There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile
He found crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse
And they all lived together in a crooked little house
As it is with almost every nursery rhyme, this one has a legend surrounding its background. Its origin was purportedly based on political events in British history from the 1600 – 1700s. The sixpence coin from that era was made from very thin silver and you could bend it easily. One that was bent could be called “crooked”.
The definition of the word “stile” is not generally known to most city folk, particularly now days. The structures are found quite often on farmland where fences interfere with access to different parts of the property. Having a stile allows people to easily cross through or over fences without needing to open a gate (and potentially let livestock out). A couple kinds are shown in the picture. The one on the left is a rather ingenious type that is shown open. You would push the end blocks down on the left side to bring up the crossbars and complete the closure of the fencing. Certain stiles built with steps at a 90-degree angle to the fence, or ones like the “clapper” style on the left might be called “crooked,” I suppose.
A more familiar usage of the term is the word “turnstile”, although the setting for those devices is much different than that of a pastoral countryside!
What got me thinking about this particular poem was the fact that my back has been getting worse for many years. A few years ago, the doctor did some X-rays and found that there were three things around the base of my spine that were causing pain. For some reason they all start with an S – spondylitis, scoliosis and sacroiliitis. More recently I have also developed sciatic nerve pain.
Lately, I’ve found myself tending to walk bent over a bit in reaction to the pain in my joints. Since the side with all the hardware in my ankle is weaker, the stooping is a little lopsided. I remarked to my husband the other day that I’m becoming a “Crooked Woman”.
I hate taking pills. The fact that I can’t seem to function well without daily pain pills fills me with irritation. I refuse to take more medication to ease the pain any further. Instead, I’ve been endeavoring to use physical therapy techniques to straighten myself up. I must remember to “tuck in my gut” and watch my posture.
Going to the swimming pool regularly had been helping my physical condition and strengthened my lungs. That has not been possible during the restrictions around the COVID pandemic. Fortunately, the “puffs” that I now take daily to help with my asthma require a breathing routine. That helps strengthen my lungs while the medication calms the urge to cough.
Having to cope with a pandemic as weighed heavily on most of us. It is often hard to know if we have the symptoms. Both my husband and I experience bouts of feeling too hot or too cold. We cough, get out of breath, and feel tired quite often. Our little oscillometer gives me peace of mind about our oxygen levels though.
We are more fortunate than a lot of people. My husband is retired and I can do my work from home. Being older and with weak lungs, the family worries a lot about me going out at all.
I’m slightly introverted and have never real craved an active social life. That has turned out to be in my favor during this trying time. I do get “cabin fever” though and sometimes grumble about being at home all the time. I live at my work site. Even when not completing tasks for my job there is always work for me to do. It preys upon my mind since day and night I’m surrounded by stuff I must do and things I should do. My work is never done. Still, it is pleasant to be home where people love me. It is also nice not to have to worry much about how I look.
I’m not the type who enjoys exercise for exercise sake but have been doing some stretching sequences designed to help with the sciatica. Our clinic offered some free videos recently and I sent for one about yoga. For the new year I’ve vowed to get my life more organized. Hopefully I will be able to add some yoga exercises to the ones that seem to help my back. Maybe together they can affect my posture as well as my feeling of peace and well-being.
I am trying to not end up a crooked woman. In fact, I don’t want to be crooked in any sense of the word. Maybe a somewhat warped outlook on life and perhaps a twisted sense of humor would be OK though. Life is too short to keep everything on the straight and narrow all the time. That would be tedious, and I hate to be bored.
This account began with a silly little rhyme, but I’d like to end with more serious poetry. What follows is one of my favorite poems and seems to illustrate my life. Looking back, it seems that it has been a “long and winding road” (which just might have included a crooked mile or two). I have tried to enjoy the journey but have a tendency to get caught up in reflecting on troubles.
It is all too easy to just trudge along through our days without pausing to look up at the stars or stopping to smell the fragrance of roses. On the other hand, indulging in frivolous pursuits too much of the time is also a mistake. We need to seek balance and these verses usually will steady me and help me cope.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
At times, I’ve been tired and discouraged, but then remember the last few lines, “I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep.” It comforts me and fills me with renewed determination to soldier on.