vision of what is right.It is he who has the power of going out of himself--that self in which too many are nowadays so deeply imbedded; it is he who, in seeking the ideal, will, through his own clearer perception or that of others, transform the ideal into the real."Where there is no vision, the people perish."It was his remark that he retired because he wanted "to play" that Edward Bok's friends most completely misunderstood."Play" in their minds meant tennis, golf, horseback, polo, travel, etc.--(curious that scarcely one mentioned reading!).It so happens that no one enjoys some of these play-forms more than Bok; but "God forbid," he said, "that Ishould spend the rest of my days in a bunker or in the saddle.In moderation," he added, "yes; most decidedly." But the phrase of "play"meant more to him than all this.Play is diversion: exertion of the mind as well as of the body.There is such a thing as mental play as well as physical play.We ask of play that it shall rest, refresh, exhilarate.
Is there any form of mental activity that secures all these ends so thoroughly and so directly as doing something that a man really likes to do, doing it with all his heart, all the time conscious that he is helping to make the world better for some one else?
A man's "play" can take many forms.If his life has been barren of books or travel, let him read or see the world.But he reaches his high estate by either of these roads only when he reads or travels to enrich himself in order to give out what he gets to enrich the lives of others.He owes it to himself to get his own refreshment, his own pleasure, but he need not make that pure self-indulgence.
Other men, more active in body and mind, feel drawn to the modern arena of the great questions that puzzle.It matters not in which direction a man goes in these matters any more than the length of a step matters so much as does the direction in which the step is taken.He should seek those questions which engross his deepest interest, whether literary, musical, artistic, civic, economic, or what not.
Our cities, towns, communities of all sizes and kinds, urban and rural, cry out for men to solve their problems.There is room and to spare for the man of any bent.The old Romans looked forward, on coming to the age or retirement, which was definitely fixed by rule, to a rural life, when they hied themselves to a little home in the country, had open house for their friends, and "kept bees." While bee-keeping is unquestionably interesting, there are to-day other and more vital occupations awaiting the retired American.
The main thing is to secure that ******* of movement that lets a man go where he will and do what he thinks he can do best, and prove to himself and to others that the acquirement of the dollar is not all there is to life.No man can realize, until on awakening some morning he feels the exhilaration, the sense of ******* that comes from knowing he can choose his own doings and control his own goings.Time is of more value than money, and it is that which the man who retires feels that he possesses.
Hamilton Mabie once said, after his retirement from an active editorial position: "I am so happy that the time has come when I elect what Ishall do," which is true; but then he added: "I have rubbed out the word 'must' from my vocabulary," which was not true.No man ever reaches that point.Duty of some sort confronts a man in business or out of business, and duty spells "must." But there is less "must" in the vocabulary of the retired man; and it is this lessened quantity that gives the tang of joy to the new day.
It is a wonderful inner personal satisfaction to reach the point when a man can say: "I have enough." His soul and character are refreshed by it: he is made over by it.He begins a new life! he gets a sense of a new joy; he feels, for the first time, what a priceless possession is that thing that he never knew before, *******.And if he seeks that ******* at the right time, when he is at the summit of his years and powers and at the most opportune moment in his affairs, he has that supreme satisfaction denied to so many men, the opposite of which comes home with such cruel force to them: that they have overstayed their time: they have worn out their welcome.
There is no satisfaction that so thoroughly satisfies as that of going while the going is good.
Still--
The friends of Edward Bok may be right when they said he made a mistake in his retirement.
However--
As Mr.Dooley says: "It's a good thing, sometimes, to have people size ye up wrong, Hinnessey: it's whin they've got ye'er measure ye're in danger."Edward Bok's friends have failed to get his measure--yet!
They still have to learn what he has learned and is learning every day:
"the joy," as Charles Lamb so aptly put it upon his retirement, "of walking about and around instead of to and fro."The question now naturally arises, having read this record thus far: To what extent, with his unusual opportunities of fifty years, has the Americanization of Edward Bok gone? How far is he, to-day, an American?
These questions, so direct and personal in their nature, are perhaps best answered in a way more direct and personal than the method thus far adopted in this chronicle.We will, therefore, let Edward Bok answer these questions for himself, in closing this record of his Americanization.
