Popcorn and fresh cranberries strung on dental floss with light
darning needles make wonderful strands of food for winter birds when
hung on trees outside senior’s windows. In preparation, tie a meter of
dental floss onto each of the needles and “store” them stuck into the
top back of a soft chair. Have popcorn and cranberries in large bowls,
something to cover the floor, and seat seniors in position so they can
help their younger friends. The cranberries are safe, but watch out
for popcorn nibblers!
Carving October pumpkins is an industrious IG activity. Parent helpers
are an asset in this activity. Remember to save those pumpkin seeds.
The resourceful elder buddies will be expecting to be munching them up
the following day after the seeds are cleaned and roasted! The seeds
can also be another resource for a craft activity.
Give everyone a few weeks’ warning and hold an IG talent show. Seniors
may chose to perform, or may bring a piece of art. Painting is maybe
where their talent lies. Use a microphone so that everyone can hear
the performances, and make sure that CD’s played for lip synchs aren’t
overbearing. Even part of the school band can perform...just turn
those hearing aids down.
Everyone loves cookies! Have large batch of sugar cookie dough made up
ahead of time by volunteers. Make sure children/youth and seniors wash
their hands, dawn plastic gloves, and then roll out the dough to about
3/8 inch thickness. Cut shaped cookies out, preferably with plastic
cutters that have image imprinting capabilities, i.e. so a tulip cut
out looks like a 3-D tulip because of interior lines. Make ‘painted icing’.
Check out the Video Clip.
It’s an IG Cookie Painting Party!
- a batch of sugar cookie dough, or similar light coloured rolling dough
- simple cookie cutters in various shapes (can be seasonal)
- rollers, pans
- small water colour or craft paintbrushes (size 8-12) that are clean
- several cups or glasses and teaspoons
- raw, medium or large sized eggs (fresh eggs have stronger protein and are create thicker more controllable ‘paint’
- small amounts of various colours of food colouring (liquid is best).
After cookie dough has been rolled out, and the cookies cut (about the thickness of a pencil), have participants lay them on pastry paper or directly on to the cookie tray.
Pre-mix the ‘paint’. This is one of the first type of paints made by artists, and was used in the Renaissance to paint on wood and other surfaces. It was called ‘egg tempra’. We like painting it on cookies... much easier to eat!
- Separate yolks from whites, save whites for adding to soups, etc.
- Stir the yolks to a smooth consistency, adding one teaspoon of water for each yolk.
- Divide the yolk mixture, putting approximately three tablespoonsful into separate clean cups
- Add a few drops of each of the colours to each cup, three primary colours, then mix to create secondary colours (R&Y=O, B&Y=G, R&B&Y=Black , or you can purchase paste in Black).
- Mix colours into the yolk thoroughly
- Place clean paint brush in each cup
- ‘Paint’ the yolk mixture onto the dough WHEN RAW, covering the surface thoroughly.
- Bake as usual.
SURE TO PLEASE, EASY TO DO, FUN TO SHARE.
PAINTED COOKIES VIDEO
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska , 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 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!
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. ....