I’ve spent most of my life in the open air.

From A treasury of American anecdotes; sly, salty, shaggy stories of heroes and hellions, beguilers and buffoons, spellbinders and scapegoats, gagsters and gossips, from the grassroots and sidewalks of America by Benjamin Albert Botkin. 

Every time I get to thinking about longevity ... I am reminded of an old neighbor I have in Kentucky, who is ninety-nine years old and going strong. Some years ago, when he was a young man of only ninety-two, he was vigorous, physically and mentally, worked regularly, and walked straight as an Indian. One day a neighbor asked him, “To what do you attribute your good health and longevity?”

“Well,” my old friend answered, “before my wife and I were married, we entered into an agreement. Any time I railed at her, nagged at her, or picked a fuss with her, she would take her knitting, go out into the kitchen, and knit until it was all over. On the other hand, any time she would pick a fuss with me, I would put on my hat, go outdoors, and stay there until the atmosphere was once again serene.”

“But what’s that got to do with your health and longevity?” the neighbor inquired.

“Why,” said the nonagenarian, “I’ve spent most of my life in the open air.”