Where do I begin, where should I start? It’s usually a fairly important question, whether it is the start of a recipe, a formula, a process, a walk to the park or a change of life. When it comes to a change of life, it must start somewhere, but that start is often elusive and it’s very easy to postpone, for it often involves some tough decisions. We make choices all day long about whether to start something and how to start it. If we are given several options, we have to decide which we think is the best one, and then decide again on when to start. I have made some pretty major life changes, and these changes enabled me to do what I did today. I’ll get back to that, but for the last three days, I’ve been asking myself, and struggling with the answer, to “where do I begin, how should I start to describe one of the coolest and most significant days of my life?”
There was also a little complication here, as there always tends to be. On day one of this little walk, I used the word overwhelming to describe what was happening. When something is so overwhelming, people become overwhelmed. Saturday I was simply overwhelmed, and it’s taken a couple of days for my old Salomon’s to touch the Manhattan ground. And I really didn’t know where to start, this time because there is so much to say, unlike those few nights someplace between Zilker and Central when I drew a complete blank.
I’ll start with the most incredible walk I’ve ever taken, from Alpine NJ to Strawberry Fields, NY. It started off early, for it was really the first day since I left that I was actually on a schedule. All my stupid fears about getting through New Jersey had already been laid to rest, and I found myself in the Palisades Interstate Park, along the western shore of the Hudson River reflecting the very bright morning sun, The Universe had laid out the perfect day for me; it was in the low fifties, gentle breeze, perfect place to walk along a wooded road. There were bicyclists, a few walkers, and of course that morning they all waved back. Thankfully, New Jersey and New York were very nice about keeping the fall leaves on their tress until I got here, and some of the most spectacular colors were along this stretch, only a few miles from the end.
By design, I walked those 8.5 miles alone, though I was very much looking forward to finding a little bit of family and some friends at the bridge. For the first four or five miles, I could have been walking along any one of the rivers of my journey. The only giveaway was the skyline in Yonkers, mostly hidden by the trees. And then I saw the bridge! I should have checked my Garmin, for I’m sure my heartbeat went up significantly. It was very exciting to watch it grow as I got closer and closer. Yonkers turned to Upper Manhattan, separated by only a really wide river. It was one of the best moments of my life, one of several that day.
By now, the bridge that once only peered through the trees had taken over the landscape, and I was so ready to cross it. I had visualized this hundreds of times. I was here. I had made it. I was about to walk over the George Washington Bridge. And guess what? It was totally different than I expected (Lesson 497!). Some of it was close, but I never anticipated the level of excitement and satisfaction I would feel. I really wanted to slow down, stop, take in the moment, and I did for a bit, but this time there were people waiting. Part of the universe’s perfect plan was the eight perfect songs that played for those twenty minutes; all were very significant and appropriate, from several life stages off a huge playlist, selected at random (or was it?) Finally at the base of the bridge, I still had to loop up and around to the pedestrian bridge, all uphill, and I think it was probably the fastest mile I’ve walked since August! But there I was, on schedule, safe and sound, content as ever.
Nearby, at a McDonald’s, were Thomas, my favorite son, and Isabela, one of my two favorite daughters. Unfortunately, my other favorite daughter Alexandra couldn’t make it, but will be coming up soon. And there was Bob (remember Bob from day one?), James and Jose. They thought I was going to meet them there, but I thought differently. I’d be damned if I was going to first see them after three months at McDonald’s, so instead I secretly arranged for a mid-bridge meeting, much to their frustration. I got them going in the right direction, made sure they were on the right path, and then took off onto the bridge, walking away from them. I stopped after a few minutes and waited, and there, mid-GWB, I was very happily together again with me kids, who I’m sure sighed a huge breath of relief. I doubt any of us will forget that awesome moment.
And over towards Harlem we went, negotiating a lot of cyclists and pedestrians. I tripped once, a little one, the twelfth and last time in well over three million steps. Not too bad. I put my intimidating walking sticks away, lest they be mistaken for a rifle or assault weapon, which happens you know? And we walked together, and unless I look at my walking stats, I have no idea what route we took. I had handed the reins over to James, the local, with a request to lead us to the northwest corner of Central Park. After about 65 blocks, there we were, on schedule to arrive in Strawberry Fields at 2:00 PM. But not before getting mugged. A couple of days prior, I had been in touch with Alex, a friend studying for his doctorate at Columbia, son of Rolando who kindly came to Memphis to see me back when, and brother of Danny, who I saw in Knoxville. We had loosely planned to stage a mugging - he would run up, pretend to assault me, and then we would all laugh when everyone realized it was staged. So somewhere near Columbia, this big dude runs up to me, wraps his arms around both me and my backpack and spins me around, full 360. The truth is, I had kinda forgotten about our plan, was completely lost in the moment, and for a split second, I was terrified, until I remembered and saw Alex’s face. Lesson 498… don’t mess with that stuff, not even jokingly. I deserve to have been terrified, having walked this far without incident. We had a laugh or two, but perhaps it should have been about something else. And through the park we continued. I would have been early, one of the few times in my life, except for a full bladder situation, and that’s a little more complicated in Central Park than in Central Texas. The last dozen or so blocks we walked along Central Park West, a walk I’ve done many times before, but for some odd reason, this time was particularly special :). At seventy second street, I turned back into the park, and towards Strawberry Fields.
Strawberry Fields it seems is always crowded. People come from all over the world to pay homage to John, his music, his person, his relentless search for his own and our collective Peace. It is a magical place, and though we’d all prefer he were still with us today, alive and well in the Dakota across the street, it is a lovely tribute to a very special kind of man. There’s a very good reason a lot of people come here, and Saturday was no exception. It was crowded.
As I walked towards the mosaic, I noticed a group of people coming towards me together, and one asked if I was Peter. I said yes, and she handed me four roses, the first four roses I think I’ve ever received. Doing everything I could to hold it together, we made introductions and started talking. still quite a way from the mosaic. This was not an ordinary group of people. We had kinda sorta loosely met on Facebook, and they were there representing EverWalk Nation, a totally cool group of people around the country who share the love and benefits of walking. And they gave me the ultimate New York reception! I didn’t get to see it for the wind took it away before I arrived, but they wrote my name in rose petals in the center of Strawberry Fields - how incredibly cool is that? I’ll come back to them soon but for now, at the risk of making a mistake or missing someone, I say a collective and very heartfelt thank you to all of you, from the heart you stole! I normally remember names, but I was a tad bit distracted. Once again, it was the kindness of strangers that rose to the top, as it has countless times along the way, further confirming that this is a good world full of very good people.
As I got closer to the mosaic, some familiar faces appeared, the first being my cousin Gail and her two cool kids Anna and Nicolai, in representation of my mom’s side of the family! Thank you! And there was Agustin and Verena from Mexico City, and my new friends from Hungary, and the ladies from London, and then there was Baron.
We walked up to the edge of the mosaic to take some pictures and I took a moment right at the edge to just let it soak in. Right when I stopped, from behind the crowd and noise emerged the first few notes of Imagine, followed of course by the words. I have probably listened to that song thirty times in the last couple of months, every different version available, but never was it as significant as it was at that moment. I lost it, completely overwhelmed by everything. It was Baron singing from a nearby park bench. "You may say I’m a dreamer” (correct), “no need for greed or hunger” (wouldn’t that be nice?), “Imagine all the people. Living life in PEACE”. (Amen).
That was the moment, the culmination of one of the most daring, the hardest, yet most satisfying things I have ever done, and it was, to say the least, incredible. And I was so completely present there, not caring for anything except what I was feeling, all summed up into one word… happy.
We took some pictures, said a few farewells, but no good-byes (I don’t like goodbyes remember?). Anything could have happened later that afternoon and it wouldn’t have mattered. I allowed myself to be swept up into what everyone else wanted to do, which is only fair, for I’ve been doing exactly what I wanted to do for the last three months! So along I went, but I must admit, seeing my backpack on a chair in a little tavern near Central Park made me a little sad. It was very nice to be with my kids again and surrounded by friends, and we had a great rest of the afternoon and evening together. At dinner, I privately recalled a few preceding Saturday nights, some of my better dinners along the way, and occasionally wandered off into the soybean fields, the horse country, the sunsets, the roads. I hope no one noticed, but if they did, I trust they understand.
I’ve also been trying to figure out how to come off this mountain. I have arrived at my destination after one hundred and six incredible days, each a challenge of its own, all compiled into the best three and a half months I have ever lived. I’ve learned to write about them, share them, present them nicely, add some pictures. Now, the last time I checked, I still have a pulse (resting at 63 bpm according to my trusty smartwatch), my body still works, blood pressure has been about 100/70. I can still put one foot in front of the other. I can still think of something and some miraculous process turns it into words, and then another miraculous process instructs my different fingers to press these little squares and instantly the words appear on this glowing glass. As they accumulate, an even more miraculous process allows my eyes to see what the fingers did, and make sure it gibes with the original thought. I can still do that. And, most importantly, my real journey continues and is ongoing and has been greatly enriched by the last three months. So what I’m sayin’ here, in a really long convoluted way, is that this blog will continue for an undefined period of time. I still need to figure out exactly how I’ll do this, but something will be forthcoming, taking advantage of the fact that with pushing a few more of these little squares I can send something to the world, and if anyone chooses to spend a few minutes reading with their morning cup of coffee, they can do just that. It’s that simple, and until someone insists I stop, they shut down the Internet or I find the appropriate stopping point, I shall continue.
And just like that, my walking days was over. Well kinda… specifically, my walking days to Central Park, this time, was over. But as long as I can walk, I will. As long as I can take journeys like this one, I will. And I will continue to walk to the park, the park being any happy place I choose.
Regarding where to start, where to begin… start anywhere you want, but start. That’s what’s important, and it can lead to great and wonderful things.
Just as I finished reading this before posting, I realized I was a few minutes into Thanksgiving Day. How very appropriate. First of all, Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, and I have wonderful memories of the many in Mexico City with my dear family and friends, others with friends when I couldn’t make it home. But what I mostly like is what it’s for, a day set aside to give thanks, though we mustn’t forget to do it any and every day.
And today in particular, I hardly needed to be reminded, for this Thanksgiving I have many many things for which to give thanks, perhaps more than ever. I am here, I am alive, as alive as ever, and I made it here without one single negative encounter, not one. For that I am extremely grateful. I give huge thanks for my children, three of the coolest, unbiased opinion. I am grateful for my body, as odd as that may sound, but it carried me here, complaining only when I did something wrong. I am thankful for my freedom, my freedom to move, to think, to feel, to decide. I am also very thankful for my many friends, and those who helped push me along, or I dragged. I’m thankful for a lot of things today. And to all my hosts, thank you.
But this Thanksgiving, I’m really thankful for all the strangers between Austin and New York who were so kind and generous along my way and made of this walk to the park a stroll. I don’t know the names of the many dozens of people who stopped to offer water, a ride or assistance. I don’t know the names of the thousands of unknowns who waved back at me - what they don’t know is that every wave was a tiny jolt for me, a little reassurance that all is well and good. I don’t know the names of all the people at the hotels, of those who made my food. But for all of them I give thanks, Thanks as well to the strangers who are now friends. I am humbled and amazed by all the kindness I’ve seen, every step of the way, and for this, thank you. Happy Thanksgiving.
Anthem. Embedded without permission!