Altar Call – Opelika-Auburn News
Walter Albritton
Despite what ails me, I am awfully well for the
shape I am in
My
longtime friend Jennie Lynn Murphy honored me this week. She came across a
delightful poem written by an old geezer like me. I swelled with pride to think
that this poem made her think about me.
I
am getting older every day. My eyesight is dimming, and I can hardly hear, but
thank God, I still have my driver’s license.
I have had two knees replaced, and heaven only knows what will have to
be replaced next. Everything I do is slower than it used to be, but I still
manage to have my tank full of enthusiasm for life every morning.
I
like Jennie Lynn’s poem. I wish I had written it. I could have because it
reflects my desire never to give up, despite whatever ailments old age brings
on.
I
share it with you in the hope that some aging codger who is about ready to
throw in the towel will have a good laugh and decide to get back into life with
renewed passion. As you can tell by
reading the poem, the author is a winner who will never give up, a fighter
whose humor is contagious.
There's nothing the matter with
me,
I'm just as healthy as can be,
I have arthritis in both knees,
And when I talk, I talk with a
wheeze.
My pulse is weak, my blood is
thin,
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm
in.
All my teeth have had to come
out,
And my diet I hate to think
about.
I'm overweight and I can't get
thin,
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm
in.
And arch supports I need for my
feet.
Or I wouldn't be able to go out in the
street.
Sleep is denied me night after
night,
But every morning I find I'm all
right.
My memory's failing, my head's in a
spin.
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm
in.
Old age is golden I've heard it
said,
But sometimes I wonder, as I go to
bed.
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a
cup,
And my glasses on a shelf, until I get
up.
And when sleep dims my eyes, I say to
myself,
Is there anything else I should lay on
the shelf?
The reason I know my Youth has been
spent,
Is my get-up-and-go has
got-up-and-went!
But really I don't mind, when I think
with a grin,
Of all the places my get-up has
been.
I get up each morning and dust off
my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the
obits.
If my name is missing, I'm therefore
not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and jump back
into bed.
The moral of this as the tale
unfolds,
Is that for you and me, who are growing
old.
It is better to say "I'm
fine" with a grin,
Than to let people know the shape we
are in.
If we are
willing, we can learn a lot from old folks. My friend Sherrill Morrison has
endured chronic pain for years, but never complains. Ask him how he feels and
his answer is always the same. “Super,” he says.
People like
Sherrill, and the author of this amusing poem, offer strength that inspires and
helps us keep going, despite the aches and pains of our aging bodies. + + + +