I now interrupt your regularly scheduled programming…

…Why, you ask? Because a certain story of American gusto has taken the nation by storm. And, well, I am not totally buying the narrative.

By now, we’ve all heard the heart warming story. 56-year-old James Robertson walks over 21 miles to work…5 days a week…for 10 years. Let me repeat that. Mr. Robertson has walked over 21 miles to work for 10 years. After his car gave out on him over a decade ago, this man did what he needed to do in order to remain gainfully employed. In the process, the job became his life.

 

The sheer time and effort of getting to work has ruled Robertson’s life for more than a decade, ever since his car broke down. He didn’t replace it because, he says, “I haven’t had a chance to save for it.” His job pays $10.55 an hour, well above Michigan’s minimum wage of $8.15 an hour but not enough for him to buy, maintain and insure a car in Detroit.

Is this job really worth it? I mean, walking that far every Monday through Friday! Why not just quit?

“I can’t imagine not working,” he says.

Okay, so this man is no taker. He exemplifies the idea that a man who won’t work won’t eat. Right?

Robertson’s 23-mile commute from home takes four hours.

He also seems to understand that anything worth having might be difficult to obtain and keep. The four-hour journey to keep a $10.55/hour job practically yells commitment. Right? And his employers speak very highly of him. His manager speaks of Mr. Robertson as a model employee.

“I set our attendance standard by this man,” says Todd Wilson, plant manager at Schain Mold & Engineering. “I say, if this man can get here, walking all those miles through snow and rain, well I’ll tell you, I have people in Pontiac 10 minutes away and they say they can’t get here — bull!”

I know what you’re thinking. What exactly is the issue? What can be said other than the fact that Mr. Robertson’s actions are the embodiment of what we think of as American Spirit? His story is remarkable. I find that there are, indeed, a few remarkable things about this story. (Spoiler Alert: American spirit doesn’t make my list.)

Topping the list, of course, is James Robertson. In my view, this is not a case of American can-do spirit. In fact, America plays little to no role here save setting and nationality. This a case of a remarkably determined man doing remarkable things in order to survive. The triumph or victory (if you call it that) belongs solely to the man himself. His grit, his determination, his perseverance, and his commitment make him a man to be respected and admired.

Secondly, I find it remarkable that so many Americans read his story, recognized his actions, and responded. According to  USA Today, over $230,000 has been raised on behalf of Mr. Robertson. That number is expected to rise.  I was pretty sure that there were still good people in the world, and the response reaffirmed that belief.

Finally, I find it remarkably disheartening that this story, while touching and inspiring, is not unique. My life has allowed me to experience many, many James Robertsons. I grew up in a community where this type of feel-good story was the norm. I have witnessed single mothers walk to work after death, divorce, or abandonment removed fathers from homes. I have witnessed married women walk similarly exhaustive treks in order to supplement the father’s income so that the family could make ends meet. I have witnessed fathers walking from home to Job 1, then Job 2, and sometimes Job 3 before walking home again.

Circumstances of birth, I suppose, make these people good Americans. In my eyes, they are simply good people. And therein lies my issue…this nation is full of good people doing remarkable things on a daily basis. Not in an effort to be labeled “good Americans”, but because they must be done. The stories of James Robertson and countless others make me wonder why Americans can’t see the economic failure embedded within the feel-good.

But… I return you to your regularly scheduled programming…

Wanderlust & Nostalgia

The sound of steady rain from tropical storm Andrea is the current soundtrack of my life, and I feel more mellow today. I thought of writing about politics, but I want to remember how beautiful this country is right now.

I find myself nostalgic and full of wanderlust. Being stationed in Florida, my heart yearns to go west.

But I want to go. Fuel prices and responsibility be damned, I want to feel the wind in my hair and the Pacific at my feet once again.

Alas, I am stuck here. So I close my eyes and remember that time when I was able to traverse the country fairly freely.

I hiked the Olympic Mountains of Washington State, a lush, gorgeous rainforest. As we hiked up to the snow-covered peaks, crossing rapid rivers of snow-melt and rain, we watched our step. The slugs out there are huge and plentiful.

I stared off at the Grand Tetons and at Jackson Lake, where I found a boat with my name and middle initial docked—just as it’s been since I first traveled there in 1982.

I’ve spent meaningful time in 47 states (Sorry to have missed you, North Dakota, Hawaii, and Alaska).  I’m not talking about changing planes in Los Angeles. I lived and breathed in these places. I’m talking about driving on back roads, getting out and exploring the Cathedral of the Plains, hearing (and feeling) the hum and vibrations of the turbines at the Hoover Dam, chasing rainbows in Colorado, discovering Sioux City, South Dakota has a surprising amount of street art, and staring out at a dry but green plain in Utah, realizing it was the last place the Donner party gathered before it became infamous.

(That last one—that’s actually a rest area with small, unassuming historic sign to inform you of the significance of the place. Suddenly, the quiet green span of land looked intimidating.)

I just saw Django Unchained, and my attention was drawn to the geography. “That’s not Tennessee or Texas!” I said to the screen. “That’s Wyoming!”

I waited until the end of the credits—it was Wyoming. What a dumb thing to do, pretend that the mountains of Wyoming are in the South.

(If you’ve seen them, then yes, you know this is a dumb and distracting thing.)

Do yourself the favor and explore this country as much as possible. Go east, go south. Head northwest. Go.

You don’t have to go far from home or spend lots of money. If you travel a mere 20 miles from your home, you’ll find something of beauty or historic importance you didn’t know was there.