The Walking Man was outside again this morning, his bulky winter coat casting a Michelin Man shadow on the suburban snow. Another frigid day, but he trudged down the street, a knit cap pulled tightly against his scalp. His gloves were massively thick, his matching muffler pulled tight across his face. Bulky wireless headphones arched across his head; his personal crown jewels. Sunlight, the only hint of warmth, gleamed against his thick sunglasses.

He has walked this freezing loop twice each morning of this arctic week, while others huddle inside. They walk on basement treadmills or in glitzy health clubs. Surely he has access to both; what keeps him moving on these slippery streets? Could it just be joy at being outside in the sun, using this Christmas to New Year week to escape from the four wall office and the darkness of Midwestern winter commutes?

He enjoys knowing that his are the only boot prints he sees in the snow. Maybe as the year comes to an end he is using the cold and solitude to sharpen his thoughts, to focus on the 12 months gone by. He must think about his triumphant moments and times of joy. But he is trying not to forget the incidents that turned out less well, trying to tease out what he did wrong. Is there anything he can learn, some things to carry into the New Year?

What is he listening to on those technically up-to-date, but oh, so out of style, headphones? The same songs that always play in his head, reminding him of the past? Or is Pandora streaming new sounds to him, expanding him, filling him with beats and rhythms and vocabularies that at first sound discordant, but with enough listening can become familiar and comfortable. He can learn to tolerate, just as his parents must have learned to tolerate the Beatles and the Stones.

Maybe it is not music at all that is Bluetoothing to his ears. It could be podcasts of angry Trump deniers, or even angrier Trump supporters. The vitriol and bile have been unending. Has he taken sides? Has he contributed to the tumult? Or does his head still hold the hope of people conversing with each other, not yelling at each other.

He checks his wrist frequently. Is he that concerned with the time? Or is his watch measuring something else. How many footsteps in a mile, how many miles until he reaches his goal? I like to believe there is no goal, the step count on his FitBit s a mere excuse to keep moving as the sweat soaks his tee shirt.

From time to time his humid breath, channeled upward by his muffler, forms a cataract of condensation on his sunglasses. The open spaces in front of him turn hazy and indistinct. He wonders if this blur is what old age will be like. How many New Years will he have ahead to celebrate, and where will he celebrate them?

The Walking Man will be outside again tomorrow. I know he will be. Will the New Year bring answers to his questions?

---

A Happy New Year to All. Join the “Getting More from Les” Facebook fanpage at https://www.facebook.com/lesraff1

Or subscribe to the blog below. No spam ever.

#mc_embed_signup{background:#fff; clear:left; font:14px Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; }
/* Add your own MailChimp form style overrides in your site stylesheet or in this style block.
We recommend moving this block and the preceding CSS link to the HEAD of your HTML file. */

//s3.amazonaws.com/downloads.mailchimp.com/js/mc-validate.js(function($) {window.fnames = new Array(); window.ftypes = new Array();fnames[0]=’EMAIL’;ftypes[0]=’email’;fnames[1]=’FNAME’;ftypes[1]=’text’;fnames[2]=’LNAME’;ftypes[2]=’text’;}(jQuery));var $mcj = jQuery.noConflict(true);