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CRABBY OLD MAN

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Although this does not have much to do with Breast Cancer, I wanted

to share it with you because of the recent thread of postings about

loneliness... somehow I felt it worthwhile to share. Please read!

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. And this little old man, with nothing left to

give to the world, was The author of this " anonymous " poem winging

across the Internet:

Crabby Old Man

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 now 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 them, 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 whom you might

brush aside without looking at the young soul within.....we will all,

one day, be there, too! It'll be sooner than you think. Life is

short!

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Pennilu:

Thanks for sharing that. I have been a volunteer in skilled nursing

facilities and have had this type thing from many people. It always

shocked me how many people are literally forgotten.

Great reminder to us all.

>

> Although this does not have much to do with Breast Cancer, I wanted

> to share it with you because of the recent thread of postings about

> loneliness... somehow I felt it worthwhile to share. Please read!

>

> 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. And this little old man, with nothing left to

> give to the world, was The author of this " anonymous " poem winging

> across the Internet:

>

> Crabby Old Man

>

> 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 now 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 them, 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 whom you

might

> brush aside without looking at the young soul within.....we will

all,

> one day, be there, too! It'll be sooner than you think. Life is

> short!

>

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Hello..

I just want to share that older people actually make my entire day!! I enjoy

them so much when I'm out and about.... I think they are the most wonderful

people out there.. As much as I want to spend time maybe visiting with those who

have no one, I'm fearful of the attachment I'd have when one should pass...I

know I should recognize life not death, and hopefully soon I will be able to

distinguish the two and make a dream come true for me!

Love

Michele

jkoelsch1950 jkoelsch1950@...> wrote:

Pennilu:

Thanks for sharing that. I have been a volunteer in skilled nursing

facilities and have had this type thing from many people. It always

shocked me how many people are literally forgotten.

Great reminder to us all.

>

> Although this does not have much to do with Breast Cancer, I wanted

> to share it with you because of the recent thread of postings about

> loneliness... somehow I felt it worthwhile to share. Please read!

>

> 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. And this little old man, with nothing left to

> give to the world, was The author of this " anonymous " poem winging

> across the Internet:

>

> Crabby Old Man

>

> 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 now 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 them, 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 whom you

might

> brush aside without looking at the young soul within.....we will

all,

> one day, be there, too! It'll be sooner than you think. Life is

> short!

>

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It is my priviledge and pleasure to volunteer two days a week at a

nursing home. I have found the gift I give these people and the gift

they give back, beyound words. They take great pleasure in the back

rubs, I give, and I take great pleasure in the fact they allow me to

give them. This is the very mursing home where I sat at my mother's

side as she passed. She never cared to be touched so I was pleseantly

surprised at the response to the back rubs and interaction in general.

One particularly smowy day I asked why he hadn't shoveled my

drive way so I could get there. His response was, " You know if I

could have I would. " Oh the beautiful smiles when they see me! Yes,

they are going to die. None of us will get out of this life alive.

Several have already. I have gone to one funeral and told the

daughters, one of whom I had worked with, that their mother brought a

great deal of pleasure into my life and I am forever grateful. I had

a good talk with their mother, near the end, and we spoke of her

dieing. I give them the gift of my time and caring and they give me

the gift of loving them for a little while.

Ruth

> >

> > Although this does not have much to do with Breast Cancer, I wanted

> > to share it with you because of the recent thread of postings about

> > loneliness... somehow I felt it worthwhile to share. Please read!

> >

> > 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. And this little old man, with nothing left to

> > give to the world, was The author of this " anonymous " poem winging

> > across the Internet:

> >

> > Crabby Old Man

> >

> > 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 now 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 them, 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 whom you

> might

> > brush aside without looking at the young soul within.....we will

> all,

> > one day, be there, too! It'll be sooner than you think. Life is

> > short!

> >

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

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