When I started this walking thing back in April soon after maple season, it was because I wanted to continue my exercise program. Hurriedly carrying five gallon buckets of sap every evening for several weeks left me feeling better and stronger. I knew it would be good to continue moving. As an additional incentive, my brother-in-law Henry, who is not much younger than me, was working up to his first full marathon - a goal he accomplished this past spring. That inspires me. I can at least walk a few miles most days.
A lot of folks enjoy going to the gym, or the Y, or to the sidewalks of Kidron. Not me. Nothing wrong with surrounding yourself with other people. But walking alone in the countryside - lost in thoughts - that’s where introverted souls like me are refreshed and energized. The hard walking up and down the hills, the rapid breathing of the invigorating outdoor air - this is exercise at its best. And when we exercise, our body is releasing endorphins into the bloodstream. Endorphins are the good guys. They give you a lift mentally and physically.
I did walk into town one time to see the rubble of the Kidron Elementary School. They tore both buildings down. Nearly all the good Swiss children and adults around Kidron have some fond memories of that place. As an import into this community, I have none - except for one story that an old gentleman told me many years ago - and it sticks in my memory like gum on the bottom of a shoe.
He told me about a time long ago when the Kidron School’s rest rooms were outhouses. One for the boys and one for the girls. At recess the boys would sometimes go behind the little building and have peeing contests. One Nussbaum boy could pee all the way over the outhouse. (He’s long departed, God rest his soul) Boys do this type of thing, you know. Girls may be huddled together, whispering about the boys, and thinking about kissing. But the boys aren't there yet. They’re out back somewhere, lining up to see who can pee the farthest.
On this particular day, as I strode up the sidewalk to see the rubble, there stood Bobby Haas in front of Kidron Pizza, eating an ice cream cone. The pizza shop sells those too.
Good old Bobby. He just turned sixty-one. He’s been deaf since he was a baby, and after spending his first nineteen or twenty years at the Apple Creek Developmental Center, he moved to Kidron to live with a loving family. To his knowledge, he had no other family. That all changed about thirty years later when his real siblings discovered him. They thought their brother Robert had died as an infant. An amazing story.
I've worked at the same place as Bobby for over thirty-five years now. He is the ultimate extrovert - loving everyone. He doesn't know it, but he’s taught me a lot about life. Truth is, he’s taught a lot of people a whole lot about life - if we’re observant enough to notice how it is possible to overcome the obstacles and live a happy life.
Something told me Bobby would follow me on the walk, but today I hoped he wouldn't. He did anyway. A backwards glance revealed a hurrying Bobby trying to catch up. It was rude of me, but I was hoping to walk alone. Bobby is very animated and “talkative”, and will continue pantomiming and signing until you “get it”. The problem is, sometimes you never do. You just finally have to nod your head with a confident smile and hope he thinks you understand. This process takes time and energy, and I wasn't feeling it today. He caught up with me just as I reached the rubble. We stood there together looking at the piles. He looked really sad. With a frown on his face, he shook his head and waved his arms, and tried to ask me what happened. All I could do was shrug my shoulders and try to look as downcast as he appeared. It would be impossible to explain.
I needed to head for home then, and Bobby traipsed along beside me. Don’t get me wrong; I love Bobby. We’re about the same age, and I “talk” with him a lot. We share coffee-time together nearly every morning at our workplace as he shows me the obituaries in the Daily Record. That’s his thing. He often knows someone who died. He points to their picture and looks really sad as he crosses his wrists over his chest.
Bobby dropped from our walk when we reached his driveway, and I hurried on down the hill past Kidron Pizza, the Post Office, Village Printing, the Amish furniture business, the Fire Department, and Quince Bakery. Made a left on Emerson - up over the hill - and swung to the right on Jericho, hoping to speak with no one else. That’s one of the reasons I like the Zuercher Road route.
But here’s the thing. For the most part, Zuercher Road is quiet, except for the occasional car and a couple buggies. But on the days when others are out walking, I have met neighbors that I would have only waved at while driving by in a car. These unplanned meetings naturally initiate conversations that otherwise would not happen. And in the midst of these neighborly how-do-you-dos, you find out that you live in a wonderful place among wonderful people. Kidron, Ohio - a little ten-horse town where the sturdy Swiss men are homely, but industrious. The women are robust and beautiful, with flour on their aprons and homemade bread in the oven. And the children will be home for Christmas.
To all our friends and loved ones, we wish you a Christmas season filled with great joy - a time to reflect on the best gifts - gifts of life, family, peace of mind, eternal hope – all because of a babe named Jesus.
The perfect gift.
No comments:
Post a Comment