I always thought the world of Ed Morgan. It broke my heart when he told me he was moving back near Wallmart's headquarters. He is such a good man and his wife is just as nice.

Blaine F. Keith

 

Thanks, lots of good info.

Sara

(Lyn's note: There were many upcoming community events sent in by readers. I always enjoy publishing those! Please keep them coming.)

 

 

FYI: Paul and I worked together @ Childhelp for over a year. He was our spokesman on child abuse issues and often on Nancy Grace on this subject. He will give Sheriff Joe a run!

Martha Davis

(Lyn's note: Martha is referring to Paul Penzone.)

 

 

 

Well in my books you are as near perfect a person can be! But still human, so don't beat up on yourself. I needed that date as I have alerted folks around the Skyline drive/museum areas.

Anna Marsolo

(Lyn's note: It was Anna who caught my mistake in typing April, rather than August, for the APS public meeting.)

Lyn,

 

 

I found it interesting that APS still budgets for overhead lines. I just came back from 6 weeks in Asia. I remember when HK put all their lines underground in 1964. We lived there from 1968 to 2008 and we had two outages related to typhoons exceeding 130 mph.

Not an overhead line to be seen in Singapore. No one ever remembers a power outage.

But of course when you leave Singapore or HK airports and arrive in Los Angeles you quickly realize you have arrived in a 3rd world country.

Guess you can't have everything!

Tom S.

 

 

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Pastor Jayne! Can't give blood, hypoglycemic, and it irks the heck out of me.

Jakki

 

 

 

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in GRASS VALLEY, CA. 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 Missouri. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem. And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man...

What do you see nurses? . . .. . . What do you see?

What are you thinking . . . . . When you're looking at me?

A crabby 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'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 wife is now dead.

I look at the future . . . . . 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.

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 guy 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 crabby 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 if we live long enough! PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM. The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched.They must be felt by the heart.

Sent by Blaine Keith