Note from Robert Whitcomb:
Every year at this time, a longtime friend of mine, Frank Robinson, an art historian, poet and essayist who used to run the art museums at the Rhode Island School of Design and Cornell University, sends a poem from his home in Ithaca, N.Y. Here’s this year’s:
Senior Moments, 111
(written from a senior community)
A notice in our auditorium:
“Dear Alzheimer’s Patients:
Please don’t talk during the concert.
It disturbs the other guests.’’
xxx
Of course we love our children —
without them,
we wouldn’t have our grandchildren.
xxx
The challenge here:
You’re nobody now,
but you can’t forget
you were somebody once.
xxx
Just in Case
Of course, I’ll go first,
but just in case,
please write a note
to your successor
(not replacement, no, never!)
a brief note explaining me.
xxx
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xxx
Waiting for My Knee Replacement
A few helpful comments:
“It’s very painful – worse than a hip.”
“It’s a big deal.’’
“You’re walking so much better now,
you really don’t need an operation.’’
And then someone stole my walker –
or rather, walked away with it.
Even my cane clicks
every time I take a step.
Thank God
they operate tomorrow.
xxx
The Day After
People are so nice to me,
I must be very sick.
xxx
Here,
you’re out of step
If you’re perfectly healthy.
xxx
Each of us is known for our illness,
and each day,
we’re either better or worse or the same.
xxx
We grow smaller year by year.
They say it’s age,
But maybe, too,
it’s the way that time
keeps lopping off
our jobs, our homes, our friends.
We’re left with who we are,
nothing more, but nothing less.
xxx
We have so little time left,
we have all the time in the world.
xxx
My wish for everyone here –
a healthy life, an easy death,
and a lot of money left over.
