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A good walk spoiled …

As background, my evening picker-upper walk begins roughly at 5:30, give or take a few minutes on either side.

So it was last night. But I had scarcely exited my development – literally, I wasn’t on Sharon View Road for 10 steps – when the first polystyrene ‘peanut’ came into view. I knew this would lead to nothing good.

Where there’s one peanut, there’s more.

I didn't dare empty this bag, lest the peanuts blow away in the wind.

I didn’t dare empty this bag, lest the peanuts blow away in the wind.

And did that turn out to be correct. These little enemies, hundreds of them, littered the next 100 yards or so. Rather than reach cruising speed, the next 15 minutes were spent corralling these curlycue beasts one by stinking one as I hopscotched across both sides of Sharon View. If there was a feel-good moment about this peanut pile, it was that several of the things were recovered from the brink of two storm drains. Alas, several could be seen having slipped through the grates. The next stop for these floaters: McMullen Creek.

A Sierra Nevada Pale Ale bottle and Bud Light can were tossed into the bag for good measure. Yet the damage was done; my morale was a goner and, for the first time in eight years, my walk was not completed. I turned tail and retreated home after this dispiriting 100 yards of peanut purgatory. Indeed, it was a good walk spoiled.

About Dave Bradley (264 Articles)
I was a writer by trade so one would think letters would come easily for me. It is so now, but wasn't always that way. Indeed, the first letter was written the Monday after Ellen started her freshman year in college. For years I've wondered - with no good answers - why I swiveled my office chair toward my computer screen to fire up a word processing document for that first letter. I just don't know. I just did. Perhaps it was the angst of separation or wanting to say things that had gone unsaid at that moment when we parted ways in front of her college dormitory. What was a one-off became habitual. When her brother Reid enrolled in the same college, his name was added to the salutation line. They were kids then and are adults now. No matter. The letter writing habit remains so today. I live in Brevard, North Carolina. I'm well away from where they live and don't see them nearly as often as I'd like. That's why letters, at least to me, fill the void of distance. The pages give me something to say and the space to say it. There is no assurance they read the letters; indeed, I have never asked if they do so. With the pace of their busy lives who could blame them for letting a letter sit unopened? Over time, it has dawned on me that the letters are both communicative - and cathartic. By nature, letters are about the writer; the writer can only write about their situation. Perhaps that is as it should be. It's all about the here and now from one person's perspective.

1 Comment on A good walk spoiled …

  1. jacobsbranch // December 20, 2014 at 6:13 pm // Reply

    Dave-have you ever asked if other countries permit or outlaw the use of these styrofoam peanuts? Is this a U.S. phenomena?

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