Ice Cream

As my wife and I watched the news the other evening, a 114-year-old woman was featured. Imagine that—114! Born in 1895! Of course, the traditional question to all such wonders of our fast-food world is the secret of her longevity. She answered, “Ice cream.” Ice cream!?! Not being one to doubt evidence from a study lasting 114 years (albeit a rather small control group), I immediately went to the store and bought two cartons of longevity—cherry at my wife’s request and chocolate for me.

It’s the most delicious health-food regimen I’ve been on for years. The fact that after four days in a row of this latest health plan I have a headache, pains in several places, feel awful, have a cold, am stuffed up, and can’t breathe, I’m sure is simply due to the body’s initial adjustments to more nutrition than it’s used to handling at such accelerated rates, in contrast to my previous and evidently deficient diet of grains, fruits, vegetables, and an occasional steak. One of my daughters commented that even if ice cream were not discovered as the latest in longevity juices, she’d rather live 60 years eating ice cream than 90 without. I can understand that. In fact, that was my approach to life … and it works … until you’re 59. But now that it is the carton of youth, all the better.

Nevertheless, on the fifth day of our new regimen, I wasn’t sure that I felt up to another couple of bowls of longevity, so I told my wife: “Maybe if I miss a day, I suppose making it to only 112 will still be okay.”