Dear little white-haired man, slowly puffing your cigar on a park bench,
dear little bent over lady, crossing the street with small, careful steps,
I feel such a tenderness towards you. You have shown us the world, explained what's right and wrong. You have taught us how to make pancakes or drive a car, you've always been there to listen and give us good advice.
Now that you are getting old, it's like we are forgetting you, or we don't need you anymore. We grow impatient when you're so slow at the cashier, we frown at you when you forget what we said just a minute ago, and we put you away to live in homes for the elderly.
What kind of "civilization" is ours, that actually makes it impossible us from letting you end your lives surrounded by children and grandchildren...?
At least we should take notice of you, talk to you, and show you our appreciation.
I will write a letter to dear tante Lisette, aged 86, still organizing family reunions, and tell her how much I love her.