A favorite activity when I taught kindergarten, for the children and for me, was the old “Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes” motion song. I’ve had to give up the “knees and toes” segment over the last few months since my right knee has cried, “Enough!” To its credit, it has served me well.
Since I was seven years old, walking has been my exercise of choice. I started the habit when my father, who could not drive because of a depth perception vision problem, used to walk anywhere within walking distance so Mama would not have to stop what she was doing to take him. Walking distance may be an indefinite term, depending on how you see it. For Daddy, almost anywhere in the country community where he was pastor was in walking distance.
He made daily trips to the country store, that was about three quarters of a mile from our house, where his members traded and gathered to visit. I felt privileged that he allowed me to go with him “because I could keep up with him.” My seven-year-old legs got a workout, but my pride in being chosen loved the trip. I don’t think the younger sisters minded missing the athletic training. Some conversations at the store were seasonal with concerns that the planted corn crops weren’t getting enough water or wondering if there would be enough watermelons ripe in time for the Fourth of July picnics. Some were personal with news of a new baby or distress over Aunt Sallie’s bouts of rheumatism. Interspersed with community news, Daddy told stories or cracked jokes. I didn’t go to listen to the chatter, though I didn’t mind it, but for the walking with Daddy.
I think those early years keeping up with him impressed on me the joy of walking which I have practiced through the years. Memories have me walking to the beach from our apartment on Staten Island, on neighborhood strolls in Texas, down the steep hill to school in Germany – and back up in the afternoon to home, and in Louisiana walks with a neighbor before sunrise and going to work. Since I calculate “walking distance” much like Daddy, I prefer parking in the first vacant slot to driving around looking for a spot close to a building or store, but now my knee has cried, “Uncle!”
I am grateful that I live in a day, unlike Aunt Sallie’s, where there is a remedy when the x-ray technician says, “Bad osteoarthritis.” As I write this, I’m looking forward to getting a brand-new knee and renewal of my old calculation of walking distance! I write before surgery and will post when I’m able!
Addendum written June 3 - Surgery done on June 2 - sent home for rehab and healing on June 3 with pain and other medications. Now I am going from getting worse to getting better. What a nice feeling! A