Maybe in Heaven There is a River of Cherry Coke

I'm walking two hours a day now, probably six miles or more altogether, so I'm getting plenty of cardio work in my new hiking boots and thermal socks. Already they are thoroughly broken in, and my stride is getting freer and more vigorous. I don't mind walking; I used to walk a lot as a young man, particularly in high school. We lived a few miles from school and I was always playing sports and walking home.

Sometimes people would stop and give me rides, and other times I just kept walking, but I thought nothing of walking for miles. Community College was easily ten miles from our house and I frequently walked home from there. It was easier and more practical than waiting for someone to take care of me. I didn't get my driver's license until the summer after I graduated from high school, didn't feel any urgency to do so until I started dating, and oddly, I didn't really date at all until my senior year. I was a late bloomer, an odd, skinny kid with a constant smile, wanting everyone to like me, covering up a lot of anxiety and family turmoil. The walking dissipated a lot of the nervous energy I was bursting with. I walked, I sang, I prayed. I sorted out my teenaged miseries, in all weathers and every season.

Even the rain doesn't much bother me. It's just wet, and forty minutes of it won't kill you, at least not this close to civilization. Dry clothes at the end of a cold, wet walk are an invigorating comfort. But today there was none of that. It was as mild and pleasant as a late October day gets, just a little crisp. I walked through the golf course and the fairways are lush and green and the leaves of the birch trees have turned a lovely shade of yellow, and walking the seventh fairway I wished I were rich enough to buy the place and play every afternoon. Are there any two colors as lovely as green and yellow, particularly together? They are so soothing to the eye, the colors of peaceful places and perfect autumn afternoons.

I rode the train to 102nd and Burnside and walked a few more blocks to the gym and had a vigorous and satisfying workout, and I decided to reward myself with an ample and pleasant meal. I decided I'd go to the Hometown Buffet, ironically two doors down from the gym, a palace of obesity next to the sanctuary of fitness. Jesus said no man could serve two masters, but I'm a devotee of both leg extensions and unlimited cinnamon rolls, an unabashed celebrant of both these schools of singular faith.

The food at the buffet is surprisingly good. The steaks are hot off the grill, tender, seared and charred perfectly, and I filled two plates with potatoes and onions, green beans, stuffing, corn on the cob and cooked carrots. Simple, good food, hot and comforting. I ate till I was full and stopped still comfortable, washed it down with 3 glasses of cherry coke. In heaven there must be rivers of cherry coke, and everyone has a golf course to walk, and a free afternoon to play it. Maybe in heaven I won't stub my drives off the heel of my three wood, or at least not so often. Here on earth I limited myself to one small cinammon roll and a one-inch square of fudge, and walked home happier than I'd been in months.

As I began my walk home in a light jacket and my new warm winter gloves, it occurred to me that I eat too many meals alone. This is a direct result of my habits and failure to honor friendships and keep my family close, I know, but in the last quarter of my life I want to change this. A meal ought to be enjoyed with conversation. That's the natural state of humankind, the way we were meant to live. I am too solitary, too set in my own habits and stubborn rituals and eggregious independence. We aren't meant to live like that. Over the next few years I have to cultivate some new habits and new associations and join the circle of other people in a more meaningful way, or I will die in despair and regret. I'm not being maudlin: those are the simple facts. We were meant to be connected, to share, to join, to have communion in the deepest sense. In the past most of my best energies for reaching out have been saved for chasing girls. I caught a few, and enjoyed the chase, but there is more to life than chasing girls or a buck. We need to belong, and need to take time to celebrate the belonging, day by day. I'll have to give some thought to this, and devote some energy to making some real change.

It's a blessing to visit with you each evening, and a start toward the best life I can envision. I am grateful you took time.