Older people these days are often mocked, discounted, and even blamed for the world’s troubles. “Okay Boomer” is now an internet insult. What most people fail to grasp is the value our elders have that is 100% impossible to replicate. Experience.
Guest post by Old Timer
As the snow falls gently, I stand and remember
With my hand on my chin, deep in the timber.
I come here for it’s quiet, lonely, and still,
I hide like the whitetail, in valley and on hill.
Just what happened, and what went wrong?
Are the good times over, wasn’t that Merle’s song?
It began real slow, and then it picked up steam,
like a chain of events, that cause a runaway team.
I stand and ponder, on what happened and why,
I come here to think, to pray and to cry.
If you say that is foolish, read Ezekiel chapter nine,
Read it with a looking glass, search it real fine.
It used to be different, a man’s word was his bond.
It used to be slower, like fishin’ a quiet pond.
Listen to speeches, by Eisenhower and Truman,
Makes a man wonder, if this new crop is human.
The police were good folk, you considered them brother;
The children were fed, had Father and Mother.
Much of that is gone now, vanished like vapor;
A handshake means nothing, they want it on paper.
“What is the temp, and did that old mare foal?”
Men used to talk like that, but that time is no mo.
I am old fashioned, yes that is for sure,
A disease says society, of which is no cure.
Hold the door open, for a lady and a man,
Oil the old cook stove and the cast iron pan.
Have you slammed a truck door, and heard an owl talk back?
Sought shelter from a rain, in an old rusty shack?
Men used to know, how to scald and scrape a hog,
And most could take an axe, and hack out a log.
They say country folk, they’re ignorant and dumb,
Stick up their noses and give you the thumb.
But that’s the price you’ll pay, for not being fake,
For not chasing riches, and money forsake.
Materialism is a cancer, that has eaten this nation;
It’s been pumped like gas, from a huge fillin’ station.
I would rather be poor, and real to the bone,
And not dance one step, to this new music tone.
So I reckon, I’ll die soon, and no longer cry;
As the Lord takes my spirit, high in the sky.
And as the snow falls gently, I stand and remember,
with my hand on my chin, deep in the timber.“
— Old Timer
Slow down, look back
This is my home, and most of the older folks in this video are gone. Seaman Rayfield, the man at the beginning of this video passed in 2012 and I sat with him on his deathbed, and we talked of the change he had seen in his lifetime – much change. I know the video is long, but it tells a story for those who have ears to hear and eyes to see. There is even a part two on Youtube for any who cares to view it also.
The Ozarks is a fine place to live, as are many places in America, I am certain; this just happens to be home for me. My purpose for the poem could be summed up rather easily: People are in too much of a hurry and have forgotten where they come from. Slow down, look back. Men and women used to be unique and full of character, but now people have succumbed to a life as if somebody had cut them all out like little gingerbread men. Thank you for your time. — Old Timer
“Thus saith the LORD, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your souls… but they said, we will not walk therein.” Jer. 6;16)