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I started using a white cane to get around 20 or so years ago, but I didn’t always carry a back-up. Canes can break or bend beyond salvation in the middle of a journey, leaving you in a lot of trouble. But I have some, if you will, good news. If your cane breaks, and you don’t have another, there is always one last hope: an encounter with Jesus. Yes, today I will be testifying to the mercy Jesus showed me in a moment of need. Come and see.
I got my first cane during my freshmen year of college. My vision, already quite low, had finally deteriorated to the point where I needed one. Or really, to the point where I was forced to admit I needed one because it was only a matter of time before I bumped into the wrong guy and got punched. A sighted instructor from a local nonprofit came to campus and trained me on how to use a cane, giving me one that was rather heavy and about four feet long. It was made of a material that did not easily break, but over time it bent, usually at the bottom. I reordered whenever the current one started to resemble a hockey stick.
I later learned that the National Federation of the Blind (NFB) recommends canes be much longer. They should reach your nose if you stand them up straight. I’m 6’2”, so my nose is considerably higher than four feet off the ground. The NFB’s advice is usually worth heeding because, sadly, it’s one of the few blindness organizations in the world actually run by blind people. For reasons I can’t honestly explain, I didn’t just switch to the advised length. Instead, I’ve purchased a series of incrementally longer canes, inching toward the NFB’s recommendation. I’ve found, unsurprisingly, that I feel more safe and confident walking around as the cane extends.
Quick note. If you’re chuckling to yourself as I go on about how confident I’ve become as my “cane” has gotten longer, you should know you are the first sighted person to ever think of this joke. I have discussed canes with friends for many years, and not a single one has had this stroke of brilliance. It’s not tiresome. You are a one-of-a-kind comedic genius. Drop everything and move to Los Angeles. Hollywood is surely your destiny.
Anyway, as my cane lengthened, it also became heavier, making it more difficult to hold—stop laughing.
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