There is an accumulation of canes in this house. They are testimony, I like to think, to the numbers of people who have lived to old age in our family. Some of them, of course, have been used by young people and not all belonged to family members. Each has a story, though at least two have not revealed their secrets to me.
The oldest and sturdiest of the canes were used by my great-grandfather, R.H. Espy. We have several photographs of him, taken when he was in his nineties, showing one of the canes. My Aunt Mona remembered that he sometimes used two. No one has ever said if it was his hips or knees or back that gave him trouble. I do know that he was said to have excellent posture and still rode horseback well into his eighties – not that I know what that has to do with anything.
R. H.’s son Harry (my grandfather) also used a cane in his ‘declining years,’ as did Harry’s daughter, Dale (my mother.) In my mother’s case, besides becoming a bit unsteady on her feet, it was her back that bothered her. But mostly, I always thought, she used a cane or a walking stick as an adjunct to whatever stylish get-up she was wearing.
She had a colorfully painted cane from Mexico – much shorter than it should have been to be useful – and a brass-headed walking stick that was so skinny it probably would have snapped in two had she put any weight on it.
The two most mysterious ‘canes’ appear to be very slim tree branches which grew with one end conveniently curved for use as a handle. Although they are about the right height, they are far too delicate to be of practical use. Why, then, were they kept with the other canes?
By far the most interesting cane is a lovely little ivory handled one. The handle is quite short and my mother said that it belonged to one of the preachers who lived in this house in the years (1892-1901) that it was a parsonage. He was missing two fingers and the handle of the cane had been fashioned to fit his grip. I have the idea that before he ‘heard the call,’ he had worked in a mill, but I may have just imagined that part of the story.
In recent years, it’s my own husband who has made use of that cane collection. One of the tallest and sturdiest is just right for him and he is adamant that he prefers it to any ‘fancy-schmancy’ three-point aluminum modern day walking canes or gnarly, faddish walking sticks. In some ways, I concur – though I do remember Terence O’Donnell’s walking stick with fondness.
Mostly though, it pleases me that Nyel has become a full-fledged member of the family, right down to using my great-grandfather’s cane!
Another sweet and poignant read! There are more than several canes in our downstairs entry hall “container” – a lovely Asian tall cylindrically shaped vessel that could be used only for canes as far as I can imagine. When time allows I plan to spend some time with them, ask about the stories they might share about their owners, their journeys…..