Wednesday, February 26, 2014
the need to share. I've been thinking a lot about
my own age recently, and having a hard time
believing I just turned 68. In my mind, I'm not
anywhere close, but my body is saying otherwise.
This poem reminded me so much of my
grandfather who passed years ago from
Alzheimers...alone, in a rest home.
His family can only pray now that he realized in
his diminished capacity how much we truly
loved him, that we visited and mourned his
The Crabby Old Man
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Tampa,
Florida, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They
found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that
copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Missouri. The old man's sole bequest to
posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine
of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has
also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
What do you see nurses? ....What do you see?
What are you thinking......when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man,.....not very wise,
Uncertain of habit ........with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food.......and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice ....."I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice ....the things that you do.
And forever is losing .............. A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not...........lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding ..... The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?.......Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse......you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am .......... As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding,.......as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten.......with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters ........who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen ....with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now..........a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty ........my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows........that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now .......... I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide ....And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty .......... My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other ....... With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons ...have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me.......to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, ......... Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children ....... My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me ...... My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ............I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing......young of their own.
And I think of the years...... And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old man........and nature is cruel.
'Tis jest to make old age ........look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles..........grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone........where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass ..... A young guy still dwells,
And now and again .......my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys.............. I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living.............life over again.
I think of the years ..all too few......gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact........that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .........open and see..
Not a crabby old man.....Look closer....see........ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush
aside without looking at the young soul within.....we will all, one day,
be there, too!
The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched.
They must be felt by the heart.
I'm trying hard to see the person behind the mask that nature slapped on me. *smile*
Monday, February 24, 2014
Author Unknown, Source Unknown - posted by Ginger
This is something I found on the internet that I found extremely touching, and oh so true. You have heard of the cup that overflowed. This is a story of a bucket that is like the cup, only larger, it is an invisible bucket. Everyone has one. It determines how we feel about ourselves, about others, and how we get along with people. Have you ever experienced a series of very favorable things which made you want to be good to people for a week? At that time, your bucket was full.
A bucket can be filled by a lot of things that happen. When a person speaks to you, recognizing you as a human being, your bucket is filled a little. Even more if he calls you by name, especially if it is the name you like to be called. If he compliments you on your dress or on a job well done, the level in your bucket goes up still higher. There must be a million ways to raise the level in another's bucket. Writing a friendly letter, remembering something that is special to him, knowing the names of his children, expressing sympathy for his loss, giving him a hand when his work is heavy, taking time for conversation, or, perhaps more important, listing to him. When one's bucket is full of this emotional support, one can express warmth and friendliness to people. But, remember, this is a theory about a bucket and a dipper.
Other people have dippers and they can get their dippers in your bucket. This, too, can be done in a million ways. Lets say I am at a dinner and inadvertently upset a glass of thick, sticky chocolate milk that spills over the table cloth, on a lady's skirt, down onto the carpet. I am embarrassed. "Bright Eyes" across the table says, "You upset that glass of chocolate milk." I made a mistake, I know I did, and then he told me about it! He got his dipper in my bucket!
Think of the times a person makes a mistake, feels terrible about it, only to have someone tell him about the known mistake ("Red pencil" mentality!) Buckets are filled and buckets are emptied ? emptied many times because people don't really think about what are doing. When a person's bucket is emptied, he is very different than when it is full. You say to a person whose bucket is empty, "That is a pretty tie you have," and he may reply in a very irritated, defensive manner. Although there is a limit to such an analogy, there are people who seem to have holes in their buckets.
When a person has a hole in his bucket, he irritates lots of people by trying to get his dipper in their buckets. This is when he really needs somebody to pour it in his bucket because he keeps losing. The story of our lives is the interplay of the bucket and the dipper. Everyone has both. The unyielding secret of the bucket and the dipper is that when you fill another's bucket it does not take anything out of your own bucket. The level in our own bucket gets higher when we fill another's, and, on the other hand, when we dip into another's bucket we do not fill our own ... we lose a little. For a variety of reasons, people hesitate filling the bucket of another and consequently do not experience the fun, joy, happiness, fulfillment, and satisfaction connected with making another person happy. Some reasons for this hesitancy are that people think it sounds "fakey," or the other person will be suspicious of the motive, or it is "brown-nosing." Therefore, let us put aside our dipper and resolve to touch someone's life in order to fill their bucket.
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