It’s the last day of the March! I’ve managed to walk 220 miles in 18 days without meeting a single drop of rain. More important, the hospitality has been exceptional, which I’m happy to say is typical for Iowa.

More important still, though I’ve had fewer conversations than I’d hoped (harvest season), dozens of conversations have given me renewed hope for our democracy and our country.

My “worst” interaction of the March happened today on a swanky golf course in West Des Moines.

For much of today’s thirteen-mile trek, I follow the Great Western Trail. A short stretch runs through Willow Creek Golf Course.

I come to a stone bench where the trail crosses a golf-cart path. It’s an ideal spot for lunch, so I take off my shoes and pull a banana and some bread from my satchel.

After a while, two golf carts whiz past, passengers barely glancing in my direction. A third cart stops abruptly, and the driver looks at me disapprovingly. My thought is he takes me for a homeless person and is about to order me off the golf course (which he doesn’t have the authority to do). He carries a distinct air of privilege and wealth.

“What are you doing?,” he asks, with a tone of annoyance rather than curiosity. Continue Reading →