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A friend sent this to me. If you've read it already let the others read it.


Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.

Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every colour and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it. In his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.
She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

Epilogue:

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy. "Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."

[quote="Byron"]A friend sent this to me. If you've read it already let the others read it.


Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.

Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every colour and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it. In his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.
She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

Epilogue:

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can't buy. "Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."[/quote]

that good story bryon . it meen sometime big lier he tell only lies every day plenty lies. muslim not lie for allah see it. your brother ahmed

ahmed.......BLX

Erm......he wasn't telling lies. He was telling the other man what he could see. What he could see was in his mind's eye.
If you have a nightmare and wake up in a cold sweat because you've been scared half to death, it is because 'your' mind believed that what appeared in 'your' nightmare was real, was the truth, was actually happening.
Therefore, to follow 'your' reasoning, it is 'your' own mind that is telling you lies.
Checkmate.

I agree with Ahmed. It's often too easy to be lenient on a person just because they have a physical handicap, especially those who exploit the fact. The blind chap was a perpetual liar - a pathological deceiver who habitually told a pack of lies day in and day out - and the false truth-twister probably got a lot of pleasure out of hood-winking the poor sod lying flat on his back all day long. And the nurse who stuck him over on the dark side of the room and put a blind man next to the window must also have had some kind of massive cruel streak. And the architect who designed a hospital with rooms overlooking nothing but a solid brick wall must have had a real huge grudge against humanity - maybe he didn't get enough hugs when he was little - maybe his wife wouldn't let him play 'hide-the-salami' that day. I don't know, but there are a lot of sick people around.
Ann

Too bl**dy true Ann. Most of them are in badly designed hospitals.....

Yes, Byron, very sad, but very true.

Linda.

Well, it was you who started talking about a blind man, not me. And blind people want money. Leonard even mentions this at the beginning of that long song when he's walking in New York and he sees a blind man with a placard strapped to his back that says 'Please don't pass me by!' He wanted Leonard's money, obviously - and that's why the song is under-titled 'A disgrace!' Just what sort of social services does America have when blind people have to wear placards on their backs and humiliate themselves by having to beg for money like that?

Ann

ann, my CPN says you is kruel an' I shoodn't talk too peopl like wot you are. But I said that you is cool an I like the way you help to put a perspex on things wot puzzle peopl. innit!

Byron wrote: [paraphrased]
>My C[ommunity] P[sychiatric] N[urse] says that you are cruel, and that I should be wary of talking to people like you. But I answered that I think you are cool, and that I enjoy the way you put confusing matters into perspective.


Well, sometimes a person has to be cruel to be kind. At the zoo a mother doesn't lift her son up to the cage when he screams that he wants to stroke the resting tiger.

The world is full of manipulators, people who will take your money, people who twist things around. A placard stating 'Please don't pass me by' is really saying: :'Give me your money!' - it is lying by omission - it is begging - and these people are parasiting on the community for which your psychiatric nurse works. Giving them money only encourages them - they're like pigeons; feed them once and they'll never go away. And people who give them alms more often than not are feeding a selfish need to feel good. Leonard doesn't actually say he gave the blind beggar any money, and personally I don't believe he did. Because money is the root of all evil. And in one song he even sings: 'The hand of your beggar is burdened down with money!'

ann et yous snow speeks only truth. many beggers here in kabul sity they iss vermin. ann good woman et snow iss good man. cohen do rite to. it not good to cast moneys for beggers they buyes wisky. prays allah your brohter ahmed

"The poor will always be with us," said +, and it's true.

But yous jus got ta look at India an the throw, spin, Cast system, to see wot appens wiv peeepl wot is told that, "they don bad in a prevyous lift and got reincantated to supher as pun-witch-meant," by them bruvvers wot want to keep 'em down in the gutters, coz they got the powder man an they dont want to loose non of it, innit.

How can yous wark a kill-o-mater in me shoos man, when I ain't got no shoos? Try spyin' from down 'ere sissta, insted of glowtin' from up ther.

Respect to the disrespected, man.

lizzytysh wrote:
>I'm very sorry to hear that you are having to painfully watch your half-sister endure this ending. I know it's little consolation that you both are having the time to say goodbye. I'm very sorry.

Hello Elizabeth. It was nice of you to write this - caring and sympathetic. I do not know this relative. She was 7 when our paths separated - and she is now 48. The story is tumultuous. I wonder which is worse; to learn that one is going to lose a sister to whom one has had a close relationship, or to lose a sister to whom circumstances did not allow a close relationship. Regardless, it is heart-warming to know that you took the time to comment - something I will remember for a long time.

G

Dear Geoffrey,

Thank you so much for posting the poem from Professor Scobie. I like it very much. I love the tone that it adopts-the equivocation from black and white and silver and gold. I hope that he doesn't mind you posting it here. I'll probably look for his poetry elsewhere as I'm developing an interest in Canadian poetry. I didn't realize until recently that Professor Scobie won the Governor General's award for poetry. You are right that it is a distinct honor for one poet to pay homage of a sort to another.

I've been thinking about you and your half-sister who is ill. Like Lizzy, I send good thoughts to you and your family. Does your sister still live in England?

I also would like to compliment you for the fine avatar. The handwriting for "Geoffrey" looks vaguely familiar as does the style of artwork. It is a distinct honor that someone (I'm assuming) did this for you.

I hope you are continuing to write. I saw a production of MacBeth, the other night and I am still in awe. Shakespeare wrote:

"The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
making the green one red."

Isn't this lovely? The Latinate syllables in the first line changing to the mono-syllabic of the second.

Take care, Geoffrey, and enjoy that new grandchild.

Joe

Dear Geoffrey,
thank you for that beautiful little poem. so honest and natural, and with that vital little hint of humour that is always smiling from your work. what a tonic you are. after being silent for years you make me want to shout from the mountaintops. do you want to see a poem i wrote last night while taking a break from laquering my toe-nails? ok then. but be kind because it's my first one. i call it 'petals'.

petals
i've got nimble fingers and two damned good eyes
and i know that this might sound a bit crazy -
but if i pulled the wings from a dozen dead flies
i could make you a transparent daisy.

© 2005 - ann

Hello Ann!!

I enjoyed 'petals' so much - a truly special love poem, written by an exceptionally special lady. I knew you were different from the others when I went into your office that time and saw that you didn't have the obligatory rubber tree in the corner like all of your colleagues. And the way you had fastidiously interlocked those strips of pastry when making the trellis work on top of that delicate slice of apple strudle I saw in your lunch-box. Encore! /Snow

****See next page*****

I'm confused. I feel that Jarkko has given us a secret message by his quoting of Snow and Ann's previous posts. But I don't have the code to break it.


(I must think).

YdF

Everyone! Put on your Thinking Caps!


YdF