Day Two-Hundred-Thirteen, Homecoming

Find me in my tent some small distance east of Crestview, Florida.  In amongst the pines and palmettos.  The Panhandle's made of sand.  It smells like springtime.  It smells like Japan.  It's raining and my windows are open.

I did not leave the Knightens' until two o'clock.  It may well have been two-thirty.  Before I found the courage to strap on my pack and head back out on the road.  And to say my goodbyes.  That's never fun.  I kept it as brief as I could.  I am in their debt.  They must realise that.  I'll get them back one of these days.

I am not sure the long rest did me much good.  The bones in my feet are all crunchy.  I probably gained eight or ten pounds.  I never did get much sleep.  But that will all take care of itself.  I am happy to be walking again.  I haven't got far yet to go.  Florida is much bigger than it looks on a map, but it does not intimidate me.

I will lighten my pack when I turn right and start heading south again.  I am carrying an extra five or more pounds of wooly cold weather gear.  I've been winter camping since I hit Iowa.  It is nice to be warm once again.  There will be one or two more cold days, but nothing like I faced before.  It's a stroll from here.  Alligators be damned.  Let them be afraid of me.

It is, as I said, raining some now.  It is meant to rain hard all night long.  But I'll be dry enough, if not perfectly so.  It ought to clear up in the morning.  The weather here is Hobbity.  It is always fairly humid.  There are eerie fogs and violent rains.  It is warm overall.  Magical, if it pleases you.  An odd kind of paradise.

I'll be less generous when I get rained on.  My opinions can change.  It is storming abroad but I'm warm in my tent.  It nice to be home again.  It might smell like tom cat but I don't mind.  Home is a matter of heart.

Tomorrow I'll put in an honest day.  I've got Christmas cookies to chew on.  And a penguin mascot and half a ton of the very finest fruit cake.  I don't know what to expect from the road before me.  I did glance at the map some time back.  But it doesn't matter.  I'm headed east.  Sooner or later I'll stop.

Goodnight, everyone.  Dream well.

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Day Two-Hundred-Twelve, Figgy Pudding

It is Christmas.  I'm eating Christmas cookies.  I'm packing my bags to go.  It's the least I can do for my dear friends the Knightens.  I've been here for more than a week.

Leave them wanting more, I say.  I think my timing is good.  They haven't started hating me yet.  No one has asked me to go.  But they've got to be thinking it.  They are nice people but a little James goes a long way.

I had every intention of spending Christmas alone.  I rather hoped it would rain.  And that I'd go hungry, perhaps suffer a fall.  I wanted the poetry.  I wanted to feel sorry for myself.  I wanted the martyrdom.  Sadness can be beautiful.  Cookies are good too.

There are Christmas trees with green frosting and sprinkles and baby pecan pies.  And two kinds of fudge and the little round cookies my own mother always makes.  And there's a tree and there's Christmas music.  I played football with the kids.  It was nice.  I was happy to be here.  Thank you, Dennis and Ronne.

They even gave me presents.  Ronne gave me new socks.  I love them.  How very thoughtful.  Dennis gave me a fruitcake that weighs almost nineteen pounds.  But I'll have the last laugh.  I'm going to eat it.  I'm going to like it, too.

I should have made better use of the downtime.  I should have updated my route map.   Or written a play, The Littlest Hobo, or kept my blog up-to-date.  Instead I got fat and played Internet scrabble.  "Neener" is not a word.  Not yet.  It will be.  I did spend time in church.  I know a lot of you were wishing I would.

I don't expect it to take.  That's just me.  I wish you well with your own Salvation.  It's been good of the Knightens to put up with me, heretic though I may be.  They are strong in their faith.  My demonic influence will not likely leave lasting harm.  But they'd have been justified in casting me out.  I am the turd in the pool.

They pray a lot, the Knightens do.  I'm an affront to God.  I never caught them praying for me, but I'm pretty sure they did.  Can't hurt.  I need all the help I can get.  This is not a hard walk.  But I'm getting lazy in my old age.  I've never been too energetic.

But I do have to walk.  I do not have any idea what's ahead.  Gators and snakes and poisonous toads.  Overzealous law enforcement.  I've lost my rhythm.  I'll be awkward out there.  It will take me two days to discover my stride.  But I'll figure it out.  I always do.

Until then, let me take this opportunity to wish you all a very merry Christmas.  I'd be lost without you.  I should have sent cards.  I guess you know who you are.  You let me sleep on your sofa.  You bought me breakfast.  You let me play with your dog.  You were kind when I most needed it.  You read what I wrote.  You laughed at my jokes.  You made Walking Across America fun.

Merry Christmas.

Day Two-Hundred-Eight and Two-Hundred-Nine and Two-Hundred-Ten and Two-Hundred-Eleven, Christmas Eve

Are you still at the Knightens?
Yes, I am.

Why don't you leave them alone?
I will.  Eventually.  I want to give them the full dose.

The "full dose"?
A full dose of James. 

When do you think you'll get back on the road?
I was thinking about Christmas Day.

Or the day after that?
Or the day after that.

You'd better not stay too much longer.
I won't.  I'll start walking again.  It is what I do.  It defines me.

You must be out of shape by now.
I was never in great shape.

Can you still walk?
Probably.

Can you still carry a pack?
I guess.  I guess I have to.

What about sleeping outdoors?
You get used to it.  Outlaw camping is hard.  My tent never goes up quite where it belongs.  I'll have to relearn my hobo skills.

What are these hobo skills you're always bragging about?
Oh, my friend, there are many.  I do not know how to find food in a dumpster.  I've tended to specialise.  My gift is for finding places to camp, invisible but in plain sight.  Where never you would expect to find a tent.  Right underneath the Man's nose.

"The Man"?
Johnny Law.  Broderick Crawford.  The Sheriff.  The State Patrol.

Why do they care where you set up your tent?
I don't know that they do.  But I would just as soon not antagonise them.  They aren't always kind to hobos.

But you're not a hobo.
Not exactly.  I am homeless.  Ask the Knightens if you don't believe me.  The cops might be right to run me off, to slash my pack and drive me to the state line.

In order to protect property values?
In order to protect property values.

That ought to keep you up on your toes.
There are also great crocodiles.  And rock pythons and man-eating spiders and big old poisonous toads.  Walking across Florida won't be easy. 

Is that why you're dragging your feet?
Not consciously, at any rate.  I am trying to fix my computer.

What do you need a computer for?  Look at Juan Ponce de León.
Who's that?

He was a Spanish explorer.  He marched all over Florida back when it was just swamps.
And he survived?

Well, no.  He was felled by a poison dart.
Do you think that might happen to me?

You are more likely to get shot. 
Who would want to shoot me?

I don't know.  All kinds of people.  Your neuroses are not always cute.
Some of them are.

Some of them, sure.  But you're 42.  It's time you had life figured out.
I'm doing my best.

That's what makes it so sad.  Most people know without trying.
Do they?

Well, not really.  I'm sorry I brought it up.
That's fine.

Days Two-Hundred-Seven, Frequently Asked Questions

Won't you introduce yourself.
Certainly!  I am James Harry Pierce.  I am delighted to meet all of you.  Gosh, what a good looking crowd.

Thank you.
The pleasure is mine.

What are you doing out here?
I am Walking Across America.

Why?
I thought it might be fun. 

Is it?
Pretty fun, I guess.  It has been an adventure.  For a while I had stomach muscles.  You can't see them any more.

Oh, what happened to them?
I have not been walking.  I am putting on weight.  I am stranded in Crestview, Florida. 

Gosh!  That must be awful!
Not, really.  It's not so bad.  The Knightens have been awfully kind.  They have pie and a Christmas tree.   Ronne has been baking cookies.

Why do they put up with you?
I don't know.  They are my friends.  I guess they're just really nice people. 

You've been there a week.  It's not a big house.  They must be getting sick of you. 
I try not to take up too much space.  I'm hoping they'll forget I'm here.  But I do weigh close to 200-pounds.  I worry that I'm in the way.

Of course you're in the way, idiot.  Why don't you get back on the road?
I'm still waiting for my new computer.

How far have you come?
I don't know.  Maybe three-thousand miles.  

Where and when did you start?
In Seattle.  Tacoma, in fact.  At the very end of May. 

And where are you headed?
I don't know.

And what will you do when you get there?
I'll meet a nice girl.  We'll settle down.  We'll have a couple of kids. 

Who'd marry you?
I don't know.  Someone special.  I have not met her yet.

And if you don't find her? 
I'll keep on looking.

Don't you have a job to get back to?  I thought you were on sabbatical.
I don't even know what that means.

Get a job.
Doing what?

How the hell am I supposed to know?
You're right.  Thanks, though, for trying.

What are you, some kind of moron?
Call me a foolish optimist. You're not going to hurt my feelings.  I'm all about Positive Energy.  I'm just here for the hugs.

You'd better not try to hug me, weirdo. I'll punch you on your nose.

Day Two-Hundred-Six, Manifesto

I am not Kwai Chang Caine.  Far too few of us are.  He was a walker, just like me.  I don't know how he passed the time.  He'd blow on his flute.  He'd meditate.  He'd be at one with the Whole.  I can't do that.  Different backgrounds.  I walk a different way.

I don't meditate.  I don't know how.  I'll zone once in a while.  Just kind of fade out, get lost in my thoughts.  Sometimes I hear good rock and roll.  Sometimes I sing.  I do little dances when there are no cars around.  I see beauty in nature.  That's nothing new.  It has been there all along.

I might walk to discover America, but I've always known it was there.  I've met some new states, but few surprises.  America is not exotic.  Not to me.  I was born and raised here.  I've seen most of it on TV.

I might walk to encounter Interesting People.  There have been one or two.  But I don't have much time to bond with them.  I'm the one Just Passing Through. 

Kwai Chang Caine helped people in need.  Kwai Chang Caine stuck around.  Just long enough to see justice done.  He kicked people in the head.  And then he moved on.  Humbly.  The world a better place.

I like that idea.  Helping people.  Moving from town to town.  Leaving a trail of broken hearts.  Justice my one true love.  But it hasn't come up.  No one's asked me for help.  Mostly people help me.  And I don't know kung-fu.  I'm not a fighter.  I don't know what use I would be.

And I haven't broken any hearts.  I have left something of a trail.  With bits and pieces of my own heart.  Just like Hansel and Gretel.  To find my way home.  Or somewhere as good.  I suspect they've been eaten by crows.

Kwai Chang Caine too dispensed wisdom.  I think I've done some of that.  And I've got plenty more if you'd care to hear it.  One hates to overdo that sort of thing.  There a danger of appearing pompous.  My humility is strong but it's thin.

I've had no real epiphanies.  I have discovered very few truths.  But I did not start this walk wholly ignorant.  I have lived on this planet before.  I've seen mountains and prairies.  I have seen the sun set.  I know what the sea smells like.  I have been across the Rockies dozens of times.  I have lived in Iowa.

None of this is new to me.  All that has changed is the walking.  It's a different perspective but not vastly so.  Your old life in super slow motion.  I've had time to reflect.  I've learned a few things.  I've decided to be more cheerful.  I've had blisters and I've had to poop.  That's all part of the ride.

I've had problems with my Samsung computer.  Which, by the way, sucks.  They have me in a post-modernist hell, where I blog about my means of blogging.  What if Shakespeare had stopped every few lines to bemoan the state of his quill.

Now I ain't Shakespeare.  Not even close.  I've got to be at least a head taller.  With more rugged features and a much better build.  I have luxuriant hair.  And he was a bit more prolific; he just churned it out.  We have one or two things in common.  But nothing that would reflect well on either of us.  It's best to let sleeping dogs lie.

There've been others before me.  Garfunkel walked.  He is something of a poet.  Gandhi walked for Social Justice.  This walk might make you think of God.  Or greatness.  Or goodness.  Or something profound.  I think about sandwiches.

But I do not do it artlessly.  I'm entertaining if nothing else.  I might see the world from a low angle but I see it clearly enough. 

I am Walking Across America.  It's easier than you think.  You could do it if you wanted to.  Don't worry about the specifics.  They work themselves out, sooner or later.  Invest in some very nice socks.

Are you in good physical condition?  Do you always see the bright side?  Do you adapt well to new situations?  Are you good at making new friends?  Are you determined, organised?  Do you work and play well with others?  Can you find poetry in a pile of dung?  Are you at one with the universe?  Do you like sleeping in a tent?

Then you don't need to Walk Across America.  You'd be silly to waste the time.  And the money.  And your deep sense of self.  I have no doubt that it was hard won.  Save the walking for those of us that do not have the first clue.  And are prepared to admit it.  And will never pretend to have discovered anything new.

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.

Day Two-Hundred-Three, Gentle Captivity

Only those rare natures that are made up of pluck, endurance, devotion to duty for duty's sake, and invincible determination, may hope to venture upon so tremendous an enterprise as the keeping of a journal and not sustain a shameful defeat.

Or so said Mark Twain. He favored white suits. His hair was often untidy. None of his books were very good. He was once my favorite writer.

I'm locked in place. I cannot go anywhere. I am at the mercy, such as it is, of the Samsung Corporation. And their Verizon minions. And Federal Express. This is their holiday season.

So I can but hope they make time for me. It would make a good Christmas story. Alone and cold. In Florida. Bound by a soulless corporation. The Littlest Hobo. It might make you cry, but there'll be a laugh or two. It will change your life. You will be made whole. In the filmed version I'll play myself.

I remain installed at the Knightens. They have been awfully kind. And are doing their best to keep me well fed. I would just as soon be walking. And less of a nuisance to anyone. I'm not really fit for polite company. My clothes are dirty. My manner is coarse. I am given to ungodly oaths. I pee a lot. I keep odd hours. I have a peculiar smell.

I don't know how very long I'll be here. It will be a few days more yet. Then I'll be ready to finish my trip. I've been dragging my feet since Kentucky. That's when my computer went south. It upset my rhythm. It has slowed my steps. I have to get the thing fixed.

Or die trying.

When this tree falls, it will make a sound.   My light won't hide under a bushel.   I've got adventures to publicise.  I've got people along for the ride.  I've got gators to wrassle and snakes to braid.  I've still got miles to go. It's drama you want.  You're not paying me to sit around.

But sit I do.  Bear with me.  I'm doing what little I can.