All I want for Christmas is my favorite walking stick refinished

Dec. 13, 2007 –  Most years when someone asks what I need or want for Christmas, I can’t think of anything. I don’t need or want anything much and what I do need or want I usually get for myself when I need or want it.
But, this year was different. I wanted my favorite walking stick refinished—it was getting discolored at the top where one of my fingers often rubs the wood and it was really scarred up near the bottom where I have used it to knock down big weeds in the yard, small cats and large dogs and other pestilence I have encountered.

Now my favorite cane was not one I bought for that purpose. It just turned out to be the one I almost always use, because it is more comfortable in weight and construction.

It was made in England. I’m not sure what kind of wood it is, but the handle—which looks like some kind of exotic animal tusk or bone—is as I describe it to inquirers, “genuine English plastic.”

It has a knob on the front which keeps my hand in place and a sort of hook on the back which is useful for moving things like the footstool at my favorite chair in our den, keeping small children and animals in check, and for pulling out the foot rest on the recliner-type chairs at the dialysis center in Oxford.

The last time it was renewed was when Terry Martin was rebuilding the front bedroom and bath several years ago. He simply sanded it off smooth and applied a coat of spray lacquer.

This time it looked a little rougher when I suggested it needed some work. He was installing cabinets in daughter Lisa’s kitchen which was being redone, along with most of the rest of her house.

I told him to discard the rubber tip, which was getting worn and for which I have several replacements purchased at various times.
He brought me the finished cane several days later, redone in a slightly darker color, which Lisa said exactly matched her cabinets.
Anyway I quickly replaced the tip and began to use it again.

I have used a cane in my right hand since I got out of a wheelchair following a head-on collision in 1989. The idea, according to the doctor who mended my crushed pelvis, was to put one-half of my weight that would have been on my left leg, on my right arm.
I very quickly mastered the use of the cane in straight walking, but still have a problem with stairs.

“It’s like heaven and hell,” explained the therapist. “The good goes up first and the bad goes down.”
I concluded I was theologically impaired, because I never did, and still don’t get it right.

The cane I chose, from a collection over the years of maybe two dozen, to use while my favorite was being overhauled was a rather fashionable black tapered stick with a white head. Three horse heads were carved into the front—one of which was about half gone due to an inadvertent fall from some resting place.

I have had two other canes with handles like my favorite. I gave one of them to Alline Jackson of Bruce when she went lame and the other to Velma Bounds of Calhoun City when she developed trouble walking in her later years.

There is a cane holder at the newspaper office in Bruce which includes two from India or Africa given to me at various times by the late Dean Arrington of Coffeeville, and one with a twisted cane topped off with a deer horn from Mike Colbert of Houston.

The most colorful is from Mexico, brought by two ladies who had been there on a mission trip. It has a lot red and features the drawing of a snake and several geometric and colorful designs.

Anyway, with the newly redone cane I have all I need for Christmas.
Thank you, Terry.