The Little Old Man and the Magic Stick

A long time ago, in a far away place there lived a little old man in a little old house. He lived with a little old dog in that little old house. This little old house was so neat and tidy, clean and fresh that whenever people came to call, they always commented on the wonder of it all. Around his house was the most beautiful garden one might ever see with the most beautiful flowers and the most beautiful fragrances.

Children would come and play all the time in this garden. Whenever they were there, the little old man was content.

The little old man was no ordinary old man. Although he was old and bent and his knuckles were gnarled, he was a very powerful man. For he had a very special gift, he did. What do you think he had? The little old man had a magic stick.

Do you believe in magic? I believe in magic. So let me tell you a bit about this magic stick. The little old man had received this magic stick from his father who had received it from his father, who got it from his father, to whom it was given by his father. This special magic stick went back so far that nobody in the family could remember where it came from. But it was, nonetheless, magic.

And what could this magic stick do, you might ask. Well, this magic stick was a very special thing. For if the little old man waved it over the head of a sick person and said some special words, the sick person would be better! If a person had a broken heart, they could go to the man and it would be healed. Those dying and in pain could finally rest peacefully if the little old man and his stick came calling.

This little old man was a very busy man. For he was the village healer. Everyone would come to him with his or her problems. They would listen to his words and feel better. They would accept his magic stick and be healed. Yes, the little old man was a very important man in the town, but if you didn't know this, you would never guess because he was such a tiny, little, quiet, ordinary-looking old man.

Over the years, the little old man healed many people. So many in fact that he had volumes and volumes of records of people's names. People would come from far and wide upon hearing and seeing the healing magic he performed. No one ever thought to ask if it was good or bad magic because all he ever did was good with his magic stick.

One day, a very sick lady came knocking at the old man's door. She desperately needed his help because she was very sick. The man brought her to the garden (the most peaceful place of all), sat her down and massaged her sore, blistered, broken feet. She had walked a long way; so long in fact that her shoes had fallen apart and she was forced to continue her journey barefoot!

The little old man asked the very sick woman to wait for a moment while he went and fetched his magic stick. He walked over to the house and through the door. Upon reaching the resting-place of his magic stick he noticed that it was not there! "That's strange," he said to himself. "I am certain that I put it back there. Hmm. . . I must be getting forgetful in my old age. I'll have to look around." So away he went, searching. From space to space, room to room. But the stick was nowhere in sight.

Well, the little old man, as you could well imagine, began to panic! He ran from room to room, tearing apart everything looking for his magic stick. Look as he might, he could not find it. It was lost!

Wrought and distressed the man returned to the very sick lady and told her that he was so sorry but he could not heal her today. She wondered why, after having come from so far. However, as everyone believed the little old man so completely, she didn't ask any questions.

After the sick lady left, even sicker than before, the little old man went into his little old house and sat down on the little old rocking chair in the corner. "Think, think, think," he said to himself. "I must have left it somewhere, but where?" Yet think as hard as he might, he could only remember putting the magic stick in its special place.

So he sat and thought. He thought and thought and tried to remember. And all the while, he went deeper into a gloom and depression. He neglected his beautiful garden. He neglected his little old house. He even neglected his little old dog and himself! He was so sad, and so depressed that he became quite ill, and old beyond his years.

The little old man changed. The children stopped coming because he would yell at them and scare them away. The sick people stopped coming because he would yell at them and tell them he couldn't help them. The friends and people that grew up around him stopped coming because he would not answer their calls.

Deeper into his gloom he went. Sicker and sicker he became until he was but a shadow of his former self. He no longer knew who he was.

Well, one day, his poor little old doggy just up and died of sadness and a broken heart. He was so hungry, sad, and so very tired that he couldn't even get up to say goodbye to his master, the little old man. He just died, lying there. And there he lay because the little old man could no longer see, could no longer move, could no longer help his loyal friend. He was so sick that he just didn't know anything anymore.

One sunny afternoon a young man came to the sick old man's house. He said to himself, "My, what a shame. I remember that this garden used to be so beautiful. I played here when I was very young. I wonder what is wrong with the little old man? Maybe I should go and see!"

So he went to the door and he knocked. No answer. He knocked again. And again, silence was the only greeting he received. He gently pushed open the door to call out. Suddenly the stench of decay from inside the house filled his head so completely that he staggered back! The young man gathered his courage and looked deep into the black, gloomy darkness.

Many years ago as a child, the young man had been brought to the little old man by his parents, carried in a sling over their shoulders. He could not walk. He was crippled and in pain all the time. His feet had been twisted and useless from birth. But the little old man took the boy into his garden and with such loving, gently caressed and cleaned his feet. Then he took his magic stick, waved it over the boy's feet, saying the most magical wonderful words the little boy had ever heard in his entire life. And suddenly the boy no longer felt pain! He could stand! He tried to walk and he could! He could even run! So he ran and ran and ran through the beautiful garden, laughing and laughing. His parents cried to see the miracle. This, the young man remembered as he looked in at the sick old man.

"What do you want?" growled a voice from the corner. "Go away! Get away from here! I can't help you any more! You people keep coming to me for help. Just leave me in peace! I am tired and I want to die. I am no good any more. I cannot help you.

The young man gently backed out of the house and closed the door behind him. And as he was walking away with a heavy heart, he recalled that the old man had lost his magic stick many years ago. He thought to himself, "I wonder what I can do to help? Many years ago he saved me. Now I must save him. It is the price I owe him for my life."

Away he went for a walk, deep into the forest, thinking all the time. After a while he sat down on a rock to take a stone out of his shoes. He had walked a long way but still could not think of anything to help the little old man. "But I must! I must help him."

As he was sitting and thinking, he noticed that some of the branches of the trees around him had been broken off from a storm a long time ago. They were old, and gray and round; worn smooth from the time. At that moment the young man had an incredible thought! "It might not work, but I have to try."

"I will take this stick to the little old man and tell him that I found his magic stick in the forest! He will be so happy that he will immediately forget his pain and get up and walk."

So he did just that. He took the ordinary non-magical stick back to the little old man's little, very old house and he went inside.

"What do you want? I said GO AWAY!" the old man had tears in his blind old eyes.

"Little old man, do you remember me? Many years ago my parents brought me here as a child. I was crippled and could not walk. You healed me. You made me whole again so I could run through your gardens and play with all the other children. I grew up strong and healthy thanks to you and your magic stick. I have never again been sick a day in my life," said the young man to the very old man.

"Well, those days are long gone. I lost my magic stick many years ago. I have no power any more. Look at me: I am blind, I cannot walk, I cannot even stand. I am sick. I just want to die alone. Can't you leave me alone?" he asked, almost imploringly.

There was great heaviness in the heart of the young man to see the little old man in such terrible pain and loneliness.

"Little old man, today I went for a very long walk, deep into the forest. I needed to think. When I sat down on a rock to rest, I noticed a stick lying at my feet. I picked it up and it felt warm and very comfortable, almost as if I had known this stick some time in my past. And then I remembered you standing over me with your magic stick, healing me. I have never forgotten that day, or you, or your magic stick. I am certain that this is your magic stick. Here, feel it, touch it, and let it speak to you. If it is your magic stick, it will let you know. You will know." The young man said this with as much honesty and love he could muster. For if he failed now, he knew that his entire plan would fail. And likely it would be the death of the little old man.

"Give me the stick.” said the old man. He took it in his gnarled, old fingers and held it for a moment. "It feels warm. It feels familiar. Yes, there might be something there. Wait, I can hear a voice! Yes! It is the voice that I heard so many years ago in my youth when I used to pick this stick up and play with it as a child! My son, you have found it! You have found my magic stick! Oh, blessed be, thank you! Thank you, thank you!"

Unstoppable tears flowed from the old man's eyes, and too, from those of the young man.

The old man got off his rocking chair and stood. "See, look, I am standing! And now I can see! And the pain in my body is gone! Yes, oh magic stick of mine, thank you so much for returning to me! I now know that all these years you have been testing me to see if I was really worthy of you! Even though I am sure I failed you, you have given me a second chance. Well, I will never again fail you. Never again! Until the very last day I die, I will serve you faithfully."

Then the little old man, who was once again himself after all long years, looked down at his feet and saw that his faithful, little old dog had passed away. How terrible he felt! He cried and cried until he could cry no more.

"I will take you and give you the best resting spot in the entire world, my faithful friend, " he spoke lovingly to his dog.

He took the little old dog out to under the old oak tree that had been there for centuries. And he gave his old friend the best burial a friend could ever have.

Then, without even taking time to eat, or clean, or even to put on his shoes, away he trotted to the village, with an energy that a man fifty years younger would envy. He went from door to door, healing the sick, making happy the unhappy, peacefully putting to rest the dying. He did not stop when the sun went down. No. He continued into the night and on into the next morning and on and on until not a single sick person was left in the entire village. Then off he went to the next village, and performed the same miracles. And on to the next and the next until everyone in the land knew that the little old man with the magic stick was back.

One day, quite a few years later, a man came knocking at the door of the house of the very old man. This was the same man who, as a child had been healed by the magic stick. He had a wife and a beautiful daughter and was very happy. He brought his daughter to introduce to the little old man.

But no one answered his knock. "That's strange," he thought. "I wonder where he could be?" And as he was about to leave, his foot accidentally pushed the door open. "Very strange indeed. Hmm. . . "

So he went in. The man recalled a time many years earlier when a similar thing happened. "Hello? Little old man, are you here?" he called. No answer. "Hello? Is anybody home?" Yet no answer. The man walked in further and looked around. The home was bright, clean, fresh. There were even fresh cut flowers in the vase by the window. "I wonder where he could have gone?"

"Daddy, come here, " said the man's little girl. "What is it honey?" He walked over to a room in the corner.

Lying on the bed, with his stick by his side was the little old man, peacefully at rest after all those years. He was smiling. He was gone.

A tear came into the man's eye as he said to his daughter, "Child, this is the most important man in the entire world. When I was your age, I was very sick. I could not walk, I could not play with the other children. But this man healed me and made me well. And thanks to him, I have you." And he scooped her up and hugged her as hard as he could. "Daddy! Not so hard!"

The man knew he had one more duty to perform.

When everything was prepared, he laid the body of the little old man in a plot next to the old oak tree where many years ago the old man's loyal dog had been laid to rest. "Now you two can be together again, after so many years apart. Rest in peace, my friend. You deserve it." And he placed the plain old stick (which really wasn't magic after all) with the little old man. He covered him up and let him sleep. "Farewell my old friend. You have worked far harder, suffered far more than any man ever should. I will miss you."

And the man and his daughter walked away.

The little old house is gone now but that old oak tree is still standing, taller and healthier than ever. The children come and play in the branches. If they fall, they are not hurt. Lovers come and read poetry to each other under the boughs, feeling intense feelings for one another. The hot and tired experience amazing cooling breezes in the sweltering summer heat. And they feel good. Old friends come to sit under the tree and relax. The pain in their bones seems to lessen when they are there.

And another old man comes from time to time to chat with his old friend who rests under the boughs of the old oak. Many years ago as a small child this old man had been healed by a little old man who had a very big heart. He knows the truth. He knows that the power in the magic stick was that of the power in the little man himself. He knows that if you dig deeply within yourself you can find the strength, the power, and the magic to heal yourself and others. It comes from within. It comes from the heart. There is no greater power than the goodness in one's heart. From there comes all: love, health, happiness, strength. What else could one need? Yes, the old man knows all about the "magic stick". But he has never told anyone. Why should he?

Whenever the old man is asked why he never gets sick, why he is always happy and has had such a successful family life he always tells his story of the little old man and the magic stick.

Cameron Switzer
Kamishii-mura, Japan
August 27, 2000

This tale is dedicated to "M". Always remember the power and strength within yourself.