by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator
Rosie and I spent the day on the road and one of our many stops was at a nursing home - artfully called a "living center" - where we visited with a dear friend who will be ninety-one tomorrow. Mertie doesn't have much personal space in her half-room, so we took her a couple of consumables - Whoppers and a Sonic Cherry Limeade - that we thought she would enjoy. In the past we have taken small stuffed animals, and she likes those as well - but again, space is an issue.
We sat outside in the cool mid-morning air for quite awhile and Rosie was able to join us there. Sometimes she is antsy as a teenager in church, but today she calmed right down with Mert and sat on her lap for a quarter of an hour or so enjoying our friend's attentions.
I'm not a fan of nursing homes, and this one is more than a little dreary. Walking through the main entrance leads directly to the television lounge where the TV is always set to Fox News - and that sort of sets the tone for the whole building. But, it's not my home - praise Allah - and Mertie seems to be happy there, so I will drop my critique of the place at this point.
Here is a bit of verse from one of my favorite poets, the late Maya Angelou. In "Old Folks Laugh" she captures the wafting essence of the elderly.
Old Folks Laugh
by Maya Angelou
They have spent their
content of simpering,
holding their lips this
and that way, winding
the lines between
their brows. Old folks
allow their bellies to jiggle like slow
tambourines.
The hollers
rise up and spill
over any way they want.
When old folks laugh, they free the world.
They turn slowly, slyly knowing
the best and the worst
of remembering.
Saliva glistens in
the corners of their mouths,
their heads wobble
on brittle necks, but
their laps
are filled with memories.
When old folks laugh, they consider the promise
of dear painless death, and generously
forgive life for happening
to them.
Poetry Appreciator
Rosie and I spent the day on the road and one of our many stops was at a nursing home - artfully called a "living center" - where we visited with a dear friend who will be ninety-one tomorrow. Mertie doesn't have much personal space in her half-room, so we took her a couple of consumables - Whoppers and a Sonic Cherry Limeade - that we thought she would enjoy. In the past we have taken small stuffed animals, and she likes those as well - but again, space is an issue.
We sat outside in the cool mid-morning air for quite awhile and Rosie was able to join us there. Sometimes she is antsy as a teenager in church, but today she calmed right down with Mert and sat on her lap for a quarter of an hour or so enjoying our friend's attentions.
I'm not a fan of nursing homes, and this one is more than a little dreary. Walking through the main entrance leads directly to the television lounge where the TV is always set to Fox News - and that sort of sets the tone for the whole building. But, it's not my home - praise Allah - and Mertie seems to be happy there, so I will drop my critique of the place at this point.
Here is a bit of verse from one of my favorite poets, the late Maya Angelou. In "Old Folks Laugh" she captures the wafting essence of the elderly.
Old Folks Laugh
by Maya Angelou
They have spent their
content of simpering,
holding their lips this
and that way, winding
the lines between
their brows. Old folks
allow their bellies to jiggle like slow
tambourines.
The hollers
rise up and spill
over any way they want.
When old folks laugh, they free the world.
They turn slowly, slyly knowing
the best and the worst
of remembering.
Saliva glistens in
the corners of their mouths,
their heads wobble
on brittle necks, but
their laps
are filled with memories.
When old folks laugh, they consider the promise
of dear painless death, and generously
forgive life for happening
to them.
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