Diary entry: June 12, 2018

Don’t you want a day, a day of your own, or at least to share a day with me, one of my days, one of my 365 days on the road from California to Plymouth?
It’s a reverse gold rush. I am shedding all wealth, disgorging myself of all possessions, likely losing friends and lovers and everything on my long walk home…
Ooh, that’s a bit morose, but it’s that kind of day, of morning: cool and dry and promising more of the same, promising temperatures that the brain seems to love. My brain has put its toe into the water and felt nothing. The air is the temperature of my brain.
Don’t you want a day? Your own day, on my walk? A day when I will reflect on those back in my adopted hometown, reflect not so much on what they are doing, may be doing, but what they have done, how they have lived, how they have managed to moderate the temperature of the town so that it is the same temperature as my brain so that my brain would come up with this idea of going away and then walking home.
Walking home.
I spoke with Nancy Carroll yesterday. Hmmm? I am not sure that she has a day, yet? She deserves a day for all that she has done for the town, for me, for anyone who comes within earshot of her laughter.
We got together to talk about the July 4 parade. I am going to walk, or march in it: I will not float. As Nancy said, if you are going to walk across the country I don’t think it would look right for you to be transported down Court Street atop a large float.
Maybe when you get back you can float.
Nancy had a lot of good advice about how I might ‘walk’ in the parade including statistics.
People love big numbers she said. Big numbers are like mountains that suddenly appear on the horizon as you are driving. You want to get to them as soon as possible. Or whales. Big numbers are like whales, rolling over in the water, spraying the air.
So we took the number of miles I will walk crossing the country, multiplied that by the number of feet in a mile, divided that by the length of my stride and came up with 7, 392,000.
Write it out, Nancy said: Seven million three hundred and ninety-two thousand.
That’s how many steps you will take crossing the country: put that on a banner and march with it.
Nancy is so smart.
She deserves a day of her own.

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