“The true charm of pedestrianism does not lie in the walking, or in the scenery, but in the talking. The walking is good to time the movement of the tongue by, and to keep the blood and the brain stirred up and active; the scenery and the woodsy smells are good to bear in upon a man an unconscious and unobtrusive charm and solace to eye and soul and sense; but the supreme pleasure comes from the talk.”
—MARK TWAIN
WALKING STICKS, WALKING meetings, walking shoes, getting ready for a walk, walking tours, linking arms and walking, walking paths, walking for your heart and bones, walking in the city, walking in the woods, walking with a kid. Even the word “stroll” is cozy. Something about rolling along, forward-looking, getting somewhere new or checking in with the familiar. There is a class in my kids’ middle school called Walking with Walkup. For forty minutes, rain or shine, the students march around the neighborhood led by Mr. Walkup. The good this does for everyone—including the teachers who get the kids for the following class—could and should probably be measured, but since there is no way to do that, I picked up the phone and asked Ms. Berkery, who is the eyes, ears, and nose of the school. She said simply, “It gives the kids a sense of belonging.”
This is what I’m talking about! This is why walking to the mailbox is a cozy thing to do. In this class, the middle schoolers are connecting with their local environment during the day, which provides perspective—they are exposed to the world: businesspeople, homeless people, mail carriers, shopkeepers, buses, the sidewalk itself. They bring all of that intelligence back with them into their history or math classes. And, of course, they are strolling with friends, and walking with a friend is the coziest of all—add a dog, off the charts.
If I said I traveled across an ocean to go on a walk with my childhood friend Vanessa, who lives deep in the English countryside, that would be a true statement. I only had one day in her brick house in the village, and after the children had gone to school, husband to work, breakfast dishes washed, coffee sipped at kitchen table, beds made, we got on wellies—oh yes we did—leashed Hazel, who is a lurcher (looks like a wiry greyhound, very English), and set off to the moors. Now, technically, they are miles of gargantuan rolling working fields, but looking back, I can’t help but think of them as the windswept downs in Wuthering Heights.
I was about to go into a long description of trudging over hill and dale with my beloved friend. Talking is productive and satisfying when one walks. I think it’s the blood flow to the brain. In fact, “walking meetings” are trendy for that very reason. Get out, take in fresh air, get the heart moving. And as I had hoped back in New York, Ness and I did walk and saw great big thistles, cows with curly thick heads grazing, and met a few villagers as we went. Hazel ran like the wind ahead of us, always circling around to check in before she did it again. Dogs, nature, community—cozy! But something about this makes me sad. What if you didn’t have a friend to walk with? There have been times in my life when I have felt friendless. I think many people sometimes feel there isn’t a friend in the world whom they could take a walk with. This is when cozy is the most important, and when it’s the hardest to see. I’m going to stand by walking. I believe that even in a friendless moment, a walk will make you feel better. It goes back to what Ms. Berkery said: “It gives the kids a sense of belonging.” When you walk, you are retold that you belong to the world and that the world is lucky to have you. A step is cozy.
