About Old People

I would like to preface this poem with saying that I have always loved old people and quite often enjoy their company more than some people my own age.  However, I do find it's sentiments funny... and the point, quite fantastic.  I recited this poem in a poetry competition in the Kiwanis Music Festival.  I have loved it ever since and I just found it again.  Thought I would share!

About Old People - Jean Little (from her book Hey World, Here I Am)

It all started when I told Emily that I didn't like old people.
Well, I don't. They scare me--especially the really ancient ones.
I never know what to say to them.
They stare as if you had dirt on your face.
They grab at you, and their hands are hard and bony.
They always want to kiss you. I hate their prickly kisses.
"She's got her father's ears," they say.
As if you're made out of used parts.
Sometimes they smell musty. Often they're nosy.
And you have to be polite, no matter how rude they are.
As I said, I don't like them.
When I said so to Emily, though, she was stunned!
You'd think I'd said I hated newborn babies or kittens.
"But you like Mrs. Thurstone, don't you?" she said at last.
I hadn't been thinking of Mrs. Thurstone.
She used to live next door to the Blairs, before they moved.
She's old all right. Eighty-six is no spring chicken.
"Sure," I said, laughing.
Just thinking about Mrs. Thurstone makes me laugh.
She's so fierce and scary, and then she hands you a present.
I could see what Emily was getting at, of course.
"But she's somebody we know.
I meant I don't like old people in general."
Emily let that sink in.
I thought we'd finished with the topic.
Then she said, all in a rush,
"You know, Kate, every old person in general is somebody...
Somebody in particular."
I blinked.
"What?" I said.
Emily took a deep breath and tried again.
"Every old person is somebody," she said.
That was when her cousin James butted in.
I haven't a clue where he sprang from or how much he'd heard.
All at once he was there, though, and he snorted,
"You dope, Emily, everybody is somebody.
Not just old people."
We laughed at him.
Then Emily said sternly, "Don't interrupt, James.
Can't you see we're having a serious discussion?" 
He took off and we went on to something else.
But later, I got to thinking.
"Everybody is somebody," James had said.
He's only nine but he's somebody, that's for sure.
So's Emily and Mrs. Thurstone.
And I know I'm somebody.
And...old people