CENTIPEDES WITH LIGHTED FEET....

I live in a bedroom community. 

By that I mean I live in a suburban area like hundreds of others throughout the country, which has an original town consisting of four or more square blocks over a hundred years old for its roots, but it no longer supports any business or industry.  Therefore, most of the residents leave every day to drive elsewhere for work and then commute home ten to twelve hours later.  That generates an almost constant stream of traffic out of and into our little town, the heaviest of which you can imagine happens in the early morning and the early evening.  (In the East these people would be on commuter trains like when we lived in Saratoga Springs, New York, where I first heard the designation of "bedroom community".)

I know because I am often right there in the thick of it every morning that I wake up in Johnstown.  But...I am not in my car.  I experience it when I walk out of my Carlson Farm neighborhood and along Highway 60 to the I-25 Interchange and back. 

Early morning dark is not scary.  It is actually very peaceful and studded with a starry, starry sky if I get out of bed soon enough to experience that beautiful pre-dawn reminder given to Moses and Abraham about the numberless stars in the heavens. It is a wonderful time to praise God for His glorious creations and have heartfelt communion with Him...even though literally hundreds of cars whoosh past me on their daily journey.  I am in a reverie of my own.  (But...be assured I am not unaware of my surroundings as I walk.)

About four-thirty to five a.m. the procession driving west starts out as a trickle but quickly turns into a literal wave of vehicles carrying their occupants to diverse locations of employment.  The east bound lanes are relatively quiet until six a.m. when the people who run the schools, the McDonalds' employees, the workers who are building new homes, and the professionals in the doctor and dentist offices begin to arrive for their daily occupations.  Then the traffic in both directions is heavy and constant.

When I get to the Interchange stop light, I turn around and head east.  (It was at this point I used to say to D. R., "Well, we got ourselves here.  Now we better get ourselves home.")

And that's when I see a virtual miles-long centipede with lighted feet creeping out of Johnstown proper four miles away and descend into a small valley before making the steady climb up the last little hill to I-25. 

It's quite a sight to see!  And it never fails to bring a smile to my face at the display of so much horse power which literally looks like a centipede with lighted feet against a backdrop of the sun's first rays announcing another gloriously beautiful day in the Mountain West.

There are days I am grateful for the treadmill down the basement, but that's not REALLY an experience.  It's just marking time and steps.  My walking outside--starting in 1986 when President Rockwood asked the Arvada Stake RS Presidency to teach the sisters that "Fit doesn't mean NOT fat", and I had to make myself do something first to improve my health before I could ask the sisters to do the same--has become a source of personal satisfaction on many levels.

People I know--and don't know--honk and wave.  Some have stopped to introduce themselves.  And others have asked me to look for items that they have lost along that route for some reason.  I have found driver's licenses, an insurance card, and homework assignments which I have been able to return to their owners by mail.  Other items like keys, CDs, etc. I have had no way to know to whom they belonged.  So, they remained where I discovered them.

In spite of the fact some have expressed concern that I walk along a busy road, it has all the safety earmarks we learned at United to keep us safe when we are out and about on a layover:  well-lighted and well-peopled.  Plus, I am well-"reflected" with my safety vest, safety jacket, and safety pullover shirt for summer.  So, I am well-seen, too.

I kid the people at Church that they would probably never have the opportunity to be "The Good Johnstownian" because anyone needing help at the side of the road out on Highway 60 would be first seen by me.  That's my domain.  Here is where I observe the earth at eye-level.  I am aware of the first plowing and planting.   I watch the fields turn green.  I note the growth of the corn and eagerly anticipate when the ears tassel.  I await the harvesting and the final combing of each acre in preparation for it's long winter nap.  I love seeing the seasons come and go in this way.

All of this gives me a kind of ownership and a satisfying euphoria.  By the time I walk into the front door at Sweetbriar, I feel like I have visited with friends and have already accomplished something for the day ahead.  It's a great start.

Best of all I like it when people at Church and in our little community say to me, "I always see you out walking."  Yep!  That would be me!