Down the road a piece:
Why I use walking sticks
I can’t remember why I bought my walking sticks, or walking poles if you want a different name for them. I only know I’ve had them for a long time, several years.
I recall crossing a brook just off the Appalachian Trail, where without the walking poles I would have no doubt slipped and fallen off the rocks on which I was balancing my way across. The walking poles, dug into the stream bed, kept me upright and balanced.
I didn’t slip or fall.
I’ve used them on steep places, where I needed a little extra upright-oomph to stay upright. They helped there a good bit.
I now use them for regular walking, and not just because I recently had both hips replaced at ye olde horsepital. With those walking poles, I can walk faster, indoors or outside. I can also walk easier. Without them I take shorter steps. With them, my stride lengthens a bit.
I was only truly threatened by a mean dog once, before I started using walking poles. I jumped back and growled back at the beastie. With the poles, I could have jumped back, growled at the beastie, and whacked it with them. I know walking poles are great for whacking dogs. Even though I’ve never used them for that noble purpose.
I do use them for irritating our cat, Pest or whatever we happen to call her at any given moment. She loves to bite on them. They are metal, which somehow attracts her to them. I don’t understand that desire to bite them, and it has never occurred to me to bite them. But she clings to them with her teeth … when she’s not clinging to my hand with her claws. I much prefer her clinging to the poles with her teeth than to my hand with her claws.
I never used them for horseback riding. I learned I could fall off pretty well without them. And I could then cuss out the horse and climb back on. Most horses don’t like being cussed out, and they seem to prefer me just climbing back on its hairy and saddled back.
One horse just put his nose down and sniffed me after I fell off, right after a strange dog had jumped out of the bushes in the woods. I thanked the hoss for waiting and climbed back on his saddled back. Oh, yeah, that hoss never ran into the barn with me aboard, as he did with other kids aboard. And, another oh yeah, he once slept in his stall with his big head (if you don’t know, horses have big heads … and heavy) on my lap.
I had never thought of even having a walking pole at that tender age. I had thought of having a horse. But that never happened. Even without a walking pole.
I’ve encountered bears, wildcats, coyotes, fox, and other at-times-unfriendly critters, but have never even thought of whacking them with a walking pole. Probably because I didn’t have one with me at those surprising moments.
I’ve also encountered many tourists, when I was driving a tourist bus to Bangor and through Acadia National Park. But, even though my faithful walking poles was alongside me, I never thought about using it on any of them. Tourists must be harmless.
I have them now, leaning on a table alongside my desk that keeps my computer off the floor. I never think of using them on the floor, the desk, or the computer.
They are waiting now for me to get up, lean on them, and head out to the rest of our domicile.
Walking poles are great gadgets on which to lean.
And, if you write that above sentence just right, with or without the walking poles, you can end it without using a pronoun as an ending.
Now that I’ve ended this walking-pole bit, I’ll take hold of those poles, lean on them, and head out of the study.
Easy there, walking poles, don’t drop me.
Okay, we won’t.
Did you read what they just said to me.
My final use for walking poles; they are great conversationalists.
Milt Gross can be reached for corrections, harassment, or other purposes at lesstraveledway@roadrunner.com.
