The Story of a Bad Ass Blackthorn Cane
This isn’t a story about me, although I’m kind of in it. This is a story about my cane. We’ll have to talk about me for a second to explain why it’s here, but after that it’ll be just the cane.
I’ve done a bunch of different things in the pool industry (retail, manufacturing, etc.) prior to going out on my own and opening a Swimming Pool Service Company. This I did for several years before I started having some difficulty walking. Then it progressed. Oddly, hard flat surfaces were a non issue. Inclines, declines, and soft surfaces (like a pool owner’s lawn) became torturous, so with the end in sight, I opted to sell my company. Really a shame, because I enjoyed what I did.
With my extensive background in the industry, and not quite old enough to retire, I began consulting/teaching. The benefit was two fold. It afforded me an income, which is good because I like to eat, but also created a means in which I could give back (even if only in a small way) to an industry that had been very good to me. Sadly, the difficulty in my mobility continued to progress and (at times) would be accompanied by pain. Thus, the cane.
I decided if I was going to have a cane that it would need to be a bad ass cane. I searched a bit before I came across the one I would purchase. A walking stick made from blackthorn, the hard durable wood grown wild along hedgerows in Ireland. So freaking cool that it actually came with a label of authenticity from the maker who had made sticks for Presidents Reagan, Kennedy, Clinton and Obama as well.
Not quite ready to curl up in a ball in the corner, and fearing the inevitable, I decided to push through the pain and take my bad ass blackthorn cane to see what we could see before I one day reach a point where I can not walk at all. I will turn my road blocks into speed bumps and make my weaknesses my strengths. No matter what obstacle gets in my way (physical or otherwise), I will not simply overcome it – I will find a way to kick the living 💩 out of it.
My Cane will not be my Crutch, it will be my Catalyst
Crossing Frozen Chena River, Fairbanks Alaska, – 30° F. Yes, we went in February. Insane? Maybe, but we got to see the Aurora borealis, did some dog mushing, a night of ice fishing, and caught a ride with a bushmailer up to the Iñupiat village of Anaktuvuk Pass in the Arctic circle.
Doctors may never know what is effecting my ability to walk (I have stumped the best of the best), but with so much left to see, if I reach a point I can no longer walk… I will crawl.