widows

"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light...." Brendan Behan's famous poem evoques wise old men, but we think that widows should rage as much as widowers, of course. Or sit down to a nice relaxing cup of tea with the dog and the cat in the absence of packs of screaming children and demanding husbands.

After our article, "Should Jeannie Pratt and Elisabeth Murdoch downsize to high rises in Activity Centers to give young people more room?" which reported on how the Committee for Melbourne and other growth lobby proponents seemed to discount the rights and value of elderly people in an ageist campaign to get them to vacate their homes to make way for infilling, we felt that we should do more to defend and promote the interests of the silver-headed.

by Brendan Behan

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Or, if you don't care to rage:

be a merry widow.