A Cranky Old Man

Marcus Ampe:

In this world many feel lonely. Lots of them have gotten old. Lots of them are abounded, but aside in a nursing home or in a dementia detention ward.

How de we want to look at others? How shall others look at us now and in a few years time?

We ourselves should always looking at others as children of God. Those who are older than ourselves we should respect as those who went before us to pave the way in front of us to make sure that we could have a living too. Them we do owe respect. That is what many forget these days.

Do we want to see ourselves in the older person? And more important do we want to see the person behind the old wreck we see in front of us?

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To remember

sons… grow and go

babies come again to play around

Dark days are upon us

close ones die

looking to the future we may shudder with dread

nature can be cruel

It’s jest to make old age…

Look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles…

Grace and vigor, depart.

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  • Cranky Old Man (shedmontfort.wordpress.com)
    When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, 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.
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    The best and most beautiful things of this world can’t be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart!
  • Cranky Old Man (globalunison.wordpress.com)

    This old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the globe awaking masses to accept the reality that“nobody can run away from the dreadful old age however ravishing their young age may be”.

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    as we get older, we can just become more cynical, worn out, bitter, resentful, and fearful. Cranky old women and men are everywhere. The only way to avoid the problem of “shrinking” into ourselves as we age, is to start expanding outside of ourselves now.
  • A Cranky Old Man (smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com)
    I would be in the kitchen diner where I had my office and would listen to the discussions going on – slipping in from time to time to replenish the preferred alcoholic beverages. Gin, double with a lick of tonic and slice of lemon – double whisky and water, large schooner of sherry and a large glass of red wine. The ladies were all in late 80′s early 90′s but you could have been out with any group of girls from 18- 100. I had to intervene occasionally when discussions would become a little heated about the attributes of some poor unsuspecting acquaintance, and then escort them across the road and round the corner to the local pub that served a very good senior’s lunch on a Friday.
    Cranky at times yes, but I have more than enough ammunition for a tell all book and enough for a follow up. How they did not get barred from the pub is down to a 70 something Italian waiter who lovingly steered them through their liver and bacon with half portion of dessert. Thank you for the reminder that we should remember that older people have had and continue to have a life.
  • Cranky Old Farts (and Some Young Ones Too) (grumpyelder.com)
    I used to think I was a cranky old fart. I took some pride in that to be frank but I’ll tell you what – compared to David Suzuki – I’m Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music. Not only is he significantly older than I am but he is the poster boy for being cranky or at least – being a crank. There are days, quite frankly, when I wonder if his relationship [...]

Originally posted on Good Time Stories:

born 2 B mildWhen an old man died in a nursing home, nurses found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed them, it was spread throughout the nursing home and afar. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in magazines for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his poem. And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.

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Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses?

What do you see?

What are you thinking…

When you are looking at me?

A cranky 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…

View original 383 more words

3 Comments

Filed under Being and Feeling, Lifestyle, Poetry - Poems, Re-Blogs and Great Blogs, Social affairs

3 responses to “A Cranky Old Man

  1. When Sam Han asked me if I could also read the reply of the nurses I did not get to see it and had to reply:

    I only got to know that its quality and content of the writings of that man so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital, who I can imagine could have remembered those moments when they looked with different eyes at him who wrote:

    What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
    What are you thinking .. . when you’re looking at me?
    A cranky 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?

    Like

    • Sam Han replied:

      Lee Hamilton, rehab worker at South Downs Health, wrote: “This poem is in fact an urban myth, and was in fact written by a 1960’s poet called Phyllis McCormack, after her experiences as a ward nurse”.

      The poem has had many titles since its “discovery” and has had a reply written by a ward nurse, Lee says.

      “One must say though that the truth of the poem’s beginnings does not and should not diminish from its content and meaning and we still should take note of the message.”

      And a trawl through the world wide web reveals just how many people would agree with Lee’s final comment.

      Claire Anderson, a staff nurse on Blanche Ward at the children’s hospital, also wanted to find out whether there had been a reply to The Crabbit Old Woman poem.

      Her researches came up with name of Liz Hogben, although Bruni Abbott of Prince Henry’s Hospital, Melbourne is also cited sometimes as the author, she says.

      Here’s the reply from the nurses:

      “What do we see, you ask, what do we see?
      Yes, we are thinking when looking at thee!
      We may seem to be hard when we hurry and fuss,
      But there’s many of you, and too few of us.
      We would like far more time to sit by you and talk,
      To bath you and feed you and help you to walk.
      To hear of your lives and the things you have done;
      Your childhood, your husband, your daughter, your son.
      But time is against us, there’s too much to do –
      Patients too many, and nurses too few.
      We grieve when we see you so sad and alone,
      With nobody near you, no friends of your own.
      We feel all your pain, and know of your fear
      That nobody cares now your end is so near.
      But nurses are people with feelings as well,
      And when we’re together you’ll often hear tell
      Of the dearest old Gran in the very end bed,

      And the lovely old Dad, and the things that he said,
      We speak with compassion and love, and feel sad
      When we think of your lives
      and the joy that you’ve had,
      When the time has arrived for you to depart,
      You leave us behind with an ache in our heart.
      When you sleep the long sleep, no more worry or care,
      There are other old people, and we must be there.
      So please understand if we hurry and fuss –
      There are many of you,
      And so few of us.”

      Both sides have their stories and makes a heart touching read. :)

      Like

  2. Pingback: Subcutaneous power for humanity 4 Not crossing borders of friendship | Marcus' s Space

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