Kennett Square

I couldn't break away from Baltimore, couldn't get fully enthused about leaving the mixture of sanctitude and incredible fun. It was, as Rachel would say, 'Ballin out a' control.' We went cliff diving, rock climbing, hiking and swimming, played some grand Monopoly, and I got a good taste of the Baltimore night life. Every night I came back to a bed, and the generousity of the Delauder family kept me hooked.
But I did get itchy feet, as the road would dictate, and I'm in Pennsylvania now, starting to rack up these smaller and more northern states. The forests are still green and thick but the sun doesn't burn here quite as hard, though the locals still say it's plenty hot.
Yesterday afternoon a man pulled over and yelled across the road about my sign, and cause, and trip. He said good luck and drove up the road, but quickly turned around to see if I had eaten and to let me know that I'd probably be walking right past his house in the next town up the road, and sure enough, as I got into Avondale I glanced across the street to see him waving me inside.
T.J. is an organizer, a political man with a lot of energy and contacts, and as he and his wife fed me dinner in their home we exchanged information, and looked at my planned route for a ways, and I could see, as they say, the gears turning in T.J.'s head. I was sent on my way with a bag full of powerade and snackables and a big bag of fried chicken.
I walked leisurely for two hours, until close to ten thirty, and saw a place not far from the road behind some closed buildings that looked like a good place to camp out. I walked over, liked what I saw, felt tired and ready to stop, but decided to press a little bit farther. Not more than two minutes after getting back on the pavement, T.J. drove up, telling me that the Hilton hotel three miles up the road was waiting for me, as was the next Applebee's. He and a lady named Jenny, from the hotel, had quickly collaborated and arranged a suite for the night and another good meal, plus breakfast in the morning.
By the time I got close to the Hilton it was eleven thirty, and Jenny met me a block down the road and walked me to my room, then across the street where I found the Applebee's ready to take my order.
T.J. tells me that he's not done helping me out, telling me that he's lining up a "Ten day contingency," and though I don't know exactly what's in store I know that I'm not going to have to hunt for food in the near future. As well as the meals I've already had and the pack fillers from T.J.'s home, the night staff at the Hilton gave me three big Ziplock's full of things to munch on. My back will complain a little bit when I'm walking this morning, but it will be the only part of me.

I'm feeling so incredibly blessed that I want to walk forever. Though the thought of home still wets my tongue, and though I miss my friends and family in Colorado, I feel like the road is the place that I'm happiest, the place that I feel like I'm going somewhere and not simply spinning my wheels. One of the biggest dissatisfactions I've had with education is that it seems like it's always aimed at something far away in the distance, with little or no functional attachment to now, today. Here I find that regardless of the number of miles between me and Canada, there is a tangible truth in every step. I know where I'm at, not simply where I'm headed.