Seeing is Believing

When I met Paul he was bigger than the first photo. In the six months since we met he has shed over seventy pounds. He said he, and his wife, were inspired after meeting me and made some changes. I will take no credit for the great work he has done. Paul is an inspiration to me.

Nudge

A little push
That's all it takes
To start an avalanche
A gentle nudge.

Sailors Dream

A friend of Suzanne's came by one evening to visit, she has helped grow support for his lofty goals. Ralph Brown and "Suz"encouraged me to keep my dreams afloat.
He built an "itty bitty" boat, dropped it in the ocean to prove how well it'd float. Taking on the seas, he proved it unsinkable thru the unthinkable. First to Bermuda and back, other world records he did stack.
What struck me, when I met him, was not just his will to grow his Dreamboat line, but his enthusiasm that it has enabled him to help with others dreams, "unsinkable".

Sitting in the plaza, dreaming big.

In the Dog House Now

Taking time to heal. That sounds so easy. I had a good adjustment this morning. Now I need to do what my chiropractor told me to do, back in '06. NOTHING. All those years ago I had hurt my back. The "Doc" said, "Don't do any kind of work, unless it is lifting a pencil, for ten days." A few days later,(I can only blame myself), I was back at work and did severe nerve damage to my lower back. If I follow the "Doc's" advice, seven years later, and only lift a pencil; maybe this time I can keep from doing more damage. I have learned my lesson. Now I must follow through and do nothing.
If there are gaps between posts it will be because I am compiling that thing that I don't want to say out loud. A book. If I say it, I have to do it. I don't like letting myself down. I have been making up excuses. Since I should stay off my feet, it gives me time to ... Do that thing.
"Words are meaningless unless they are accompanied by action." A random quote that caught my eye and put me in "the doghouse".

Ouch

I will not be writing today. The chiropractic adjustment loosened the pinched nerves and opened up a bucket of "Whoop ass" from my hip to the tip of my toe. Thankfully there are people here to walk the dog further than the bush thirty feet from the door, which is all I am good for.

Kicking myself

The battle in the parking lot last month has caught up with me. I was strained and sore after having to drag a man and two fighting dogs while kicking away a third, across a parking lot. I had to get a chiropractic adjustment today. The pain from that day has only gotten worse. My lower back has endured so many injuries over the years, from accidents and "cocksure youth". Aside from a nearly crippling spinal injury when I was in my teens, at work I was always lifting great weight myself, where two men should. It caught up with me years ago and I have to be ever mindful of how I move. The unfortunate incident with the dog groomer's dogs, where I was the only one who came out of it not bleeding, has triggered a lifetime of aches, and new pains to add to the list. An old man told me, in my youth, I'd be kicking myself later in life for jumping from too high or manhandling twice my share. For some of those acts I should have been, more thoughtful, but I will not kick myself for injuring my back this time. I jumped into the fray for my companion. Though I have not hurt this bad in years, I would do again.
The chiropractor told me to come back again in two days...

Under the Awning

Like sheltering arms, the overhang of the plaza stretches to my left and right. Safe from the rain. Shade most of the day. It captures the wind so my world won't blow away.
Who am I kidding?
Today, I've nothing to say.


This morning Nice, the World, and I walked longer than we were told. He led the entire way. I wrote the doctor and asked if we are going to fast or should ratchet back. Nice is gaining agility each day. I rub him down after each walk. He seems to be loose during the day, while he basks in the sun then moves under the shade of the awning. then back. One more month until the final ex ray...
Have a Nice day.

Walk like a Hutterian

I learned about my "roots", in of all places, a Hutterite colony in North East South Dakota.
"The Hutterites are a communal people, living on hundreds of scattered bruderhöfe or colonies throughout the prairies of northwestern North America. On average, fifteen families live and work on the typical Hutterite colony, where they farm, raise livestock and produce manufactured goods for sustenance."
We were allowed to stay a night, in the van, in the middle of their closely constructed communal compound. The winds were too strong that day and I was unable to push several more miles before dark into Roshalt. After meeting with the head-elder to ask for permission to park by the road, and explaining my journey, he showed me where to park by a stand of trees in the communal center, then had one of the Brethren drive me back to North Dakota to retrieve the van. When I returned, the head elder brought me a plate for dinner, before he and the other adults were due in for the common evening meal. The children all spoke a mix of German and English, the girls wore bonnets and dresses, the boys collared shirts and harnessed pants. They were understandably curious but the elders"shooed" them away with authority. After their meal I watched as the entire community went in their homes, emerged wearing formal dress, reverently walk to the chapel for evening service, then back, change to work clothes and return to their jobs. There was something familiar about these people,but I could not put the feeling into words.
A side note:
I can't remember being more pleased that day to see a gentle turn in the road, after we passed into South Dakota. Though I had spent only ten days walking from Fargo; the farmlands of North Dakota were divided every mile in a square grid of roads, the monotony had already become mind-numbing. The grain elevators and water towers could be seen in the distance hours before we passed them, adding to the overwhelming flatness. It was only a slight change from the level "flats" of the Red River Basin, but it was welcome.
The Elder and a few others came to call just before nightfall, we shared conversation and learned about one another. The Elder explained that his people had been driven out of the Tyrols in Austria in the sixteenth century by the Catholics. They went to Russia and in the 1850's began colonizing in America. When I mentioned that my grandparents immigrated from The Tyrols the Elder raised his brow and asked if I were Catholic. Centuries of conflict flashed in his eye when I told him I had been baptized Catholic. Eager to quell the rage in his eye I assured him I carry no "ill" and believe every religion equal...Then I apologized for what my ancestors may, or may not.have been part of. He forgave me, we shared apples, we talked until the evening bell. The Hutterites are "close knit" and during the centuries have not mixed (married/bred) outside of the core group that centuries ago were driven from the valley where my grandparents came from two centuries later...
Weeks went by as I met many Hutterian families on the road. Always there was something about them I could not place. Something was familiar...
All my life I have been told I have a walk that is distinctive. My son, who walked with me during one of our walks, has a distinctive walk. More than one person has told me they saw my son walking on the sidewalks at home. They had never met him, but knew I had a boy and nobody walks like that unless he was mine His mother says we walk exactly alike. I have a sister who was recognized in a crowd by a childhood friend from behind because of her gait. I could go on...

One evening an eighteen wheeler stopped and from across the road the driver waddled over. He was Hutterian, knew of my story and had to stop. We talked as the sun stretched the shadows. When he walked back to his trailer his shadow caught my eye. It looked like my sons shadow, the way It rocked back and forth when I watched him during our travels. Then it hit me, that same shadow, the same rhythm, tilt of the head, shuffle and bounce that follows me...
I now waddle with pride in my ancestral roots from the Austrian Alpine region. Thanks to the Hutterites of the Dakota prairies.

Unlikely

When I first looked at the plaza from across the road I judged it an unlikely place to stop for an evening. The least likely unit at the plaza, the one with black tinted windows and no sign on the door, would have been the last place I'd have gone knocking; even to get out of the rain. If I were asked to write a list where I would nurse my dog back to health after a major surgery, a corporate office, filled with desks and computers, would not appear. Of the people I met when we first walked through the door, the one I judged least likely to take-heed, has begun walking each morning since. She takes her nineteen year old dog, who now waits at the door to go along. She has inspired neighbors to join in, at times the group has over a dozen and more. Recently a giant woodpecker that forages in the large oak tree behind her house has followed her and her ancient hound, flying from perch to perch, during their morning routine. Stranger things have been known to happen. Like seeing a fat, bald guy wearing a cowboy hat, rolling a six foot canvas world while walking a dog, who is wearing a sweater , down the road...not very likely... Judging, highly overrated.

Walking away from what I Love...The Back Story

This morning, with tears welling, I shouldered the weight of the world and walked to greet the new day. Without emotion, I wiped my eyes and recalled why I have had to walk away from the work that I love, carpentry. The tears were not for sadness, or pain, but an occasional involuntary leakage that is due to nerve damage from injuries to my spine.
Six years ago I had hurt my back so badly that at the end of a days work, when I would lay down, my entire body would begin to spasm. Without pain, my nose would start to run while my eyes poured tears and with every heartbeat all my muscles jerked like I were attached to an electric current switching on and off. After a few minutes the spasms, runny nose and tears would cease, to be replaced by immobilizing pain. A lifetime of accumulated accidents, strains and overwork reduced me to a day of work, then two or three days to recover. Through the nights I would awaken to the sound of someone crying out in pain, to find that someone was me; I had tried to move or roll over as I slept and awoke myself with my own cries.
At the time, the only thing I could do was walk. I had just been given Nice (the puppy). Rolling the world was therapy, so I walked four hundred miles.
Nine separate walks since then have strengthened my old muscles. Months on the road, after many years I have healed to have only the occasional welling of tears. Thousands of miles and I have lost a few pounds. Dozens of States walking in memory of my mother and don't cry myself awake anymore..
The back side of the story is: I would not be here if I had not been so broken. Some say one has to loose everything to find something more valuable.
I had to give up what I love, but found that something.

Chasing the sun

"Fool on the Hill" by the Beatles strains in my ears as I begin to write. Thanks to the wonders of technology, I can listen to public radio and be distracted "right out of the gate"...


We went for our evening stroll through the cluttered neighborhood. I chased a chance for a view unobstructed by a house or power-line to enjoy a majestic Spring Hill, Florida sunset. This morning we rolled to see an equally beautiful sunrise.
I have chores this morning. Hopefully this afternoon I will be able to piece together the story that has been nesting in my head.
Have a great day.
.

Walking with the Sisters

One morning we met a woman, as we rolled with the world, during our morning walk through her neighborhood. I explained how and why we came to be walking with the world, of Nice's knees that have brought us to stay in Spring Hill. She happily told me she walked every morning, that walking was very a good activity for anyone's health and "love yourself, go for a walk" is a wonderful message. We agreed to talk again soon and walked on.
The next morning, in the same neighborhood, a woman approached who I thought was the lady I had met the previous day. She was not, I soon found myself telling our tale to her. As we talked the woman of the previous day strolled up. The reason the two looked similar, they were sisters. They joked that they were walking together, that the older sister walked to fast. I joked that I walk slower than a woman pushing twins in a baby carriage through tall grass. All joking aside we all agreed that walking is an important part of our lives, especially for those who have poor circulation with diabetes. The elder, faster sister, said with a smile that she looks forward to her morning walks, walking made her happy.
We then walked together, at separate paces, in different directions. Nice and I circled wide to a side road leading out of the neighborhood. On our return, bordering the subdivision along the sidewalk by the highway, I waved at the faster sister. She smiled and waved, quickly walked to the end of the road a few feet in front of me, then suddenly turned around without loosing her "peppy" rhythm. Her sister could be seen in the distance.
We will walk together again tomorrow, for a few steps...