till death do us part

his day begins by scanning the local obituaries. the photo of a 30-something-year-old man with pink hair catches his attention so he clicks on the link for more information.

why did he die so young? what was he like? he finds an answer to the second question, but not the first.

after reading the obituary the man leans back to take it all in. it is one of the most unique death notices he has ever read. two lines are especially interesting.

the first is this: the deceased was a “misanthropic friend of many.”

the man thinks he knows what the “m” word means but googles it to make sure.

“a person who hates or dislikes mankind.”

the irony of someone being a misanthropic friend of many is intriguing. surely those who knew him miss him, and those who did not wish they did.

know him, that is.

but the last line is equally unique.

“he lived with circus folk and communed with animals.”

after sharing a link to the obituary with his spouse, the man finds himself in an odd place: he is thrilled at the writer’s wordsmithing yet grieves at having never met the deceased

time passes, but not too much. he re-reads the obituary. it is just as sad and compelling the second time around.

“you ready to go?”

“oh, yeah. sorry. duh.”

he stands up and he and his wife walk out the door to embark on their daily quest in search of 6,000+ steps. after navigating their long gravel driveway to the top of the hill they stop to discuss the morning’s route.

“you want to do becker lodge road?”

“sure.”

and so, their adventure begins.

even though they do not know what this journey will bring, they do know this: the walkers are living their lives the best they know how, grateful for another day. both are painfully aware that each of their life stories will eventually be found in the local obituaries.

and after their death notices are read, most people will move on as if nothing happened.

it is a hot and muggy morning, but the couple’s chosen path boasts a fair amount of shade. thus, the forecast is for a pleasant walk together exploring the backroads of rural missouri. since there are no sidewalks the couple walks in the street.

as always, they are holding hands. hers in his, and his in hers.

a car passes as they walk. a few minutes later another does the same.

“did you notice both drivers had their windows open and waved?”

“yeah, i did.”

the conversation is short-lived, for there is a lot going on and much to savor. the purring of cicadas and birds fills them with hope. best of all, their bodies are performing magnificently: hearts beating, lungs breathing and legs churning.

it is a good day, one not to be taken for granted.

minutes come and minutes go. they walk and life happens.

as they descend a steep hill, the couple sees movement at the red house on the left. the “for sale” sign is gone and there are two vehicles parked in the driveway. one of them is a truck with the words, “direct tv” on the driver’s side door. a man is on the roof maneuvering a satellite dish into place.

if he hears or sees them, he does not let on. the man bends over, grunts and drags the dish to the desired location.

“i guess the new owners have moved in.”

“yeah. cable tv. home sweet home.”

after passing the house in anonymity, each of them returns to their own thoughts. some are important and others are trivial. some stay for a while and others leave quickly. all are welcome and entertained.

up one hill, then down the other side. the road bends to the right and then to the left. wherever it leads the walkers go. it is both mesmerizing and addictive.

their daydreams are interrupted by the sound of a super duty diesel-powered truck approaching from the other side of the hill in front of them. when it finally appears, they see a white ford in a hurry. the driver sees the couple, slows down and the truck rolls to a stop next to them.

tom is driving and a woman is sitting next to him.

“how are you guys doing?”

“good. real good, thanks.”

“i haven’t seen you two in a long time. i thought maybe you moved.”

“oh no. still here, still around.”

the other then explains their recent absence.

“i hurt my ankle, so we haven’t been out and about too much lately.”

“that happens when you get old.”

“yeah, tell me about it.”

all three laugh, but then silence arrives as it often does. for they are friendly, but not friends. the couple knows his name, but he does not know theirs. to him, they’re simply “the walkers.”

“well, i’ll see you later.”

“take it easy, tom.”

the truck disappears around a corner and the rumble of the diesel engine eventually goes away. when it does, the purring of cicadas and birds returns. it is nice to have company, but the quiet afterwards is always appreciated.

“that must have been his wife.”

“yeah, i think it was.”

“we don’t know her name, do we?”

“no. we’ve never been introduced.”

life continues to unfold all around them, most of it in the form of trees and the occasional house. after a few minutes one of them breaks the silence to make an observation.

“he intimidates me.”

“yeah, me too. and yet i like him.”

“me too…he has a strong sense of right and wrong.”

“yeah.”

after reflecting on his partner’s observation, the other decides to offer a pertinent point himself.

“he reminds me of the marlboro man.”

“yeah…only with a strong sense of right and wrong.”

the screech of a blue jay makes both turn and peer into the woods to their left. they hear the bird but do not see it. the sound is loud and intrusive.

“seeing tom reminds me of the bumper sticker we saw yesterday in town.”

“oh yeah…i think i know the one you mean: ‘i miss my america.’”

“yeah, that’s the one. you know, i kind of feel the same way.”

“me too.”

the screech of the blue jay ends as quickly as it began and is replaced by the barking of an incoming dog. they turn to see it sprinting straight at them from a nearby house. the owner is standing in the driveway and appears helpless to prevent what appears to be imminent.

“rufus! rufus! come here, boy! come here!”

there is urgency in his voice. he knows the brown german shepherd mix views the walkers as threats.

the dog gets close, too close. now in the street, it circles them once and then a second time. each bark brings a gust of hot air and spittle to their lower legs.

one of the walkers slowly pushes out the back of his right hand as a peace offering. while this tactic has previously worked with aggressive dogs, this one is not interested in de-escalation. in fact, the gesture has the opposite effect.

the animal lunges at the man’s outstretched hand, but for some reason decides not to take a bite. it is a canine warning shot, one which accomplishes its purpose: try that again and you will get bit.

“rufus! rufus! come here, boy! come here!”

the owner knows his dog well enough to know something bad is about to happen.

despite being unnerved, the couple instinctively employs another tactic to avoid confrontation. they turn in unison to face the owner’s land and walk slowly in that direction. the dog follows, still barking, but the man is now close enough to finally get the animal’s attention.

“rufus! come here, you bastard! come here!”

perhaps fearing the wrath of its owner, the dog finally stops barking and begins moving in the direction of his voice. but it is a reluctant retreat, and the animal is growling and staring at the walkers. it is clear rufus is not fond of any human who does not provide a daily provision of food and water.

“i really need to put a collar on that dog.”

the walkers smile in the man’s direction as if to answer and say “thanks.” but he avoids eye contact, puts his head down, turns and walks towards the house with the dog at his side.

after putting some distance between them and the bastard, it is now safe for the couple to debrief about what just happened.

“now we know somebody else on the street: rufus…of course, we don’t know the man’s name…”

“that’s ok.”

“yeah, it is.”

as the two turn a sharp bend in the road they see tom’s farmhouse on the right. the heavy metal gates in front are closed and locked with a shiny new chain. there are two large wooden signs leaning against the front of the house. one says, “welcome” and the other “freedom.”

the cicadas and birds are still humming, and the pursuit of shade keeps pulling them to one side of the street and then the other. naturally, they both return to the comings and goings of whatever may occupy their minds at any given moment.

they both feel free and welcome.

when the walkers reach the end of becker lodge road, they turn around, hand in hand, and begin the return trip back home.

even though it is hotter and muggier than when they began, there is still plenty of shade to be had. the trees are plentiful and the houses few.

when they reach rick and jean’s place, they see one of their dogs in the front yard. it is a large, black and white well-groomed animal. even though they have forgotten its name the couple remembers the first time they met when it was still a puppy. the walkers found it wandering alone in the street so one of them picked the dog up and carried it back to the safety of its owners’ yard.

“hey buddy!”

“hey boy, how are you doing?”

the dog barks and keeps its distance. while the couple are not foes to the animal, they are not friends either.

the walkers stop to admire the dog from afar. it is sitting in the front yard watching them closely.

“good dog!”

“what a good boy!”

despite the verbal encouragement to come over and say hi, the animal decides to stay put. as they turn a corner, each of them look back to catch one last look at the dog. it is sitting in the front yard staring at them.

curious, but cautious. kind of like the walkers, at least some of the time.

“i wish we had a dog.”

“yeah, me too.”

they pass tom’s house on the way back home. the front gate is still locked, and the “welcome” and “freedom” signs are still on the front porch.

even though the walkers are retracing their steps, everything seems different because they see it from a new perspective. at the same time, everything remains as it was. different, but not really.

they both still feel welcome and free.

“you know, we always say we want a dog…but after a while we’d get tired of having to let it go outside, feeding it, taking it to the vet…”

“yeah…sooner or later we’d get tired of it.”

“yeah, we would…but i still like the idea of a dog.”

“me too.”

“maybe even a cat.”

“yeah, a cat would be fun too.”

it is a conversation they have had many times, and each time they reach the same conclusion.

as they pass the recently sold house, they see the direct tv satellite dish sitting upright on the corner of the roof. the installer and his truck are gone.

“the new owners are probably inside watching cable.”

“i bet you’re right. do you think they have tcm?”

“i don’t know.”

the conversation ends when the couple sees a young teenage boy working in a vegetable garden. he bends over, picks a tomato off a vine and places it gently in a basket. then he stands up, takes a step forward, bends over and does the same thing.

as the walkers approach, the boy glances up and slowly lifts one of his hands to give a quick wave. the couple waves back, but the boy has already bent over in search of another tomato ripe for the picking.  

but that is ok, for there is still a lot going on and much to savor: trees, an occasional house and thoughts that come and go. best of all, their bodies are performing magnificently: hearts beating, lungs breathing and legs churning.

it is a good day, one not to be taken for granted.

minutes come and minutes go. they walk and life happens.

“did you read that obituary i sent you?”

“yeah, i did. i love the irony of someone being misanthropic and a friend at the same time.”

“i know! and the last line was just as good: ‘he lived with circus folk and communed with animals.’”

“he really sounds like he was an interesting person. i wish i could have known him.”

“me too.”

she squeezes his hand, and he returns the favor.