I don’t miss the cane … much

After several weeks, I am, hopefully, off of the cane for a while.

Last week, I was nearly off of it after a nasty kidney infection made walking difficult. Gradually, it became easier to walk on flat surfaces, but getting up and down stairs was still a challenge.
Then came that fateful Monday, when I did a face-plant into a laundry hamper (splintered), a TV stand (knocked askew) and an oak and ash end table (barely budged, but left a knot on my noggin). In the process, I banged up my left knee, arm and left side of my head.

As of Monday, I’m cane free, and loving it.

Canes are great to walk around with They lend an aura of stateliness.

But they are a bear to handle.

The problem is what to do with it when you sit down at your workstation, go to a restaurant, take photos, write down notes, or use the bathroom.

Canes are handy as arm extensions to grab things when they fall beneath your desk, pick up dirty towels out of the (remaining) clothes hamper, or get an able-bodied person to open a door for you. And they are really handy for their intended use, to prop yourself up with as you ambulate along.

But I don’t miss it.

Tuesday evening, Phyllis and I met at a local Mexican restaurant for a quick bite to eat before I came back to write this column and then cover the Neosho City Council meeting.

Thoughtfully, she brought my old friend, Old Hickory.

“Do you need your cane?” she asked.

“Nope,” I said, deftly stepping around a parking bollard, those concrete barriers that stop you from driving into a building. “Don’t need it at all.”

Then, my knee twinged. Later in the restaurant, it cramped, but popped when I stretched it out.
I hope that’s not a sign of things to come. But I’ll keep my cane handy, just in case.

o o o

I want to say thanks to all of the nice people who told me they enjoyed last week’s column.

OK, it was the women readers who were nice. One, Linda Langland, even apologized for having a laugh at my expense. But that’s OK. I wrote it so folks could laugh along with me. It wasn’t funny when it happened, but downright hilarious the next day.

My guy friends were a little more to the point.

“You clumsy [expletive deleted]!” Dave Horvath exclaimed when he saw me at the South Street overpass dedication last Friday.

Oh well, I’ve been called worse. And I’ve had worse things happen to me.

Such as the “wardrobe malfunction” in the city manager’s office. I’d been replacing the junk food in my diet with salads, yogurt and fruit and had lost a few pounds. My pants were getting loose. OK, they were swimming on me.

After interviewing City Manager Jan Blase, I stood up to shake his hand before leaving. Suddenly, SWOOP! My pants were down around my ankles.

I apologized profusely, my face no doubt redder than dad’s old barn, as I collected my wayward trousers.

“That’s OK,” he said. “At least it didn’t happen out in the front office, in front of the girls.”

I was just thankful Phyllis had gotten me new underwear for my birthday, and I’d had the foresight to be wearing a pair of them that day.

I’m now the proud owner of suspenders and a belt, thanks to my publisher, Rick Rogers.

I suppose Rick didn’t think an editor should be caught with his pants down, no matter if he was wearing new underwear.

John Ford is managing editor of the Daily News and is enjoying his new suspenders and belt. He follows the advice of his mother, who told him to always wear clean underwear, “just in case.”