LA Part 2

Sunday, March 26, 2000: Ruston, Louisiana

Last Monday, I was standing out on Jon and Christi's deck, looking up at the clear blue skies and making a decision to walk on towards Jonesboro, but for some reason I wasn't quite sure if I was making the right decision. I asked God for guidance on the matter, and I began to think about staying in Ruston for a few days. When Jon invited me to stay at his home as long as I need to and his friend Chris called to ask me if I would like to earn some walking funds working at Twin Oaks Nursery, I felt that I had my answer.

I went to work on Tuesday morning in a greenhouse, potting seedlings and cuttings of spring flowers with Chris' wife Melanie. It was an extremely peaceful occupation with lots of oxygen, plenty of dirt under the fingernails, good conversation with Melanie all day, and a strange farmer-like feeling of satisfaction that comes from helping flowers to grow. I really enjoyed it.

Besides gaining a basic understanding of what folks that work in a greenhouse do, one of the most interesting things that I learned on Tuesday was that certain flowers have been invented and have consequently been patented. If you grow one of these patented flowers and then sell it to someone, you are required to pay royalties to those who invented the flower (unless you want to take a chance on the flower police not finding out about the transaction). I had no idea.

Wednesday through Saturday, I worked with a guy named David, building a tree-house/deck type of structure with a slide and a balance beam at a day care center. I really enjoyed working with David, and we have become very good friends. Although the working environment included being asked, "Whatcha doin'?" and "Why?" what seemed like a thousand times by precious, little, overly-inquisitive children, there was great job satisfaction on Friday when the kids tested out the slide for the first time. They loved it. As I watched them tirelessly go down the slide only to run around to the top to do it again over and over while continuously laughing, I became envious and thought to myself, "I don't remember ever having that much energy."

I had the privilege of talking with a young man named Nick for a couple of hours on the phone today. Nick began walking across America a few weeks ago in Southern California, and he had most of the same millions of questions that I had almost three years ago when I started in Oregon. The conversation produced many flashbacks to the beginning of my trip as I talked with him and even as I write this. The topics included foot care, foot pain, ways to lighten your backpack, dealing with police officers, food and water supplies, places to camp and shower, and the adjustment from stationary living to a life of walking down the road.

Nick is beginning to notice that what is going on in the world becomes less important when your main concerns become food, water, and shelter when the weather is not cooperating. I remember it being one of the first things that I began to notice on my trip, and at the same time, something that I really began to enjoy. The only news that I was really aware of that first summer of walking was the death of Princess Dianna and Mike Tyson biting off some guy's ear. The really big things, you know?

He also reminded me of the loneliness, isolation, and apprehension that I felt when I began this journey. To be honest, I was scared and felt a thousand miles away (which I was) from everything familiar in my life. Today, it seems like walking down the road with my pack is familiar to me, and I know there is almost always familiar people waiting for me in the next town --it's just a matter of walking there to meet them. Today, the balance between my time spent with people and the time I get to spend alone often reaches a point to where I actually feel the need for more time alone, but I know that thought never crossed my mind when I started walking. I remember how it was and how many times I said to myself, "What am I doing out here?" and just kept walking. Now I only say, "What am I doing out here?" about once every two weeks, and it's almost always raining at the time. I still just keep walking.

Saturday, April 1, 2000: Ruston, Louisiana

I have spent the past week of my life laying on Jon and Christi's futon with a full head, stuffed-up nose, sore throat, and an incredible lack of energy that goes beyond descriptions like tired or drained or fatigued, to a word that I don't know has even been invented yet. The folks of Louisiana have been telling me that pollen was most likely the cause of my suffering, but I remained skeptical because I've never had any problems with pollen or allergies in my entire life. As I slowly came to believe in the pollen theory, I switched from effervescent cold relief to a steady diet of antihistamines and even began snorting sea-salt mixed with warm water up my nose four times a day as recommended by my friend Melanie.

I finally went to see a doctor yesterday. I was dizzy at the time on antihistamines and from physically exerting myself by getting up off of the futon, but I think that he said it was the pollen and that I probably had a sinus infection. He gave me drugs --lots of them, and being the very nice person that he is, they were all free samples. So, today I am still resting, but resting with hope that the Nasonex I have been spraying up my nose and the antibiotics and prescription antihistamines coursing through my veins will bring me relief in the near future. I will get off of this futon and walk again --hopefully before bedsores develop.

About an hour before sunset, I saw a guy outside working on his motorcycle. At this time of the day, I always stop to ask someone for water (enough to cook the evening meal of pasta-roni with tuna and to make coffee in the morning,) and then I walk another mile or so while I look for perspective camping spots to call home for the night. Well this particular guy working on his motorcyle (Jimmy) was very friendly, and we talked for awhile even though I knew that I had little time to get down the road and find a camping spot before it would be dark. His wife (Vicky) came outside and invited me in for dinner. (Actually, folks down here call it supper, because dinner is what they call the meal at noon. I still haven't gotten used to that, but anyway--) As I the sun began to set, I was sitting at their supper table enjoying hamburgers cooked by Vicky on one of those waffle iron type of hamburger cookers, so I asked Jimmy if I could set up my tent in his backyard. He said that would be fine.

Sunday, April 2, 2000: Ruston, Louisiana

The drugs are working, and I am feeling much better today. I feel like I was in a coma for a week, and today I've returned to the world of the living. It's good to be back.

Wednesday, April 5, 2000: Ruston, Louisiana

I took another job with my friend David, and we have been busy painting a house for the past couple of days. The road is calling me back --I am feeling good and the sun has been shining for two days in a row (a phenomenon that I haven't seen in quite awhile), but working with David has been an enjoyable way to earn traveling funds, so I have just kept on working and living in Ruston. I plan to be walking in the next few days though. We finished painting the house this evening, and I will find out about another possible 2-3 day job tomorrow. If it doesn't fall into place, I will be walking tomorrow.

Thursday, April 6, 2000; Ruston, Louisiana

The weather is beautiful, and I will be out walking down the road this afternoon. I have a place to stay lined up in a town about 30 miles away, so I should be able to update the site again in a few days. On the road again --that feels good, but when I stay in a town for three weeks --like I have in Ruston, it always makes it much harder for me to say goodbye. That would be the case at this present moment. I now have very good friends that live in Ruston, and while I am excited to be out walking today in the sunshine with the adventure of being on the road again, I have to say goodbye to them this afternoon. I don't particularly enjoy saying goodbye to people who I have grown close to and have become my good friends, but it is just something that is a part of walking across America. So...that's what's new, and I would be lying if I said that it wasn't bothering me at all today. I am sure that walking down the road in the sunshine with the adventure of being on the road again will probably help.

I am very grateful to have had a place to stay the past week while I have been ill. Jon and his wife, Christi, have been very kind to open their home and pull out their futon for me. My friend Jon spends most of his time with school here in Ruston at Louisiana Tech., but he still found time in his busy afternoon schedule to stop and enjoy some trash T.V. talk shows with me. We had a good time together watching and laughing at the folks who decide that it would be a good idea to share their deep dark secrets with their husbands, wives and lovers on national television.

Watching Jerry Springer everyday has a way of raising one's self-esteem in a sick and twisted sort of way. It bears witness every afternoon that no matter how bad things get, there will always be others who are much worse. I am beyond stir crazy, but all I can do today is lay here and let the antibiotics work their magic.

Friday, April 7, 2000: Quitman, Louisiana

I said goodbye to my friends in Ruston yesterday and continued my walk south on the back roads towards Jonesboro. The good news: The weather has been beautiful. All the rain the past few weeks has made Northern Louisiana extremely green and beautiful. I continue to find these quiet back roads through the woods where I only see about one vehicle per hour. The absence of traffic liberates my mind from the concerns of getting hit by a car, and that allows me to spend my time thinking about more important things. The people seem to get friendlier with every step I take south, and the one car I see an hour usually includes a wave from the driver. About every half mile I walk past a house where often there is someone sitting on the front porch. We exchange waves, say hello, sometimes they ask me where I'm headin' and we talk for awhile, and sometimes I ask them for water when my Camelback is empty. The bad news: While I was in Ruston for three weeks, the poison ivy has sprouted up to ankle level and about half of Louisiana's estimated 250 billion mosquitoes have come to life. As usual, the good outweighs the bad, and I really enjoyed the walk today.

Thursday, April 13, 2000: Jonesboro, Louisiana

I am still in Jonesboro experiencing more rain delay this week. I was able to work with David on Monday destroying someone's chimney and fireplace that was beginning to fall apart. Swinging a sledgehammer all day is something that I haven't done in awhile, and although my shoulders are still sore, it had a certain amount of therapeutic value. On Tuesday the rains came, and it is still presently raining today in Northern Louisiana.

Although it would be a pleasant experience to see the sun shine again, I have enjoyed my stay here in Jonesboro. Bill and Cindy have made me feel very welcome to stay with them as long as need to. They have been treating me like family. Their daughter, Rachel, let me use her car the other day, and I drove out to take a look at some potential back roads down to Winnfield. I also boosted my water repellency by spraying my rain gear with two coats of ScotchGuard water repellant, and I am planning to be back on the road again this weekend --raining or not. If I was to only walk when it is not raining this April in Northern Louisiana, I would probably be waitingtom more days than I would be walkingtom.

Sunday, April 9, 2000: Jonesboro, Louisiana

I made it to Jonesboro yesterday and called Bill, the doctor who gave me the antibiotics last week that restored me to health. He had invited me to stay with him and his wife (Cindy) when I passed through Jonesboro, and so I took him up on the invitation. My friend, David, from Ruston has another home improvement job near Jonesboro, and I plan to be working with him agian this week.

Jimmy and Vicky have driven an eighteen wheeler, with "Professional Tourists" painted on the front, around the United States together for many years, and they have been to many of the same places that I have been on this journey. They have also been to many of the places that I plan to walk through in the future, so Jimmy got out the road atlas and we spent the evening talking about the places that I should go and places that I shouldn't. It was extremely educational evening for me, and no one could ever say that Jimmy can't tell a good story. It is good to be on the road again.