The end
Short Story
- Thread starter moreluck
- Start date
1BROWNWRENCH
Amatuer Malthusian
My Grandfather was late for work the day the mine blew up.
moreluck
golden ticket member
(from No Minamalist Here blog)
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.
One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. 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 simple, but eloquent, 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.
Cranky Old Man
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?
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 is 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.
It's 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 man 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 cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!
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.
One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. 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 simple, but eloquent, 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.
Cranky Old Man
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?
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 is 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.
It's 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 man 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 cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!
moreluck
golden ticket member
This is a wonderful story and it is true. You will be pleased
that you read it, and I believe you will pass it on. It is an important
piece of American history.
It happened every Friday evening, almost without fail, when the sun resembled a giant orange and was starting to dip into the blue ocean.
Old Ed came strolling along the beach to his favorite pier.
Clutched in his bony hand was a bucket of shrimp. Ed walks out to the end of the pier, where it seems he almost has the world to himself. The glow of the sun is a golden bronze now.
Everybody's gone, except for a few joggers on the beach. Standing out on the end of the pier, Ed is alone with his thoughts...and his bucket of shrimp.
Before long, however, he is no longer alone. Up in the sky a
thousand white dots come screeching and squawking, winging their way toward that lanky frame standing there on the end of the pier.
Before long, dozens of seagulls have enveloped him, their wings fluttering and flapping wildly. Ed stands there tossing shrimp to the hungry birds. As he does, if you listen closely, you can hear him say with a smile, 'Thank you. Thank you.'
In a few short minutes the bucket is empty. But Ed doesn't leave.
He stands there lost in thought, as though transported to another time and place.
When he finally turns around and begins to walk back toward the beach, a few of the birds hop along the pier with him until he gets to the stairs, and then they, too, fly away. And old Ed quietly makes his way down to the end of the beach and on home.
If you were sitting there on the pier with your fishing line in
the water, Ed might seem like 'a funny old duck,' as my dad used to say. Or, to onlookers, he's just another old codger, lost in his own weird world, feeding the seagulls with a bucket full of shrimp.
To the onlooker, rituals can look either very strange or very
empty. They can seem altogether unimportant .... maybe even a lot of nonsense.
Old folks often do strange things, at least in the eyes of Boomers and Busters.
Most of them would probably write Old Ed off, down there in
Florida ... That's too bad. They'd do well to know him better.
His full name: Eddie Rickenbacker. He was a famous hero in World War I, and then he was in WWII. On one of his flying missions across the Pacific, he and his seven-member crew went down. Miraculously, all of the men survived, crawled out of their plane, and climbed into a life raft.
Captain Rickenbacker and his crew floated for days on the rough waters of the Pacific. They fought the sun. They fought sharks. Most of all, they fought hunger and thirst. By the eighth day their rations ran out. No food. No water. They were hundreds of miles from land and no one knew where they were or even if they were alive. Every day across America millions wondered and prayed that Eddie Rickenbacker might somehow be found
alive.
The men adrift needed a miracle. That afternoon they had a simple devotional service and prayed for a miracle. They tried to nap. Eddie leaned back and pulled his military cap over his nose. Time dragged on. All he could hear was the slap of the waves against the raft...
Suddenly, Eddie felt something land on the top of his cap. It was a seagull!
Old Ed would later describe how he sat perfectly still, planning
his next move. With a flash of his hand and a squawk from the gull, he managed to grab it and wring its neck. He tore the feathers off, and he and his starving crew made a meal of it - a very slight meal for eight men. Then they used the intestines for bait. With it, they caught fish, which gave them food and more bait . . . and the cycle continued. With that simple survival technique, they were able to endure the rigors of the sea
until they were found and rescued after 24 days at sea.
Eddie Rickenbacker lived many years beyond that ordeal, but he never forgot the sacrifice of that first life-saving seagull... And he never stopped saying, 'Thank you.' That's why almost every Friday night he would walk to the end of the pier with a bucket full of shrimp and a heart full of gratitude
Reference:
(Max Lucado, "In The Eye of the Storm", pp...221, 225-226)
PS: Eddie Rickenbacker was the founder of Eastern Airlines. Before WWI he was race car driver. In WWI he was a pilot and became America 's first ace. In WWII he was an instructor and military adviser, and he flew missions with the combat pilots. Eddie Rickenbacker is a true American hero. And now you know another story about the trials and sacrifices that brave men have endured for your freedom.
As you can see, I chose to pass it on. It is a great story that
many don't know...You've got to be careful with old guys, You just never know what they have done during their lifetime
that you read it, and I believe you will pass it on. It is an important
piece of American history.
It happened every Friday evening, almost without fail, when the sun resembled a giant orange and was starting to dip into the blue ocean.
Old Ed came strolling along the beach to his favorite pier.
Clutched in his bony hand was a bucket of shrimp. Ed walks out to the end of the pier, where it seems he almost has the world to himself. The glow of the sun is a golden bronze now.
Everybody's gone, except for a few joggers on the beach. Standing out on the end of the pier, Ed is alone with his thoughts...and his bucket of shrimp.
Before long, however, he is no longer alone. Up in the sky a
thousand white dots come screeching and squawking, winging their way toward that lanky frame standing there on the end of the pier.
Before long, dozens of seagulls have enveloped him, their wings fluttering and flapping wildly. Ed stands there tossing shrimp to the hungry birds. As he does, if you listen closely, you can hear him say with a smile, 'Thank you. Thank you.'
In a few short minutes the bucket is empty. But Ed doesn't leave.
He stands there lost in thought, as though transported to another time and place.
When he finally turns around and begins to walk back toward the beach, a few of the birds hop along the pier with him until he gets to the stairs, and then they, too, fly away. And old Ed quietly makes his way down to the end of the beach and on home.
If you were sitting there on the pier with your fishing line in
the water, Ed might seem like 'a funny old duck,' as my dad used to say. Or, to onlookers, he's just another old codger, lost in his own weird world, feeding the seagulls with a bucket full of shrimp.
To the onlooker, rituals can look either very strange or very
empty. They can seem altogether unimportant .... maybe even a lot of nonsense.
Old folks often do strange things, at least in the eyes of Boomers and Busters.
Most of them would probably write Old Ed off, down there in
Florida ... That's too bad. They'd do well to know him better.
His full name: Eddie Rickenbacker. He was a famous hero in World War I, and then he was in WWII. On one of his flying missions across the Pacific, he and his seven-member crew went down. Miraculously, all of the men survived, crawled out of their plane, and climbed into a life raft.
Captain Rickenbacker and his crew floated for days on the rough waters of the Pacific. They fought the sun. They fought sharks. Most of all, they fought hunger and thirst. By the eighth day their rations ran out. No food. No water. They were hundreds of miles from land and no one knew where they were or even if they were alive. Every day across America millions wondered and prayed that Eddie Rickenbacker might somehow be found
alive.
The men adrift needed a miracle. That afternoon they had a simple devotional service and prayed for a miracle. They tried to nap. Eddie leaned back and pulled his military cap over his nose. Time dragged on. All he could hear was the slap of the waves against the raft...
Suddenly, Eddie felt something land on the top of his cap. It was a seagull!
Old Ed would later describe how he sat perfectly still, planning
his next move. With a flash of his hand and a squawk from the gull, he managed to grab it and wring its neck. He tore the feathers off, and he and his starving crew made a meal of it - a very slight meal for eight men. Then they used the intestines for bait. With it, they caught fish, which gave them food and more bait . . . and the cycle continued. With that simple survival technique, they were able to endure the rigors of the sea
until they were found and rescued after 24 days at sea.
Eddie Rickenbacker lived many years beyond that ordeal, but he never forgot the sacrifice of that first life-saving seagull... And he never stopped saying, 'Thank you.' That's why almost every Friday night he would walk to the end of the pier with a bucket full of shrimp and a heart full of gratitude
Reference:
(Max Lucado, "In The Eye of the Storm", pp...221, 225-226)
PS: Eddie Rickenbacker was the founder of Eastern Airlines. Before WWI he was race car driver. In WWI he was a pilot and became America 's first ace. In WWII he was an instructor and military adviser, and he flew missions with the combat pilots. Eddie Rickenbacker is a true American hero. And now you know another story about the trials and sacrifices that brave men have endured for your freedom.
As you can see, I chose to pass it on. It is a great story that
many don't know...You've got to be careful with old guys, You just never know what they have done during their lifetime
moreluck
golden ticket member
The Story of Good Friday....
The famous Bible story begins with Judas Iscariot's betrayal of Jesus. Despite being one of Christ's disciples, Judas betrayed Christ. Jesus was brought before the Roman governor Pontius Pilate. Although Pilate could not find any evidence against Jesus, he gave in to the crowd's clamor to crucify Christ. Christ was flogged, made to wear a crown of thorns, and eventually crucified alongside two common criminals. The story goes that when Christ finally gave up his spirit there was an earthquake. This happened on Friday, which later came to be known as Good Friday.
Jesus's followers later placed his body in a tomb just before sunset. However, the wondrous tale does not end here. On third day, which is now known as Easter, Jesus rose from the grave. As American author Susan Coolidge put it, "Earth's saddest day and gladdest day were just three days apart!" This is why most Easter quotes brim over with happiness. A famous quote by Carl Knudsen goes, "The story of Easter is the story of God's wonderful window of divine surprise."
The famous Bible story begins with Judas Iscariot's betrayal of Jesus. Despite being one of Christ's disciples, Judas betrayed Christ. Jesus was brought before the Roman governor Pontius Pilate. Although Pilate could not find any evidence against Jesus, he gave in to the crowd's clamor to crucify Christ. Christ was flogged, made to wear a crown of thorns, and eventually crucified alongside two common criminals. The story goes that when Christ finally gave up his spirit there was an earthquake. This happened on Friday, which later came to be known as Good Friday.
Jesus's followers later placed his body in a tomb just before sunset. However, the wondrous tale does not end here. On third day, which is now known as Easter, Jesus rose from the grave. As American author Susan Coolidge put it, "Earth's saddest day and gladdest day were just three days apart!" This is why most Easter quotes brim over with happiness. A famous quote by Carl Knudsen goes, "The story of Easter is the story of God's wonderful window of divine surprise."
moreluck
golden ticket member
Like Son, Like Father.....
Caught in a sudden downpour on the last day of a bike-packing trip, I ducked into the lobby of a nearby supermarket for cover. As I waited out the storm with my bicycle and gear, a teenage boy invited me to spend the night with his family. I gladly accepted, and he went to find his parents.
While I waited, an older man made me the same offer. I thanked him and said I already had a place to stay.
Shortly after, the boy returned with his parents. The man who had approached me was his father.
Philip Wood (Orlando) in Reader's Digest
Caught in a sudden downpour on the last day of a bike-packing trip, I ducked into the lobby of a nearby supermarket for cover. As I waited out the storm with my bicycle and gear, a teenage boy invited me to spend the night with his family. I gladly accepted, and he went to find his parents.
While I waited, an older man made me the same offer. I thanked him and said I already had a place to stay.
Shortly after, the boy returned with his parents. The man who had approached me was his father.
Philip Wood (Orlando) in Reader's Digest
moreluck
golden ticket member
New Home - New Hound
When we adopted Grant from the shelter, his papers came with a handwritten letter on hospital paper: "Grant is four years old, likes toys, and enjoys sitting on the left side of the chair to watch TV."
Apparently Grant's former owner wasn't coming home. Grant suffered from depression.
Six months after his adoption, I saw an obituary with a picture of a woman holding a dog that looked like Grant.
At about that time, Grant changed. He became playful and happy. It was as if someone had whispered in his ear, "This is your home now, and they love you." Glenda Plozay, St. Olaf, Iowa
When we adopted Grant from the shelter, his papers came with a handwritten letter on hospital paper: "Grant is four years old, likes toys, and enjoys sitting on the left side of the chair to watch TV."
Apparently Grant's former owner wasn't coming home. Grant suffered from depression.
Six months after his adoption, I saw an obituary with a picture of a woman holding a dog that looked like Grant.
At about that time, Grant changed. He became playful and happy. It was as if someone had whispered in his ear, "This is your home now, and they love you." Glenda Plozay, St. Olaf, Iowa
moreluck
golden ticket member
Pushing the Envelope ....
I was relaxing on a recent Saturday when the doorbell rang.
Two pleasant grade-school children, a girl and a boy, were standing at my front door.
Each held a few pieces of paper and an envelope stapled together.
"Hello", said the girl." "We are raising money for a jogathon for Weldon Elementary. Would you like to donate?"
"Maybe," I responded. "Just where is the money you are collecting going to go?" They answered in unison, "Oh it goes in this envelope."
I smiled and handed each a five-dollar bill.
Gid Adkisson (Clovis, CA.)
I was relaxing on a recent Saturday when the doorbell rang.
Two pleasant grade-school children, a girl and a boy, were standing at my front door.
Each held a few pieces of paper and an envelope stapled together.
"Hello", said the girl." "We are raising money for a jogathon for Weldon Elementary. Would you like to donate?"
"Maybe," I responded. "Just where is the money you are collecting going to go?" They answered in unison, "Oh it goes in this envelope."
I smiled and handed each a five-dollar bill.
Gid Adkisson (Clovis, CA.)
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