Security Baton

My batons were among the many items Julie stragetically stuffed into my three suitcases for the move to New York City. I didn't have any reason in bringing them really; I had and still have no desire to be a spectacle by twirling in Central Park as so many people have suggested I do. I suppose I just wanted the batons to come along for the ride since they've been with me for most of my life anyway. And the thought did cross my mind that if couldn't find any new friends once I got to New York, at least I would have my trusty old batons - my grown-up security blankets.

Sadly, the main action they've seen over the last year is the inside of a closet; there was a trip back home for Alabama Homecoming, and a few struts around Jane's apartment to show off for guests. But that's a far cry from the starring role they played in years past when a baton might as well have been a permanent extension of my arm. In high school, Daddy yelled for me to "put the baton down!" when projects he asked me to do around the house were hindered by a baton in hand; I twirled so much in the kitchen that I finally mastered a very low two-turn - and never broke the big deck windows trying! In college, I usually had a baton in my hand while I studied in my dorm room, absently twirling it through my fingers.

Now that my twirling is limited to day dreams and memories, I have found a new use for the old gals...

Not only useful as a window prop, but when I go to sleep with my window open, I lay a baton on each side of me to deliver a swift whack in the face in the (unlikely) event someone tries to come in my window through the fire escape! The batons' new use may be far less glamorous than the twirling of the glory days, but they are certainly still the extension of my arm, my lifeline, my security batons!