I was in the car repair shop. Pam is related to the people who fix our car. She is the cousin to the man who works on our cars. In this part of the country everyone is from here and everyone knows everyone else.
'Cept me.
When I say "everyone is from here" you are saying to yourself, "No that is not possible". But it is. Everyone that is here, is from here. 'Cept me.
As I was there I noticed ad small barrel in the corner of the waiting room. It was full of canes. Canes like people use to help them walk.
Pam was walking with a cane after having a "procedure" done in Fort Wayne. She was walking with a cane that someone gave her that looked like it cost twenty five cents at a garage sale. It is a metal cane with some of the paint rubbed off. It gets the job done, I suppose. We both are pretty utilitarian and no one much cares what your cane looks like. Right?
I had never seen a barrel of walking sticks and canes in a barrel in the corner of any room. Maybe I didn't understand what I thought I was seeing.
So I asked.
I am far from fearing people will think I'm stupid. I just ask. I was correct it was a barrel of canes.
"In fact", says the proprietor who is Pam's cousin, "One of the canes in there is Grandpa Toyer's". I asked if it would be okay for Pam to use it and they seemed delighted with the prospect.
I went home and told Pam and she was very quickly walking with "Dad Troyer's" can. (see the pictures below).
I don't quit know what to think of this. To me it is kinda sad when people start walking with canes and have these old people problems.
All of us old people have our issues. Someday I'll tell you some of mine. Then you will really be bored.
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