Lady with the Cane.com

PICK UP YOUR FEET. I WISH I COULD. “Left. Left. Left, right, left.” No, I’m not in the military. I’m just remembering my high school marching band days. n of my favorite band directors dubbed our lazy technique the Monongah Shuffle. We spent hours perfecting our cadence and getting our feet in the air rather than dragging our feet across the pavement. Oh, to know then what I know now. Dragging my feet has become a daily practice I would as soon leave behind. It is no longer a choice for me. It’s a standard and I HATE it. With foot drop, the toes become an unavoidable enemy. They don’t lift enough to clear the ground. Give it a try. Make sure you’re close to a table or chair or wall. You’ll need it. When I see (or hear) someone shuffling their feet, I want to scream for them to pick up their feet. Take pride, man! Lift those tootsies! I wish I could. The effort it takes some to get my toes in the air is exhausting. Foot drop is not fun. It isn’t c convenient. It is not safe. It is not m

Happy February!  In the middle of my sixth-grade year, our family moved from one end of the state to another.  Already a quiet person, my southern drawl secured my silence in lieu of classmate ridicule. After a week, I received a note passed up the row of classroom seats. Cautiously I accepted the unexpected offering. In careful cursive (what?), the note posed this question :   Do you want to be my friend? Check Yes or No. Initially, my heart swelled with joy.  Unfortunately, my suspicious mind screeched the brakes. What if this was a joke? Were the students behind me laughing awaiting my response? Before the tears could spill, I noticed the crudely drawn daisy at the top of the page. That sealed the deal for me. Daisies are my favorite flower snd I really needed a friend. Until our sophomore year in high school Vickie and I wished one another a happy first day of the month with a hand written note adorned with a pencil-sketched daisy. When teenage hormones stopped our routine in favor