A piece of Internet fiction still carries an important message
One of the features of the Internet is that stories can circulate widely across the globe. This poem is one such example. The ‘story’ behind the poem would appear to be fiction but so what! It serves as a good reminder of something that affects us all (except those tragically cut off before they grow old!).
But before getting the poem, the reason that it was decided to publish the Post is that old age, whatever that really means, is a much bigger issue for societies than many care to acknowledge. Because, I guess, the ‘many’ tend not to be old, or let us say, the right side of 60.
And look how even the terminology is so biased towards youth. Why should it be the ‘right’ side of 60? What is ‘wrong’ with being older than 60, or 70 or whatever age?
Of course, in so many ways nature’s purpose is for us to breed the next generation to continue our gene pool and once we have achieved that then our ‘natural’ use is limited. But that is to ignore the value of wisdom, the huge advantage the next generation has in being able to tap into the experience and knowledge of the ‘ancients’.
Here’s an interesting piece from Aging and the Elderly by Hampton Roy MD and Charles Russell PhD
Wisdom has been attributed to older people in nearly all world societies from ancient times, but modern research on the psychology of aging has paid little attention to this quality of the late years
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A number of researchers, however, have assessed the psychology of aging quite differently. Instead of measuring decline, their aim has been to measure the unique and special characteristics of mind possessed by older people.………………….
These researchers might typically define wisdom as Kenyon did when he described it as “the ability to exercise good judgement about important but uncertain matters of life” -where “uncertain matters” refers to problems that may not have come up before, or to which there are competing or conflicting solutions, and so forth. These researchers describe the old as having “self-creating” powers because they seem to be more independent in their decisions, and less subject to external influences like the fads and trends that sweep over the young.
They propose also that the old are better able to live with contradictions in life and that they quickly see the essentials of situations because of their greater experience. Wisdom, they observe, includes the intent to do good, which in turn depends on holding favorable attitudes toward other people.
Then again, popular culture defines the ancient American Indian warrior as many things but old and decrepit doesn’t figure in that list!
So here’s that poem – may you live to a great age!
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!!
By Paul Handover (aged 65!)
Learning from Dogs 