BS: Footprints in Time

Subject: RE: BS: Footprints in Time
From: michaelr
Date: 23 Nov 02 - 07:11 PM

Leave it to Spaw...

Subject: RE: BS: Footprints in Time
From: catspaw49
Date: 23 Nov 02 - 04:34 PM

Well, just to put a flip side on this, here's another oldie but goodie.........kinda' the same, but kinda' different you might say....

The Letter from Edna

Dear Safety Harbor Middle School:

God blesses you for the beautiful radio I won at your recent senior
citizens luncheon. I am 84 years old and live at the Safety Harbor
Assisted Home for the Aged. All of my family has passed away. I am all
alone now and it's nice to know that someone is thinking of me. God
bless you for your kindness to an old forgotten lady.

My roommate is 95 and always had her own radio, but before I received
one, she would never let me listen to hers, even when she was napping.
The other day her radio fell off the night stand and broke into a lot of pieces.

It was awful and she was in tears. She asked if she could listen to
mine, and I said, "Fuck you."

Life is good.

Sincerely,
Edna


Spaw

Subject: RE: BS: Footprints in Time
From: Jeanie
Date: 23 Nov 02 - 05:26 AM

Yes,Joan, this poem has been around for a long time, long before the internet. It's great that through the web, more people now get to read it. I've seen it performed on stage, very movingly - and my daughter's English teacher used it last year in a block of lessons encouraging teenagers to think about older people. Good stuff.

- jeanie

Subject: RE: BS: Footprints in Time
From: Joan from Wigan
Date: 23 Nov 02 - 05:16 AM

You don't say when that poem was found. I remember hearing the poem (or a very similar one) quite a few years ago, long before the days of the internet. And whether or not it was written by that little old lady, it certainly rings true.

Joan

Subject: RE: BS: Footprints in Time
From: mack/misophist
Date: 22 Nov 02 - 10:34 PM

With any luck, I'll die well before that time.

Subject: RE: BS: Footprints in Time
From: michaelr
Date: 22 Nov 02 - 10:08 PM

Thanks, Guest. My wife, who is a MA and caregiver to the elderly, had the same take on it.

Cheers,
Michael

Subject: RE: BS: Footprints in Time
From: GUEST
Date: 22 Nov 02 - 09:15 PM

Actually, I have a parent who IS one of those old souls, who lives in a nursing home now. She is the president of the Resident's Association, and doing very well. But many aren't. This is a wonderful poem about the need to see beyond the ravages of age and often times misfortune, and see the person for who they were, who they are, and who they are becoming, despite the superficiality of the "appearance" of age.

As to the likely "truth" of the back story, I rather doubt the veracity of it. It reads like a classic "Internet legend" piece of folklore. It appears to me to be written by a professional caregiver, or a family member, and not by the "geriatric patient" herself. I say that because of the "moral message" tone of the poem. But it sure rings true for those of us who spend a lot of time with the elderly, so I have no problem with the Hallmark tone of the message.

Subject: RE: BS: Footprints in Time
From: Ebbie
Date: 22 Nov 02 - 09:08 PM

Thanks, MichaelR.

Subject: BS: Footprints in Time
From: michaelr
Date: 22 Nov 02 - 08:57 PM

A friend of my wife's forwarded this to her as e-mail.
It looks like your typical sentimental, Hallmark-style internet item. I was wondering whether anyone knows if the back story is true?

FOOTPRINTS IN TIME

When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was felt that she had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through her 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 Ireland. The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world
is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet. Goes
to show that we all leave "SOME footprints in time".....


An Old Lady's Poem

What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles her 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 stocking 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 girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride 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 woman 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 man'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 husband is 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 woman ...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 girl 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, nurses, open and see, ..
Not a crabby old woman; look closer ...see ME!!


Remember this poem when you next meet an old person who you might
brush aside without looking at the young soul within ...... We will one day
be there, too!