CANE ... and ABLE

This past month Mr. Wonderful and I discovered the necessity and pleasure of using canes — me in recovery from a knee replacement, Mr. W. because a walking stick enhanced his stability. We didn’t necessarily want them but realized we didn’t have a choice.  Like “Happy Hour at Alisson’s” or Day/Night coded pill boxes, canes are just another benefit of ripening age

Before I even left Maine Med, a PT tech showed me how to hold a cane on my “good” side, not the “replacement” side when I walked, which made absolutely no sense to me. Initially, I was a little jerky in my stride but soon discovered the amazing power of that cane: speak softly, carry that big stick, smile, and you’ll be amazed how kind people are.

On a visit to the skin doctor several weeks after my surgery, I gimped into the lobby and noticed seven people waiting for the elevator. They took one look at me and Parted Like the Red Sea, forming an open path so I could easily enter the elevator cab, murmuring “Well done, Ma’am,” as if I’d finished a 5K in Guinness record time.

Same situation when I slogged into CVS and hobbled back to the prescription counter. Several people were standing in line, reading their phones, oblivious to the world. BUT NOT TO AN OLD LADY ON A CANE!  “Here, go ahead of me, Ma’am,” they said, almost pushing me to the counter.

I’m now cane-free but better educated about its use: when I see someone walking with a cane, I’m the first to stand aside, give them room, and silently cheer them on with a smile.

Mr. Wonderful started thinking about getting a cane a good while ago but he wanted something special. “Not those shiny orthopedic canes you get at the drug store,” he said, “I prefer getting something of substance. Maybe mahogany. Maybe carved.” So off we went to the Saturday Morning Artisan’s Market on Main Street, Kennebunk. 

Walking in, we immediately headed to a booth loaded with wooden canes and walking sticks, manned by a guy who looked like he’d just ridden in from Sturgis. “All hand-carved, each unique, various heights, superior sticks,” he said, in addition to regaling us with Harley stories from the road.

SALE!

“This is great for my afternoon walks,” Mr. W. said, “but I’d like another one that’s more appropriate for going out to dinner and to friends’ houses.” So we ambled up to another booth with a sign boasting WALT-KING STICKS AND MORE. What a selection Walt had.

It didn’t take Mr. W. long to pick his favorite — a gnarled maple cane with a smashing bronze handle. “Perfect!” he declared.

It’s said that a walking cane symbolizes authority, status, fashion or visual impairment. All true, but to us, a cane is even more: it’s a useful tool for balance that keeps us upright. Best of all, a cane reminds the world to smile.