Watchmaker for Seventy-Two Years
By ZELMA LARGE HOUSER
His attitude toward his years is unlike that of some of the men and the women who are getting on. We have all cringed and shuddered when some of our dear ones have made remarks like this: "1 am living beyond my time. I'll soon be dead and out of the way." How refreshing it is to hear G. Anderson, as they all call him in his home town, hopefully talking about the affairs of current politics and evincing such an interest that we feel that he expects to outlive most of his hearers. He may do so.
How did this old gentleman manage to live so long and happily when he continually spent long hours at the repairing bench? Bodies give out after years of toil and strain. To begin with, he inherited a good constitution, and he did not endanger it by silly excesses or by foolish fears and worries. Some daily habits and wholesome thinking lend a help, and he took advantage of this aid. He has always had an idea that rich food cause sickness, and he is careful not to eat butter with meat, always taking care that he stops eating before he is entirely satisfied. This is not so easy. It is wonderful, though, not to have indigestion.
One of the trade magazines was recently trying to find the oldest active watchmaker in the country. There were several who were in their seventies and eighties, but G. Anderson seems to be the only one up to the present time of the contest who is still keeping the pace. Does he like this contest? He does not. He abhors the competition, and his son carries it on secretly, because he is himself very proud of his sire and of the long service to the public. When the father fell at his home a few days ago, and had to spend a few days at home because of a minor injury, he hastened to caution his son and his daughter-inlaw: "Now be sure not to let that paper get hold of this."