Moving in silent desperation
Keeping an eye on the holy land
Along the road.
Whenever I see him, I think,
“There goes Walking Man.”
I don’t know where he goes,
or where he’s been,
but I see him sometimes in the evening
as I’m coming off of I-29 at my exit.
In the hour of the long shadow,
at the onset of dusk,
he’s walking alongside 64th Street
right where it crosses
under the overpass.
Traffic is nuts here –
the intersection bloats with cars,
stacked up and waiting
for a green light to release them unto their final destination.
But still, oblivious, he walks.
His gait is unnatural and herky-jerky, as if walking requires some skill beyond just setting one foot down in front of the other. He carries one arm close to his body, and there’s an extra beat per measure, somehow, in his gait.
Keeping an eye on the holy land
a hypothetical destination
Say, who is this walking man?
-- James Taylor
He walks. Along the road.
Whenever I see him, I think,
“There goes Walking Man.”
I don’t know where he goes,
or where he’s been,
but I see him sometimes in the evening
as I’m coming off of I-29 at my exit.
In the hour of the long shadow,
at the onset of dusk,
he’s walking alongside 64th Street
right where it crosses
under the overpass.
Traffic is nuts here –
the intersection bloats with cars,
stacked up and waiting
for a green light to release them unto their final destination.
But still, oblivious, he walks.
His gait is unnatural and herky-jerky, as if walking requires some skill beyond just setting one foot down in front of the other. He carries one arm close to his body, and there’s an extra beat per measure, somehow, in his gait.
The first time I saw him I thought, “Oh my god, that guy is loaded -- and he’s going to walk right into traffic!”
Walking Man has white hair, almost shoulder length, and a frightening grimace that is a perpetual look of anguish. After seeing him a few times, I began to realize that he wasn’t scary and he wasn’t drunk. Well, he could be drunk or high. He definitely has some serious infirmity, though whether it be of body, mind, or heart, I couldn’t say.
Mainly, he walks.
In the summer - with waves of heat turning the pavement to jelly and distorting my view of him - he was walking then.
Last winter he wore a stocking cap and a coat, but he walked. When the snow was deep, Walking Man trudged on. What was so important that he just had to get out? I’m not sure but it seems like the walk is the thing. He’s never carrying anything.
I’ve invented stories in my head to explain his walking: he’s a Vietnam vet who walks to forget the horrors of war; he’s had an unfortunate accident is walking for therapy, determined to regain full use of his body; he’s a drugged out weirdo who gets hammered and then decides he needs to walk down the road… for a fix…for some booze….maybe he thinks he’s walking an imaginary dog.
But you know, Walking Man doesn’t care what I think.
Obviously.
Obviously.
A few days ago, I saw Walking Man wearing a bright orange vest with reflective stripes on it – like the ones that highway workers wear. I like to think that somebody else who watching this saga unfold cares about what happens to Walking Man, and has donated the vest so that he maybe won’t get hit by a car. Because you know, he’s our Walking Man, and we have to look out for him, a little bit.
this made me tear up, and a little sad. LOVE it!! i like the idea of y'all keeping an eye out for him. the vest and all. i wonder if he knows people wonder about him?
ReplyDeleteWow, this was really good and touching. Could he be walking to work? Walking to a soup kitchen? I'm glad he has the vest. It sounds dangerous for him to be roaming around heavy traffic. Always walking out in the bitter cold? I feel for people like that. He is probably not all there, mentally.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, I've always loved that song "Walking man" by James Taylor. I think I first heard it in your car--maybe when we went to Wichita one time?
i don't think he IS all there, mentally. as i have no way of knowing for sure, i can only guess. but i suspect that this walk he takes is of great importance to him, since he does it no matter what. i dont think there's a soup kitchen around there.
ReplyDeletehis story recalls to me how, in small towns especially, people look after the ones who are a little off the mark, like that. i'm glad somebody took the time to get the vest for him - but for all i know it could have been a friend or family member.
sometimes it bugs me that he appears in my life on a semi-daily basis and i don't know anything about him and probably never will -- i would have to accost him, somehow......there's no way to pull over at that intersection.
and YES! i love that song still. it's very possible we listened to it in my car. ah...james. how i love you...
i bet he has a story to tell...whether he could coherently speak it or not, we'll probably never know. maybe he's another homeless dj.
ReplyDelete