Mom's pike

Friends occasionally ask about the metal pike hanging on a wall in the den - "Is there a story behind this?"  

There certainly is.

That thin, sturdy shaft of metal with a leather handle hanging from the top & a SHARP tip on the bottom was Mom's walking pike.  For many years, from her late 60s into her mid-70s, Mom made dinner every week night for "Aunt" Benita Acton Odhner.  Five days a week, at around 4:30 p.m., winter-spring-summer-fall, fair weather or foul, she'd head out from our home on Woodland Road, head down to Fettersmill, cut through Ken Synnestvedt's woods to Alden Road, then up to the steep Black Path which took her to South Avenue, then cut over to "Aunt" Benita's house on Alnwick.  In the sweet days of May, the swelter of July, the glorious colors of October, the icy grip of January, Mom made the trek.  On foot.

I didn't get home from work until after 5:30, so hoofing it was her only option.  Some people - maybe most - would have been daunted by the prospect, especially a woman well into her "golden" years, but not my mother.  She was needed was all that mattered.  

"Aunt" Benita cherished Mom for more than her delicious cooking.  Mom was a wonderful conversationalist & she loved our local & church history, so she was much-appreciated company for the older woman, restricted to her bed due to severe osteoporosis.  The range of topics on which Mom was conversant was downright legendary & her ability to discuss matters of town & religion were broad & deep.  I always felt sorry for "Aunt" Benita when she had to make due with my cooking & company - as she herself put it, "Elsa is no Kay."

But back to the pike.  On icy days, Mom took it with her to safely navigate the patches of ice that spread between our snug home one Woodland to Odhner's on Alnwick.  Two cozy homes, with a long stretch of danger in between.  And there was Mom, sturdy boots on her feet, warm coat & mittens on her hand, and her trusty pike in her grip.

Mom's pike is my reminder of what can be done when we set our mind & heart to it.  When I get discouraged by stuff or tempted to think "too much bother," one look at that trusty pike reminds me of the example set by a unique role model.  

I've handed down a lot of Mom's most precious treasures - broaches, lockets, necklaces - to younger loved ones, but that pike will stay with me to the end of my days.  It's very much on my mind as I lace up my own sturdy boots & start my own climb toward helping olders who need my unique whatevers.  

"Aunt" Benita was right - "Elsa is no Kay."  But with Mom's example before me & her pike ever in view, I'm on my own journey to be as much ME as possible.