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I'll always have this friend to lean on

By Ed Hayes, The Orlando Sentinel, Source: MCT News Service

Not so long ago, in the waning years of the 20th century, we lost our noble, in-the-pink cedar tree.

An exceedingly destructive hurricane by the name of Charlie came speeding up Interstate 4, eastbound, spied the eye-catcher on our front lawn, and devilishly uprooted it.

No, we weren't the only folks in the neighborhood that night to step outside after the wail of the siege subsided, and to take appalling note that our road and yards were clogged with impassable, environmental wreckage.

Thank God no home was scalped.

Some days later when a passing gentleman knocked on our door to inquire if he might pinch a souvenir branch or two of the dismantled cedar, my wife retorted, "Help thyself, neighbor."

Don't know what else this crafty artisan carved, but on Sunday next as we arrived home from church, two rustic walking sticks were parked at our front door. No card, no message, just there they were. How gracious. Now that's a neighborhood for you.

Apparently the taller of the two cedar poles was fashioned for hiking or shepherding. The second: a man's regular-sized cane, topped with a fastidiously carved circle for a handle, and for me it was love at first touch.

Feeling debonair all at once, I desired to grab up the cane and take a brisk turn to the end of our dead-end road and back. Just as suddenly my self-esteem flared up. I could imagine folks peering from behind curtains and whispering, "Hey, hon, look who has to use a cane!"

What's wrong with these people _ don't they know anything about panache?

I still remember a scene from a 1930s motion picture, Cary Grant sashaying from a snazzy nightclub, dolled up in top hat, white tie and tails, and nimbly spinning a sleek walking stick.

Although that picture is stuck unforgettably in my head, it's definitely debatable if I'll ever be tuned up so formally. The cane, now that's a different story.

I've been pondering about carrying it with me on outings purely as a fashion statement. Onlookers would thus become accustomed to the sight, and not be too bewitched about my welfare when the time comes, if and when I truly need its support.

Come to that, I could've made good use of my cane during one of our recent, unseasonably grim weather attacks. Crossing nippy Orange Avenue, I was caught off guard and unarmed and sent stumbling along like tumbleweed.

Surely you've observed that there's something splendidly shielding, companionable and compassionate about a cane. They're like anchors. There's something of a faithful dog about them. Some of my best friends use canes. Mine was caringly carved from the heart of one of them.

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(c) 2010, The Orlando Sentinel (Fla.).

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