Why We Walk

Crankies #1 and #2 have been able to receive state-funded educations only because they can walk to school. It's not like it's the Long March or anything--it's only four blocks. They have been driven on occasions that involve driving rain or science projects. Yet in the main, they walk. With umbrellas, with puffy coats, with hurriedly collected gloves, with bare feet on the way home.
C2 required some encouragement as she began her commute to kindergarten. In fairness, she started in a merciless August. The outbound trip at 7:30 a.m. generally was fine, but the inbound trip, in the heat of the afternoon, was not. She would say, in so many words, "It's too freaking hot," and then sit down on the curb. Soon she began trolling the parking lot for friendly faces behind the wheel. When she saw friends in the back seat, often she'd just open their doors and climb in. More than once, we received travelers' aid after being able to complete only 2.5 blocks of our journey.

Spring, however, is a different story. If you didn't feel like skipping when you left the house, the spirit probably will move you when you see the neighbors' iris bed--an impressive swath across the entire front of their lot. The climbing roses on the fence in Block 3 also merit significant attention and tend to pick up the pace. Kitties, sidewalk construction crews, men with interesting ties. It's all good.

Many of the Crankies' classmates walk to school, and they are passed by a fair number of small people on bicycles. The cul-de-sac beyond the Crankies' domicile, however, seems to be a bridge too far. Four blocks, apparently, is the outer limit of walkability, since the neighbors two doors down have learned to read only with the help of fossil fuels. One kind neighbor recently helped out with transportation issues when a family needed a hand. And, being the altruistic type, she kindly offered Meta Cranky a ride home after children were deposited. Sinking into the depths of some fine GM upholstery, MC heard her neighbor ask, "Do you walk because you want to?" MC tried out several answers in her head. No, I walk because I've turned the two Toyotas in my driveway into planters. No, I walk so I can smell my neighbors' tailpipe emissions. MC finally came up with something like, "I'd rather not deal with the traffic at the school. That's why I walk."

Herr Cranky, of course, formulated the diplomatic-yet-honest answer. Next time, he suggested, MC could say, "I walk so I can meet my neighbors." Of course he's right. Would the Crankies have had first dibs at the take-it-it's-free buffet in Block 2 if they had driven a Buick to school? Nope. Instead, they scored a dozen bottles of Opi nail polish in some rather metabolic colors. From her carseat, would C2 have chatted up the guy standing next to the excavated water pipe in Block 3 to suss out his wife's name? It's the same as C2's! What a coincidence!

On one trip home, the Crankies chatted with a neighbor on the not-sidewalk side of the street. Since the house stands up the side of a hill, with no sidewalk in front, C2 had not previously lingered in this neighbor's yard, climbed her steps, or complimented her flowers. As C2 explored this new territory, this neighbor shared her knowledge of long-ago Austin, which she had observed from her perch in Block 2 for 70 years. During the chat, Block 2 Neighbor started making connections: "Your husband walked your other daughter to school, didn't he?" Yes, until C1 moved on to middle school, the outbound trip had belonged exclusively to Herr Cranky. Block 2 Neighbor had, apparently, watched C1 grow up during these daily walks, and mused about her own walks with her own father. MC briefly flashed on Boo Radley's intimate observations of neighborhood children, but Block 2 Neighbor wasn't creepy, and she didn't look at all like Robert Duvall. B2N's observation just emphasized: the Crankies have been walking to school since the first George W. Bush administration. They're practically an institution.

Spring weather means that outbound morning walks can be nippy, while inbound afternoon walks are, like Mary Poppins, Practically Perfect in Every Way. With weather like this, the Crankies expect fabulous things, and often they get them. Here are the results of one walk home:

Block 1: Help a neighbor's son wash a car. Squirt water on your feet.
Block 2: Run to catch up with Walking Mom and ask her why she's not walking her dogs. Check on rose bushes.
Block 3: Move the ducks at the dog-watering station. Then run to get to the swing in Block 4.
C2 rounds a corner and is no longer in MC's line of vision. MC enters Moderate State of Alert.
Block 4: Block 2 Neighbor rounds corner and, looking back at C2 on swing, says to MC, "Oh, there you are."

After walking to school for almost an entire school year, C2 is something of an expert on how it's done. Her considered analysis is this: "Sometimes when it's winter and fall, you go slow. And sometimes when it's spring and summer, you go a little fast."
--MC