Granddad's Cane

When my Granddad passed away in August of 1969, no mention was made of his woodworking abilities. From time to time, in family conversations, it was brought up, but no one really expounded on the subject. Then, in 1988 my brother developed MLS (Lou Gerhig's Disease) and needed to use a cane to walk. It was then that we began to contemplate Granddad's work. Oddly enough these contemplations began with Granddad's Cane.

From my earliest memories, I can draw upon pictures of Granddad in his woodworking shop. It was there that he made the pretty plaques and picture frames. People from all over would stop and browse in his little shop on Mockingbird Hill, and most would buy some trinket or knick-knack, as Granddad called them.

I can still recall Granddad making his famous moon and stars wall decorations. He would start with a 3' by 4' piece of board and gradually cut out all of the intricate details. He would first cut out a quarter moon, very meticulously and very precisely. Every one was exactly the same size, but I can't recall ever seeing him use a pattern. The five stars came next, followed by the tiny shelves and the stairway with its long banister. Each piece was cut from memory, and a lot of love was painstakingly applied to every one of them.

When all of the individual parts were cut out, Granddad would begin to assemble them. I would watch in amazement as each tiny drop of glue was applied, or as he hammered in the minuscule nails. It seemed, at the time, that each gesture held a significant meaning to Granddad. The amazement grew as the stairs developed one at a time, reaching always toward the stars.

It was these memories that came crowding back to me when I first saw my brother using that old cane. I could remember so well sitting at Granddad's knee while he carved that cane. The long shaft was a hickory limb that he had cut while we were on fishing trip along the Sabine River in East Texas. The handle was another piece of that limb, but it was the head of the cane that really stood out.

That cane had been in my closet, at my Mother's house for almost twenty years, and I had never realized how unique it was. I didn't think as a child, watching Granddad whittle and toil with infinite care over that odd looking head, that he was creating something that would become a treasured memento long after he was gone. This cane that he used until his death would be used by my Father after he was injured and until he also died. Then, when my brother was facing his own demise, it became his staff to lean on.

Granddad started making his can in 1967 when I was 10 years old. He always told me that someday the cane would be mine. Every detail that he put on the cane was applied with a small story for me. The shaft lead up to a man's upper body dressed in a suit coat with glass buttons, that Granddad claimed was his Preacher's coat (Granddad was a Methodist minister). At that point came the neck and head of a man that Granddad called Preacher Sam.

It wasn't until I saw my brother using this old cane that I realized what Granddad had created. Like van Gogh and so many great artists before him, my Granddad had created a self-portrait that would last for generations. The head of Preacher Sam was none other than Granddad, but it took twenty years for anyone to realize it.