I’m always in awe at what one finds on the side of a road. Our highways, byways, and even gravel roads are littered with an astounding clutter of things. Junk you’d never notice while driving brings you to a halt when you’re walking and see them up close.
Take this tube of toothpaste lying next to a tooth brush on a gravel road. How the heck does that happen? By accident? By design? What’s the story here? Continue Reading →
There’s a guy sitting off by himself. After a bit, I wander over and ask him where he’s from. His name’s Jim Thacker, and he’s traveled to Greenfield from Missouri for work. He was a sniper in the US Army, and I’m interested to know how he feels about Trump sending the military into US cities.
Jim doesn’t like it, and says, “You do swear an oath to defend the country from all enemies, foreign and domestic. But I would hesitate calling American citizens domestic enemies. So I’m not a big fan of it.”
Jim adds, “I feel like Trump is trying to surround himself with people who are like-minded and agree with anything he says, including going against the Constitution. The United States is a broken country, and it’s been that way for a long time.” Continue Reading →
Walking 13 miles along Highway 92 from Winterset to Greenfield provides challenges I haven’t dealt with for years. While not exactly packed with traffic, there’s a constant enough flow that I’ve got to remain hyper-focused. The extended concentration adds its own level of fatigue to legs still sore from yesterday’s 17-mile hike.
Much of the traffic is big stuff, too, given that the harvest is in full swing. The combines move slowly and aren’t a concern. But the semis, loaded with corn and beans, barrel along at 55-60 miles per hour. Continue Reading →
The day’s march from Earlham to Winterset is another long one — 17 miles. It’s made easier by perfect weather, quiet gravel roads, and stellar hospitality at the end of the day.
During my first break under a shade tree, a farmer pulls up in his pick-up truck and asks if everything’s ok. I explain what I’m doing. We discuss crop yields (good) and commodity prices (bad).
I ask him how President Trump’s tariff war is affecting him and other farmers. “There’s a lot of talk around here about how China hasn’t bought a single US soybean this year,” he says. Continue Reading →
After four days and 42 miles of urban and suburban hiking, I arrive in rural Iowa. Tom Walton joins me for five miles of today’s 13-mile march from Van Meter to Earlham. I’ve mostly walked alone, so it’s nice to have a companion for the first two hours of today’s trek.
It’s also nice to be out of the city. But I’m quickly reminded that there are pros and cons to rural marching.
In 1994, I invited Gandhi’s granddaughter, Sumitra Kulkarni, to give a series of presentations in Des Moines. To my surprise and delight, she accepted!
The most memorable moment of her visit was when she chastised me over dinner at our home for not owning a dishwasher. “But your grandfather would never approve of a dishwasher,” I offered.
“That was then. This is now. You need to buy your wife a dishwasher,” she responded, while waving a finger at me.
Sumitra invited me to visit her in India. I jumped at the chance, and later that year spent a few days with her and her husband G.R. in Ahmedabad. I then traveled the country visiting activists who were using Gandhi’s principles to address various social, political, and environmental challenges.
During my visit, Sumitra gifted me a satchel which has been the centerpiece of nearly all my long marches. It’s seen many a repair job over the years, most recently under the loving and skillful attention of my wife Kathy. Continue Reading →
I’ve known Pat Bertroche for over a decade through our mutual involvement with radio. We also share the experience of running for Congress — Pat as a Republican, me as a Democrat. We both lost — but I got more votes than he did. So there, Pat.
Our rapport involves a lot of banter (see pervious paragraph). I ask Pat why he would allow a left-wing loony like me into his sensible conservative home.
“I appreciate you insisting on me putting you up for the night, eating my food, watching my TV,” joked Pat. “When I saw you at my door, I felt bad for you. You looked like a bedraggled kitten.”
That was after a mere six-mile march. Pat should have seen me after the previous day’s nineteen-mile slog.
“The truth is, when Republicans and Democrats actually talk we agree a lot more than we disagree,” says Pat. “Part of the problem these days is that the media — all media, both mainstream and social media — is driven by clicks. So you tend to say things that get clicks, that make headlines.” Continue Reading →
Dear Friends, When I decided to do this March, I hadn’t planned on any days over 12 miles. Today’s 19-mile slog from Pleasant Hill to Clive is a tough one, Continue Reading →
I was pleased to wake up without feeling any soreness from yesterday’s seven-mile march. Today, I knock off ten miles, walking from the southeast side of Des Moines to Pleasant Hill.
This week’s unseasonable heat is problematic. My route is mostly in the hot sun, and the long trek north on SE 14th Street is unpleasant. There’s a sidewalk, but it’s narrow, with very little buffer between it and the street.
I pass only four people on foot or bike along the three-mile stretch. One guy lugs several heavy bags of food and supplies with him. He tells me he’s on his way to the tent he’s pitched down by the river. I later regret that I didn’t offer to help him haul his load.
My overnight stay is with Chuck Hurley. Chuck’s a former lawmaker and a conservative evangelical Christian. We got along well when we served in the legislature, and were occasionally helpful to each other, both in the House and in “real life.” Continue Reading →
I always strive to be completely honest and transparent. So I’ll share with you that I’d rather be home than walking around Iowa. I’ll miss my wonderful, beautiful wife, Kathy. I’ll miss our farm and the seasonal rhythm of chores, harvest, and good eating. I’ll miss our diverse community of friends and neighbors.
But times such as these — when an authoritarian government threatens democracy, and run-away climate change threatens our very survival — we are each called on to do what we can.
This march is one more thing I can do. It’ll be difficult, that much is certain. Perhaps it’ll also be fruitful, if even in a small way.
Halfway through today’s seven-mile march from Sherman Hill to the southeast side of Des Moines, I was greeted by a sign that prodded me with a gentle but important reminder:
“Earn the right to be heard by listening first.” Continue Reading →