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A picture of a stick

I was looking through some old photos last night and stumbled upon a photo of my stick as he waved goodbye on his journey into bigger and better things. 
8XvfUaP.jpg

 
His name was Bruce, but I think he has changed it since he was with me. He was a good boy, I hope he is doing well for himself now. All this talk of sticks makes me want to get another one. No stick will ever replace Bruce....... :(
 
SR.
 
Shorerider said:
I was looking through some old photos last night and stumbled upon a photo of my stick as he waved goodbye on his journey into bigger and better things. 
8XvfUaP.jpg

 
His name was Bruce, but I think he has changed it since he was with me. He was a good boy, I hope he is doing well for himself now. All this talk of sticks makes me want to get another one. No stick will ever replace Bruce....... :(
 
SR.
Click to expand...
 
I know Bruce, he is doing good now. He said you were holding him back in life that's why he left.
 
[SIZE=12pt]A “stick.” Indeed, that takes me back many years to my childhood. I grew up a poor country boy, I recall we ate from the garden out of necessity. One year, my dad was between jobs and we rarely ever had any meat to eat. I remember on more than one occasion my dad would save a large gristle from a piece of meat. He would tie a piece of string to it, let me chew on it and swallow it until I felt “full” and then pull it out and let my little brother have it for a while. Tough times… But I digress.[/SIZE]
 
[SIZE=12pt]We didn’t have many store-bought toys. But we did have plenty of sticks. I found one such stick where a vine had grown around, causing a spiral around it. It was a great stick. It served many purposes. Some days it was a “rifle.” Other days it was a “sword.” Sometimes it became a “double edged sword” when I cracked my little brother’s knuckles in a swordfight. He would wail and then came the as* whooping from my dad using the very same stick…. In a fit of post as* whooping rage, I broke that stick in half and chucked it back to the woods from whence it came.[/SIZE]
 
[SIZE=12pt]Later, I found another stick. Watching Kung Fu (with David Carradine) on TV, the stick became a magical “Bo Staff.” Not being the keen martial artist as I, my little brother suffered the same fate as described before and the “staff” again became an instrument of penal application, thus returned in pieces to its place of origin.[/SIZE]
 
[SIZE=12pt]Later, having seen the great movie “Star Wars” yet another stick was procured. The stick had traveled through time to become a “light sabre.” “Light sabre” fights are not much different with wooden sticks than sword fights with wooden sticks. So, my childhood saga with this stick ended the same as all the others.[/SIZE]
 
[SIZE=12pt]Now many years have passed. I am an adult.  As life’s road takes many twists and turns, this one for me has remained constant. In my vocation, I have always carried a “stick” of sorts amongst my complement of tools. Now it is called a “collapsible baton.” But my memory of old rings true still today – when a “stick” is involved, somebody is going to get their as* whooped….[/SIZE]
 
:cheers:
 
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