LA Part 1

Many of the folks that live in Junction City saw the article in Sunday's paper, and I am thoroughly enjoying the waves, smiles, and people walking up and shaking my hand, wishing me well, or asking me a few questions about my journey. It would be nice if things were always that way. I am fully aware that as the miles pass between me and the subscription radius of the South Arkansas Sunday News, folks will go back to just staring at me with that, "What the heck is he doing?" look on their face.

Wednesday, March 15, 2000: Bernice, Louisiana

Completely out of range of the South Arkansas Sunday News, I walked into Bernice yesterday and didn't meet one person, but I did recieve several, "What the heck is he doing?" looks. I bought some more bagels and tuna, and walked south out of town three miles. I ducked into the woods around sunset and set up my tent. I am still sitting in my tent now, although it is now the following afternoon. It rained a little last night, but this morning it really started coming down at around 6:00 am, and it hasn't stopped for the past seven hours. I haven't decided what I will do about my situation today. Although there is a continuous supply of rain falling from the sky, I am completely out of drinking water, and sooner or later, raining or not raining, I am going to have to pack up and walk out of these woods for some water.

It is at times exactly like this present moment, that I would really rather be living in a house, wearing warm and dry clothes, sitting next to a crackling fire, and holding a hot bowl of soup. (I can smell the steam rising from that hot bowl of soup. It's a tomato-based vegetable.) These are the only moments that I seriously question what I am doing out here. The two things that I dislike most about weather like today is the dampness that pervades everything I have and the continuous sound of rain hitting my tent for seven hours. I begin to feel damp, claustrophobic and have a sincere desire for silence, but there is nothing I can do about it. To pack up and walk would only make things worse. The dampness would become complete water saturation (wet), and I would regret my decision in about an hour from now. However, not having any water to drink tonight makes the decision for me, and as soon as I finish this paragraph, I will emerge from my tent wearing rain gear, walk back to Bernice and see what happens. I walked past a laundr-o-mat (sometimes pronounced wash-e-teria by those who live here) three miles back, and that will probably be a good place to start.

Wednesday night, March 15, 2000: Junction City, Louisiana

I walked back to Bernice in the rain and spent some much-needed quality time at the washeteria, drying my tent, sleeping bag, and clothes. A woman who works in a store behind the washeteria called the police to see if they could come up with some shelter for me tonight, but they didn't have a place where I could stay. A very nice cop named Tim took me to the police department to watch the Weather Channel (more rain and thunderstorms for tonight and tomorrow), and I called my friend Preston in Junction City for assistance. Preston was more than happy to help me out, and tonight I am living in a house and wearing warm and dry clothes. There's no crackling fire or tomato-based vegetable, but we did have catfish and taters, and I am in the company of some very fine Loozee-ana country folk.

Thursday, March 16, 2000: Junction City, Louisiana

Preston is a good man. He is one of those guys that will bend over backwards to help someone out, and he is also one of those guys who will give someone his trust unless they give him a good reason not to. When I entered their home, Preston and his wife, Faye, told me to "make myself at home", and that particular phrase almost always sets my mind at ease and makes me instantly feel welcome.

Trust is often times the most meaningful gift that I receive from the folks that bring me into their homes and their lives for a few days. Sometimes when people invite me into their home, there is a certain amount of apprehension and fear that is completely understandable, but it makes me feel uncomfortable nonetheless. I go through this "proving myself" period of time when I try to help them to understand that I mean them no harm whatsoever. It makes it difficult to just be myself, because I am constantly trying to say things to help them relax in their decision to bring a complete stranger who says he is walking across America into their home. The website has added some credibility to what I do, but sometimes I can still feel some apprehension and fear of the worst.

The diversity in which people react to me is always very interesting. As far as trust is concerned, I have had people that were not quite sure if they could trust me in their house allow me stay in their shop or garage, and then I have had people give me the keys to their vehicle moments after we've met. I greatly appreciate what both types of people are doing for me, but it is not hard to determine which situation would make me feel more comfortable to be in. I think that some people are using their God given brain to protect themselves, some live in fear of the worst, some claim to have a good judge of character, while some people (like Brother Bob in Gurdon) say, "That truck is not mine. It's God's, so feel free to use it whenever you need to." With Preston, I think (and I guess he told me) that it was the fact that I have mentioned --that he will give you his trust unless you give him a good reason not to. There was no apprehension, and this afternoon when his grandchildren wanted to go fishing but he had things to do, I took his grandchildren fishing. I didn't have to prove myself. I was trusted, and then I was allowed to just be Tom.

I began to feel fortunate because it rained so much yesterday, and I became grateful for the opportunity to spend some more time here in Junction City. Like most every day these days, I had one of those moments when I could sense God doing something for me that wasn't a part of my plans. I am learning to just go along with it, although spending yesterday in my tent listening to the rain caused me to say, "Okay God. What is the deal with all this rain? Don't you think that we have had enough for today?" I am learning to just say, "Okay God. You are God, and I'm just Tom. So, what do You have planned for today?"

Friday, March 17, 2000: Ruston, Louisiana

Preston drove me back to where I left off walking before Wednesday's rain, and I continued walking south on quiet parish roads towards Ruston. I am very pleased with the amount of woods in this area of Northern Louisiana and also pleased with the quiet back roads that I have found where I see an average of two vehicles an hour. As I looked at my maps and chose a back way to walk to Ruston, I saw that I would pass through a little community called Hilly, but it didn't occur to me what that would mean. It meant that it would be hilly and a workout at times, but I really enjoyed walking in the woods in the absence of traffic.

I reached a little town called Vienna (pronounced Vye-ena, Loozee-ana) and a little grocery store that became a nice place to stop for awhile. I think I am going to enjoy the little groceries in the South. They seem to all have a few tables inside, and they are a place to visit with folks or see what is going on much more than just a place to buy groceries. It is that little grocery phenomena that I first experienced at Harvey's Grocery in Camden, Arkansas. There seems to be one in every little community with a population of over 500 people down here. Some folks were enjoying enormous plates of boiled crawfish inside, but they didn't want me to take their picture. So, I went outside and took a picture of some inspiring graffiti instead. Graffiti in the Bible-Belt can be inspiring.

I met a man named Jim today in Ruston. When I asked him if he would let me camp in his backyard tonight, he said, "I don't see why that would be a problem," and I was relieved. I wanted to spend the weekend in Ruston, but it is a fairly large town with very few safe camping spots I'm sure. So Jim saying, "I don't see why that would be a problem," was an incredible service to me, and it will allow me to save any motel room funds in my prudent reserve for future thunderstorms. After Jim and his family got to know me better, he invited me to stay inside on the couch. I am confident he understands that I am I not some crazy axe murderer type of guy using the old "walking across America" story to hack up him and his family as they sleep tonight.