
In the Mohawk Valley where I grew up, sidewalks mapped my world. In the 1950s, in Amsterdam, New York, Kelly’s Lumberyard, fragrant with freshly cut two by fours, scented my afternoon walk from school to home. Walking, always walking up and down the hills of Amsterdam. From our little white house on Catherine Street, I walked east to the corner of Lenox, then south two blocks to Partyka’s Market on Crane Street for Camels for my father, Lady Betty bread and pimiento loaf for summer lunch sandwiches. I walked west to the corner at Church, then three quarters of a mile downhill to St. Stanislaus Church on Cornell overlooking the mighty Mohawk, its waters sparkling in the sunlight or choking on blocks of winter ice. I walked three blocks south to the corner of Vrooman where Franny waited, books in her arms, then another two blocks to Edson to meet Christine. We three walked south again down Vrooman Avenue to Carolanne’s corner at the lumberyard, and west to Jay Street where Rita, the last in our group, lived. All of us trooped downhill on Church past the mills already half empty. Mohawk Carpet Mills had closed down just a few years before, and the buildings were now a hodgepodge of companies producing swimming pools, fiberglass, basketballs, and men’s uniforms. My mother still worked there, and we would too, in the summers through high school and college. Of course, we walked to work.
I walked to the corner mailbox at Church and Catherine to mail letters to boyfriends in college, my cousin in the Army in Vietnam, birthday cards to friends and relatives. The mailman walked down our street at noon every day but Sunday, his big leather bag over his shoulder, his face and arms tanned year-round.
Walking was not an exercise, then, but a necessity. Then, in the Sixties, almost every family owned a car (just one), and walking was for people who couldn’t afford to drive.
No one really preferred to walk back then, but I longed for it when I lived in the country, on a 45-mile-an-hour state road with no shoulders. I drove to town for groceries, appointments and all the errands of daily life, but I always left time for a walk on the way home. My husband and I retired from full time jobs, and I longed to start walking right outside my door.
You see, I find beauty in the walking as well as in the place. I love the way my body feels moving, my feet pressing down on the earth, comfortable shoes supporting me. My breath deepens in gratitude as I inhale the healing, clean air and the smells of the outdoors. In the park, I inhale the moist fragrance of the pond with its ducks and turtles, the meadow grasses left un-mowed to attract herons and water birds.
Often, my walks become a meditation. I breathe and step consciously, watching the earth, the grass, the birds, the houses, the people and their dogs. As I observe and move along, awareness grows that I, too, am a part of it all.
Ten years ago this summer, we moved close to town in a development with a trail beside a wide creek often visited by geese, ducks and a Great blue heron. Has it come full circle, all this walking? When I was young, I walked to get somewhere. Always on a mission, the end was the reason.
Sometimes a hymn comes to mind: How Can I Keep From Singing. Or even the Shaker hymn, Simple Gifts: “’tis a gift to come round where we ought to be.” As I walk consciously, I come round to where I ought to be, and find it is where I have been all along. I have come, at last, to the here and the now. And I dare to say, it is good.
16 responses to “How Can I Keep From Walking”
Lovely essay.
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Thanks, Peyton!
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Linda, I have similar memories of walking from Belmont Place (Park Hill), over the Pulaski bridge with stinky water below from the paper mills, down Reid Street, where I’d meet up with my (to-be) lifelong friends, Sylvia, then Mary Ann. Sometimes, we’d pick up Jackie, then head down Bell hill to St. Mary’s Institute or Church. Depending-if it was Friday, church. If it was a school day, to SMI! We were healthier for it. I’d like to feel it toughened us up for old age. We are in our 80’s and still kicking-all three at different levels of kicking, but still kicking! Enjoying your posts. Thanks for sharing them.
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Wow, Patricia, I am so happy to learn you are all three still “kicking!” Glad this brought back good memories for you.
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I share your love of walking as well. It is my exercise place, my dreaming place, my away from the crowds peaceful place, and I hope to enjoy it as long as my body allows!
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Good to hear, Linda! Thanks for stopping by.
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“As I walk consciously, I come round to where I ought to be, and find it is where I have been all along. I have come, at last, to the here and the now. And I dare to say, it is good.” These words resonate so deeply as, recently, while looking back through these lockdown months, I have come to your conclusion about my life’s present unfolding. And it is good! Many thanks for writing this and happy, happy walking!
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Good to hear my words resonated, Mary Jo! Happy walking to you, too!
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Here in lovely Bucks County, Pennsylvania my favorite outdoor site to walk is the grounds of the National Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa in Doylestown. Indoors I walk Wegmans warehouse for fun and food. I always enjoy your writing, Linda!
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That’s a beautiful place to walk. Wegman’s is also a good idea but I’m afraid I’d be stopping too often! Thanks for reading!
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I often walked from Wilbur H Lynch to my home on Queen Ann Rd on the south side of Amsterdam. During the summer of 1967 while my parents were on vacation, I walked to my summer factory job at Consolidated Novelty off of Market St.I traversed Queen Ann Rd, Yankee Hill, Florida Ave and up Market St .I loved that walk. I can still smell the wet pavement in the rain and the delicious spaghetti sauce odors emanating from Herk’s Tavern. My favorite part of the walk was the Market St bridge over the Mohawk River. I loved the lilac trees that grew near the New York Central Railroad station. Those were the days before the powers that be demolished historic downtown Amsterdam in the name of ” urban renewal”.
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Oh, Susan, your post brought back sweet memories of the streets of our hometown! When we walk, we really notice those smells – rain, spaghetti sauce – and the lilacs! Yes, urban renewal was such a bad idea. I’m for ‘renewal back to a walkable town.’ Thanks for this. I hope you’re writing more, you’re so good at it!
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Hello Linda: Thank you for your lovely reminiscence. When I was young, I took my bike everyplace — or perhaps I should say my bike took me everyplace. But now, walking is what I do. We are lucky to live near a campus, Oregon State University in Corvallis, that is always welcoming. Of course, the summers are best when the students turn over all the paths and trails to locals. Walking is important to the body and the mind. Thanks for the reminder. –Matilda
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Glad this struck a chord with you, Matilda! I remember biking as a kid, and that had its own rewards. You are indeed lucky to live near a welcoming campus. Happy walking this summer!
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Linda,
This is a beautiful, thoughtful essay. I too, have wonderful memories of walking to school everyday with friends, that are still in my life 50+ years later. (I actually wrote about this in your class!). Kathy started, leaving her Pickering Street home, down Phil Ellena Street to Provident St where Kitty would join her. Then 2 more blocks to Temple Rd where Mary & I would meet them, one more block to Fayette Street where Alma would complete the group. A few more blocks to our beloved St Raymond Elementary School. Then when we were 16, we worked at Gimbels where we reversed our walk when going to work every Saturday to Cheltenham Ave.
Those are precious memories and ones that most children today won’t have. I now walk too with my husband almost every day to keep moving, but thank you for bringing this to light, as I need to remember the joy of walking and not a chore. It truly is “’tis a gift to come round where we ought to be.”
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Debbie, Isn’t it neat how we remember all those street names after 50 years? I do remember your stories about walking to school and work. Let’s keep walking as long as we can!
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