The rolling, winding gravel roads of Warren County are as beautiful as any I’ve walked this month. At one bend in the road, there’s a small farm stand selling pumpkins, eggs, peppers, and various baked goods.

No one attends the stand, but there’s a sign indicating how much each item costs, and a box marked “Pay Here.”

As I’m surveying the stand’s offerings, trying to decide between a bag of cookies and a cinnamon roll, a battered Jeep pulls up.

The driver says, “Hey, can you pull me a dozen eggs out of the cooler and put this cash in that box?”

“Of course!” I say.“

The guy hands me five bucks. He tells me he’s disabled so it’s tough for him to get in and out of his Jeep. He suffered an injury earlier this year, and recovery has been slow. Continue Reading →

I asked for it last week when I invited readers to submit captions for this photo that I took of a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste littering the side of a gravel road. There’s no way I can share all the responses with you, but here’s my top three, in no particular order:

“Fluoride treatment in 1/2 mile!” – Jan Thomas

“It can be a rocky road to dental hygiene, but the good news here is that we see no missing teeth.” – Winter Ross

“The Save America March is committed to preserving the Tooth, the whole Tooth, and nothing but the Tooth.” – Jon Krieg

There’s no official panel judging the captions. It’s just me. So if you think your stroke of brilliance was underrated, that’s my bad. Continue Reading →

The guy told me I’d soon be crossing the train tracks where three kids were killed six years ago, and I’d see a memorial there. It was one of those stupid, tragic things that kids sometimes do, trying to beat a train across the tracks. The train hit their vehicle and dragged the car 1,440 feet before being able to stop completely.

Later that day, I meet a truck driver waiting to load his rig at a Pilot station. He’s Cuban, from Miami, and when he sees my shirt he says, “Yes we have to save America, save it from the communists. Trump is doing a great job.”

I told him I didn’t see it that way. I asked how he felt about all the people being deported. He insisted they were all criminals. I did a search on my phone and showed him objective data showing that 63% of the deportees had no criminal record, and only 7% had committed any kind of a violent crime. He said it was fake news. Continue Reading →

After accomplishing a hefty load of footsteps in hot weather, I inevitably crave a tall infusion of electrolytes. Arriving in Creston, I pop into a convenience store, buy orange juice and a piece of sugary junk food, and amble outside in search of a seat in the shade.

There’s one table, and there’s already a woman in her thirties sitting at it. I ask if I can join her. She says sure. I plop down as gracefully as one who’s just walked thirteen dusty miles can plop, and notice a pile of blocks in front of her.

“What’s that?,” I ask.

“It’s a game of Jenga that some kids left behind,” she says as she carefully stacks the blocks, three across, until there’s an 18-row tower in front of her.

She carefully removes one block and says, “Your turn.” Continue Reading →