Josie picked this old cane from the crockery churn in the mud room where we keep umbrellas and walking sticks and, as she practiced walking with it, I was overcome with a sense of nostalgia and the feeling of somehow coming full circle.
I 'won' the cane at the Florida State Fair over sixty years ago. It was one of those Guess Your Weight concessions and the guy -- who'd been quite accurate with all his other customers -- missed the mark with me. The cane was my prize for being tall and thin and wearing bulky winter clothes.
It was a gaudy thing, before the paint faded. Made in Mexico, it has the Mexican eagle holding a snake, along with other figures roughly carved and painted on it.
I was thrilled with my prize. I took it home and gave it to my beloved grandfather who always carried a walking stick.
Twenty some years later, he was still using it -- here on a walk with my older son -- who is also sporting a cane.
I inherited the Mexican cane and used it when I had back surgery, again when I had a knee replacement, and, most recently, after the catastrophe two years ago. It's not needed at this time but I keep it handy, just in case. For now I'm pleased to see the youngest generation playing with it.
