Days Two-Hundred-Four and Two-Hundred-Five, Peace on Earth and Mercy Mild

Saturday.  And Sunday.  In the middle of December.  I think Christmas is one week away.  I am in Florida.  With only the fainest recollection of how I got here.  I have never known why.  You make bad decisions when you're nineteen years old.  One thing leads to another.

I had occasion to review all my photos.  I uploaded them for safekeeping.  I remember a hilltop in Montana.  I do not remember where.  But I can look it up.  I've been taking notes.  It was very warm up there.  High above the Yellowstone.  I was on a dirt road.  Alone.  I ate raisins.  The sweet made me sick.  I could still see mountains.

I found some shade beside a corral.  There were ants everywhere.  I worried I might have taken a wrong turn and I was running low on water.  There were no towns.  The Interstate was somewhere beyond the next ridge.  Running parallel.  Damn it was hot.

And now I'm here in Florida.  I remember, I think, every step.  Every campsite.  Every truckstop.  Every bacon cheeseburger.  Early on I had a few beers.  Six months ago.  When I was young and yet innocent of the road.

There isn't a whole lot of science to this.  I wake up and I walk.  And eat a great deal.  Sometimes I sleep.  I'm much better at it now.  My bumbling efforts in the Cascades embarrass me terribly.  I panicked when I got east of Billings.  It was all those sun-bleached bones.  I crossed the Ohio on the wrong bridge.  I took some wrong turns in Missouri.

I didn't have the right attitude.  I was too often lacking pep.  I wish I could go back in time.  I've learned a lot since then. 

Hell, I wish I could do it all over.  I do not mean just the walk.  Give me another shot at my twenties.  Let me be nineteen again.  I'd do better this time, I would.  I would try harder.  I would settle down.  Fewer people would get hurt. 

Metaphor.  Any very long walk is a picture of Life Itself.  You are born in ignorance.  Your feet hurt a bit.  Finally you are eaten by gators.  What's it all mean?  Hell if I know.  What wisdom you get comes too late.

I do have miles yet to go.  I'll get back on the road again.  With a feeling of aimlessness I have not had for some time.  I was in Nebraska when I first heard from Dennis.  I have been pointed towards Crestview ever since.  I meant to stop by.  I thought I'd say hi.  I did not think I'd be living here.

Nor did he, I rather suspect.  Good deeds do not go unpunished.  He fed a stray dog and it followed him home.  It installed itself in his guest room.  Five minutes ago it raided his fridge.  I found pizza and pie.  The last piece of each.  I ate them both.  I am putting hospitality to the test.

Poor Knightens.  They have been kind to me.  What will become of them when I'm gone?  And where will I go?  I've lost focus.  I can feel myself getting fat.  And afraid.  It's not just gators, it's pigs.  They've also got poisonous spiders.  And outsized constrictors and God knows what else.  Florida.  Wish me luck.

Yesterday I helped put up the tree.  You see it pictured above.  It is small and lopsided.  It is covered in penguins.  It does rather warm my heart.  Today again I attended church.  That's three Sundays in a row.  I'm ready to have my sins forgiven.  I don't want to know the details.  Just let me know when it's done.  I'll take it from there.  I'll try not to let you down.

That is the thing about staying with Christians.  They're always so nice to me.  It seems the least I can do is be Born Again.  I know it would make them happy.  But I'm not feeling it.  I wish I were.  I could do with a little Salvation.  I did offer to rake their yard.  They said their yard was fine.

Church again.  In their living room.  The sermon ran a little long.  But this week we got to sing Christmas songs.  That was a lot more fun.  And I got to play football with four little kids, and four more medium-sized ones.  I am a born uncle.  Kids love me.  I am a hero to children.



"WHERE DO YOU POOP?"  An excellent question.  And this from a five-year-old boy.  There are too few of us of have what it takes to Walk Across America.