Traverse City Record-Eagle

Kathy Gibbons: Northern Living

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October 10, 2009

Kathy Gibbons: Roadside determination

By KATHY GIBBONS

When I first saw him, it was early evening. I was on my way home and in the distance, could see the outline of a tall man walking on the rocky shoulder of what is a busy road.

Slowly, steadily, he moved. He was wearing shorts, and as I got closer, I realized that his limbs below the knees were too skinny. Steel prosthetics, both legs.

He had to have been traversing some distance, away from the neighborhoods as he was. I walk all the time, and know how uneven gravel shoulders can be. I wondered if that wasn't difficult, and admired his determination.

From the distance, and as fit as he looked, I guessed him to be in his 40s. Learning to adapt to injuries post-war, I surmised. I thought about going back and asking if he might talk to me for this column, then decided he should be able to walk in peace. Leave him alone.

Two days later, he was walking again. Same area, same gravel shoulder, only mid-afternoon now. He moved with steady focus, one step at a time. How much simpler -- and private -- it would be for him to walk on a treadmill, I thought, or even around a paved subdivision street. The fact that he was here, on this highway, again, in shorts when the weather had cooled enough that he should be wearing long pants and no one would be able to see and wonder at what he is dealing with spoke volumes, I thought.

Once again, I contemplated stopping to see if he would be willing to be interviewed and decided against it. But if I see him one more time, I told myself, I will.

The next morning, a Saturday, around 8:15, he was there again. This time, I doubled back, parked and walked his way.

In situations like this, I make it clear from the get-go that I'm not trying to intrude, and will go away immediately if there is no interest in an article, even anonymously. As he approached, I could see he was older than I'd guessed -- maybe 65 or 70.

I told him that I'm a freelance writer for the paper, had seen him walking several times that week and wondered how he would feel about being interviewed.

Shaking his head, he said he knows that newspapers need to tell stories, but he didn't want anything like that. I thanked him and apologized for the interruption.

Then we both went on our way -- I in my car, and him, on the side of the road, framed by the morning sunlight, taking one determined step forward at a time.

Kathy Gibbons can at gibbonskath@yahoo.com. For more of Kathy's columns, log on to record-eagle.com/kathygibbons.

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