Being Old

Here is an anonymous poem by an elderly gentleman who had been in a nursing home his final months.

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 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 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 and 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!

Spending my pennies

I’ve taken and I’ve spent some
And given all I could when I may possibly do so
I’ve seen a little, heard a lot and taken chance to wonder
I guess this is the chapter titled “two”
Am I too young to ponder? some say so-
Chapter one was that hazy memory, slow and easy
The one encompassing years and spans of time
They call it “childhood” and it was bittersweet
Comical, hilarious, but sometimes sharply real
I still miss it when there is fog outside the windowpane of life
The chapter titled “three” is coming next
What will become of me? I must sit and sip at tea
And think about what I wish to write into the leaf which is my life
Keep it even, clean and merry, yes, I guess, that’s right
But how can any life be only this? There is always tenderness
Sometimes hurting or a level sense of duty
I suppose these will be in no hurry to depart from my description
As it’s written.
Surely my best trust is to compose it truthfully
Find an ear turned toward me to listen and also a friend to speak with
Yes, even now I am searching for some reality to that fine word “fellowship”
Then, oh me, it would be inclined to be worthwhile!

HE and SHE

HE and SHE

Love, how could she, possibly, ask for also that?
She did want that too.
“Ungrateful”, HE says, after all I’ve given you
Love is so professionally withheld -
Carrot on a stick.

HE thinks he can trick it into working
Look what you did to me
HE says time after time
Shame on you for all you do
“I am missing you”, he says

But SHE
Isn’t missing him
Or his demands
Rantings and expectations
Which she willingly fulfilled days headlong
Kept the rocking boat topside
Then watched her personhood be quickly swept aside
He had no desire for her.

And now she drifts calmly out of sight through the fog.
Holding out her hand to those who matter most-
Oh panicked situation! SHE is nearly gone!

HE only wanted even then
A form of her
to fit his plans and his commands
Perfect size and picture with a smile
Pack into a box the you that wished to be
Why can’t SHE
Do what I ask and find a way to be satisfied
With this and cling to him and this.HE wonders why it just could not be enough.

സ്പ്രിന്ഗ് Fever

Spring Fever Dreaming
==================

I am daydreaming tonight
Of warmth and peacefulness and sun heat
On my face.
And I am seeking a certain kind of rest
Not attainable tonight
Here or anywhere that I have ever known

What is it in my heart? What did I still require
That will not let me rest on this alone.
Something left to find.

Somewhere left to go.
Something yet to know.

A sense that when found the power of it
It wouldn’t let you down or be denied.

I couldn’t put a finger on it
Couldn’t put a phrasework to it that satisfies.
And here take it easy let my wanting spirit recline

And daydream in the warm overgrown grass
Day upon day upon day will go by like years upon years
Not yet have I found it, I know I will get there-

Discontented spirit will keep searching
Something yet untouched to be made known.
================================

I have noticed

I have noticed:

A tired child will whine and cannot be pleased until he gets a nap.

I always ask “why”. Guess I never grew out of that stage.

News which is bad news can sometimes be a good thing.

Those who matter most are sometimes the ones on your mind not the ones with the same blood you have.

The ones with the same blood are usually the ones on your mind. If not, it is the ones with the same heart.

You can forget your past, your heritage and your childhood, but you cannot make it as though it wasn’t a part of you. It shows up in little ways if you don’t let it show in bigger ways.

My kids sass back to me the same things I sassed back to my parents. Where do you suppose they picked that up??

Having a little less material goods is satisfying when the soul is prospering. Having more material things just equates to junk when your soul is dying.

If you play a piano out of tune every day, it sounds just fine. Pretty soon you sing out of tune.

A lot of things labeled “wrong” have to be addressed within context to get a clearer picture of why it happened.

Traditions can be a good thing. Maybe there is a connotation to religion, to culture, to pride. There is a beauty in doing the same thing your family has been doing for so many generations.

You can say the right prayer at the right time with the right words. So what. You can say “Oh God!” suddenly when your back is against the wall and it is enough said. It gets through.

Adults are often too uptight. We often transfer that stress to our children who then take it out on us.

The people you love sometimes don’t write back to you. You love them anyway.

I had not been home for 570 days but when I did get here, my mind told me exactly which roads to take and my feet knew where I wanted to walk. My bed no longer felt familiar. My old jeans did.

HAVE A GREAT DAY! LOVE, RUTH

About My Kids

I have the best kids ever. Ellie is six years old, and she is very intelligent. Fortunately, that means she can already read well. She can recall some of the other languages she used to hear often. I hope in the future she can work harder at them and learn more. Unfortunately, her intelligence means she can percieve whether or not she can get away with being naughty or not! She knows her mother well.
Joey is four years old, and he is also clever. He aspires to be a hero when he grows up. Currently he wants to be a soldier but his mother hopes he doesn't really get fixated on that. Too scary for me.
Henry is round, lovable and two years old. He is talking some now, though not as much as his older siblings were at two. He loves ice cream and running around in the grass. He hates being indoors and loves to socialize at daycare where he has many friends.
I have three kids, and they are most of what matters in my life.

A fishing story from early this summer

How did you catch that 27 lb carp fish?


Well, I really hadn’t had very good luck that day. I have not been fishing over the winter, since I can’t take the cold. So I wasn’t setting the hooks quite right. Seems like I had 6 or 8 bites that I didn’t set and they got off the line easily.
Grandpa was feeling sorry for me, so when he got a hard pull on his line he insisted I get it in. I said No, Grandpa, its your fish, bring ‘er in! but he insisted. I lost that one too! Guess I horsed ‘im too hard (pulled too hard on the line as I tried to force the fish in). It had to be a good one.
I set my two lines in the water and waited. My luck was lousy as my uncle, buddy and Grandpa were getting sheepheads and bullheads every few minutes or so.
We were getting late, starting to fall dark, and most of us had put our lines up to go back. Then Grandpa struck it lucky. It took him some time but he pulled in a huge carp. Roger put the net under ‘er and would you guess, the blasted net broke clean through! The old men all three looked at me and without being told I knew-I had been elected to run up the embankment, across the railroad and up the roadbank to the truck for the spare net. They all swore I did it in ten seconds flat but it seemed a lot harder than that. The second net held. Grandpa’s fish barely fit in it. Well, with such good luck you just can’t pull up and head out. Ya gotta put one more line in, even if it is only for a little while.
I put my line in. Almost right away I had a pull. I wrestled with it pretty well, Uncle Howie coached me along the whole way. I appreciated it; couldn’t quite remember some things about it anymore and he did a great job of coaching. It was exciting, I think I screamed happily ((like a girl, they said) when I finally secured the 10 pounder.
Of course just to be on the better side of ending the day well, I put the other line in, just for a little bit while the guys talked about the fish we got. Right away, no doubt, I got a tug on it and she ran off with my line. I pulled her up high and the fight began. I had her near the shore several times when she slipped the drag and pulled away again. Several yards out again, don’t horse it too hard… …man she pulls like a steamengine… …gotta be a big one… ..cat or carp??.... it was fun and exciting and everyone was in on the game. She pulled real well, I had to brace the fishing pole against my stomach to keep hold on it. I finally got it up to the edge until I could clearly see it was a huge, fat, carp. It was getting a little tired but the net spooked it. Out she went again. …keep the line tight… …don’t horse on it, she’ll off n’ break it on ya… well a minute or so later finally pulled her in, Roger put the net under her and hefted it out of the water. She didn’t hardly fit into the net. It was swell. Just a perfect end to the day. When we got the fish home (lots of fish, three carp, eight sheep and four bulls) Grandpa suggested I weigh it to see just how big it was. I said I had never been so conceited before. I clearly remember him saying “So? First time for everything…J) Well for the sake of being able to tell Eunice and Gang, I decided to weigh it. Grandma let me walk through the house to the bathroom scale like big smelly fish and fish-smelling grand-daughter’s happen every day. It came in at 27 lbs.
The weather was beautiful. The day was beautiful. The company was excellent, and, after you catch a 27 pound fighter like that, I gotta let you know, life is beautiful.

A Parable To Read

Once upon a time there was a man. He was handsome, and well liked in his community. It happened that this man was lucky and came into some wealth; he purchased on cash a fantastic new red convertible. It was a shiny, sleek, well functioning machine which any man would have wanted, and some men envied him his good fortune.
The red convertible was determined that she should be the best and only car the man would ever want to drive; she shifted like a dream, being new, the engine was a smooth as butter, there was power to spare and the red paint was without fault. She was a great car to drive, in every way. The red convertible vowed to herself that she would always be a wonderful companion to the handsome, well liked man who had bought her. She was proud to belong to someone outstanding.
The man also was proud to have such a spectacular automobile to call his own; he often made comments to others about the grace and speed of his car, about how he loved the color and prestige. Especially when she was new, the man made great fanfare about bragging to all his friends about her.
But as time went on, the true character of the man began to show.
One day, as the man wished to drive his car, he noticed that she shifted a little awkwardly. Why would that be? The man wondered to himself. I need my gears lubed, the car told him. Ridiculous! Exclaimed the man. You simply are tired of being my car and you have been holding a grudge against me for one thing or another! You stupid and hateful car! Don’t you know what a good man I am? And with that he crudely shifted into gear and raced down the highway.
The shifting problem continued. The man insisted it was the car’s fault and the car sadly came to accept that fact that there would be no grease applied. Time went on.
On another incident, a small economy car accidentally scratched the rear right side on the way out of the grocery store parking lot. Being cocky, the other car sneered and ran away. It was a hit and run sort of thing, the convertible told her owner when he returned. Of course it is your fault for how you appear, the man said. How can it be? Questioned the car in her mind. I have not been washed in weeks and cannot recall when I have ever been waxed! So, now, with some mechanical problems and a deep mark showing on the side, the beautiful red convertible had to admit she was no longer new and full of ambition.
One dreary and rainy morning the man was in a hurry to get to church and jumped into his car. She turned over and started well but as he began to reverse the car he heard a shrill noise and also realized the brakes were not functioning properly. There was no pressure on the pedal and the man became very angry. You wretched and unreliable beast! Can you not even start and stop as I like? Did you forget that you are my car and I am your owner? I OWN you and I command you to brake properly! Of course this was ridiculous and the car began to say so. I am not a wretched car! I am a little dirty, and there is some slip in the tranny, but you have not once added brake fluid and you really should check the rear left brake line!
Well, when the car said this the man immediately got out of the drivers seat and went around near the rear tire. Wonderful! Thought the once beautiful convertible. He is finally realizing his error! But alas, how wrong the optimistic car had been, for the man only angrily kicked the hubcap which then fell off. Now you see! He said. You are such a disrespectful car! And not wishing to anger him further the car said nothing at all.
In his foolishness the man got back in the car, reversed out of his drive and began to speed down the road. You will do as I say! He commanded to his vehicle. But I cannot! Exclaimed the exasperated convertible. I have no brake fluid, as there is a broken line! But the pride of the man would not allow him to concede, and so he only accelerated further. Soon the pair were rushing down a steep hill, and at the final bend the man exclaimed “There are no brakes! There are no brakes!” and they flew off the bend and off the road and into a deep ravine.
The man was greatly injured. In an attempt to do well, the car had been sure to release the air bag. Due to the horn sounding, someone quickly noticed the accident and called for help; the man was rushed to the hospital and lived. The beautiful red convertible, now only red and twisted metal, was left in the ravine until someone could make time to pull her out. There was really nothing anyone could do now; it was a total loss.
The man recovered from his injuries and was released from the hospital. He was very vocal about all he had been through. He never failed to mention how much he loved the wonderful car and how he could not understand how the accident had ever happened. Those who did not know him well were very sympathetic; oh yes, they would say, life can be complicated. But those who knew him would simply turn away to hide their disgust, and the other cars in the neighborhood fondly remembered the loving, bright and once stunning red convertible.

Announcing, Ruth will soon be a blogger

Hi Everyone, I am going to start posting to this blog soon. Look for my posts and stories here!