An email was sent to me recently by Irv Weinstein, a retired Buffalo broadcaster, who years ago, despite an ancient friendship, mysteriously requested I remove him from my email address book.

Of course, I immediately did as requested; we have never corresponded since.

Then, suddenly just last week, I received this poem from him, via another colleague, Jerry Carr:


Crabby Old Man!

What do you see when you see nurses? What do you see?
What are they thinking when they are looking at me?
A crabby old man, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food and replies when you say loudly.
“I do wish you would try harder and more often!”
But I seem not to notice the things that you do,
I am forever is losing a sock or a shoe.
Who resisting or not lets you do as you will,
With bathing or feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you are thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, gentle nurse, you are not looking at me.
Let me tell you who I am, as I sit here so still,
As I do your bidding, as I dine at your will.
I am a small child of ten with a father and mother,
Sisters and brothers who love one another—
I am a young boy of sixteen, with wings on my feet,
Dreaming of a lover I will soon meet.
A groom soon at twenty—my heart gives a leap!—
Remembering the vows I promised to keep.
At twenty - five, I have kids of my own,
Who I must guide and secure a happy home;
A man of thirty—my kids grown so 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, kids play around my knee—
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Now the dark days are upon me, my wife is now dead;
I look at the future and shudder with dread,
For my kids are all raising kids of their own—
And I think of the years and the love I have known.

I am now an old man, and nature is cruel.
I jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart,
There is now 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,
As I remember the joys and I remember the pain—
I am loving and living all over again!
I think of the years, all gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact nothing good can last!
So, open yours eyes, nurses, open and see
Not a crabby old man—look closer—
See me!


Copyright©2013 by Robert A. Mills, all rights reserved