Wednesday, July 25, 2012

A Bit Off Topic

I came across this story and poem on Google+ and couldn't help but pass it on. I worked in a retirement home when I was in high school, and I ADORED the people living there. Elderly people are living history books and treasure troves of wisdom, and some of my best high school memories are from sitting in the lobby of the retirement home and talking with the residents.

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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 mags 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 vigour, 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!!

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

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Misgendering Myself

Finally settled into the summer vacation routine, gone on vacation and come back, and now, at long last, back here.

I ordered some clothes from OneStopPlus again - some t-shirts, some button-down shirts, and a pair of khaki cargo trousers. Gender-neutral stuff. Even though, on hot summer days, I find long skirts far more comfortable than trousers.

Each time I get a shipment, they send me loads of catalogs. Normally, I drop them straight into the recycle bin. But this last time, I got one for a company called Serengeti which intrigued me. In it was a lot of stuff like what I wore when I was in high school. Really neat hippy, import stuff.

A couple of examples:



Images courtesy of serengeticatalog.com

It is super-hard to find stuff like this in my size, so I was elated to see that it exists. I was ready to order five or six outfits. Then, I realized the irony. I had just opened a package of shirts *specifically chosen* because they were gender-neutral, and now I was going gaga over these very feminine items.

So...I'm trying to figure out how all of this fits with my gender-fluidity. Maybe I choose the clothes depending on my mood. Maybe the clothes help dictate how I feel and how I want to present. Maybe I'm still a ways off from really even trying to present as neutral, in spite of what I tell myself. Or maybe I don't really want to present as neutral at all.

If all of that sounds confusing, it's a sign of how muddled things are in my head.