I left the house and I didn't look back. I had some idea of where I was and what direction I had to go to get back to Sharon and my stuff. I wish I had my Bible. It would be nice to sit down somewhere and open it at random and see if HE would speak to me. Preferably something encouraging because I was feeling a little down. STAFF seemed like a big stupid limb and he was heavy to. Those old school Prophets must have had some serious arm strength to keep flipping all that wood out in front of them.
I kept walking and I learned that there was some skill involved in walking with a staff. It was all about rhythm and timing. That took awhile butI began to get it down and I started to like hearing the sound of STAFF hitting the pavement. I imagined I was a marcher guy like they have in the parades who lead the band. I was so in to it that I missed the old guy calling out to me. I heard his second, or maybe it was his third "Hey you!" I stopped to stare at him. I wasn't really in the mood for any more people laughing at me or just plain giving me a hard time.
"Yeah?" I yelled back.
He motioned for me to come over and when I didn't move yelled "Come here son!"
I walked across the street towards him and checked him out as I did. He looked like Morgan Freeman but older if that was possible. That made him about three days away from keeling over probably. He had been trimming his rose bushes that ran along his property line. They were nice roses once but what ever he had been doing lately wasn't working very well.
"Your roses are dying."
He looked at them and then the clippers in hand and sighed. "Yep. They were my wife's." He slipped the clippers into his back pocket. As he took off the gloves he was wearing he said "I saw your walking stick. I'm a walking stick guy myself."
"It's a staff." I told him.
He squinted his eyes, sized STAFF up, and told me "Yeah. I think you're right. It's got the thickness of one.
"You got a staff too?"
He smiled. It was a good smile. He also didn't have any ear implants, sunglasses, or a cell phone on his belt.
"Yeah. You might say that. I make them." He said this with quiet pride. "Well, actually I was a carpenter. Then I tried doing walking sticks. Sold a few and then last year they quit selling. Just like that. One day I was a busy guy, well as busy as I wanted to be, then I wasn't."