After Thanksgiving, the walk continued from El Dorado, KS. I walked a few miles east past a state prison, then straight south on the back roads to Leon, KS. My first stop in Leon was the police station. It was getting late, and I wanted to camp in the park. They were very friendly as they ran my ID to see if there were any warrants out for my arrest. They offered me canned goods from a food box that I declined, but I did enjoy coffee and homemade fudge.The park in Leon is very small, and it was right next to an oil well pump that needed to be oiled itself. The perfect rhythm of the squeaks was not going to provide me with a good night's sleep, so I left the park, walked up to a someone's house, and asked the familiar question, "I'm walking across America, can I set up my tent in your back yard for the night?" The response was as good as any, "Why sure, let us know if you need anything." The only response that beats that one is, "It's too cold out there, and we have an extra bedroom inside." At the lower end of the spectrum, but perfectly acceptable responses, include, "I don't see why that would be a problem" and "Yeah, set it up over there" or "mmm, You're doing what now?...all right." In all this time on the road I haven't yet received a flat out "no." That seems pretty incredible, huh? Anyway, the woman's name was Carol , and meeting her that day began the first link in a chain of folks that have opened up their homes to me since, and hopefully will continue in the future. When her husband, Ron, came home from work, they invited me in for dinner, and we became friends. After dinner, we talked while making Christmas candy, and their daughter, Shirena, interviewed me for her school's newspaper.At one point in the evening, I looked out their window and saw a police car's search light scanning the park. I knew that they were looking for me, so I walked over and said, "You must be looking for me." Officer John Jones had read A Walk Across America, and he wanted to talk with me to see if I would be warm enough or if I needed anything. It was one of those few moments in life where one can be happy that the police were looking for them. He was a nice guy and gave me his email address to keep in touch. I was beginning to really like Leon, Kansas.Leon has a population of about 500 people, and like most towns its size in Kansas, it is dying. Most of the people that live in Leon work in El Dorado somewhere, at the prison, or for Boeing in Wichita. All that is really there is its biggest industry--the grain elevator in the center of town, a diner, post office, small grocery, and the city building which has a small public library in the back that is only open on Saturday afternoon. The railroad stopped running through Leon a year ago, and if the farmers start taking their wheat to a different elevator, some people think the town will fold. It will become a clump of houses built close together, but out in the country. Things move pretty slowly in Leon. I like that, so I stayed a couple of days.The walk to Atlanta, which lies in what is known as the Flint Hills region of Kansas, offered my first sightings of rolling hills, curves in the road! and trees! Atlanta is about twenty miles south of Leon and has a population of about 250 people. If Leon is dying, Atlanta is dead and gone. It has a café that closes at 2pm, a church and Dennis King's welding shop. 
Since I arrived in Atlanta at 4pm and the café was closed, it made perfect sense to me to go see what Dennis King was up to in his welding shop. He was actually outside talking to his dog and putting things away to end a day's work. We talked for a bit, and I told him about my trip. I offered to help him with anything, but he said, "No, that's ok. Are you hungry?" and he handed me a soda, some apples, and cheese. Then he said, "You know, a man should at least have a roof over his head in this kind of weather. Lemme think," and he looked at the ground while he placed his thumb and fingers on his chin like one does when they are thinking.What Dennis came up with was a barn in town that he owned. It had electricity with lights for reading and a pile of straw to lay my sleeping bag on, but most importantly, it was inside and out of the wind and frost that covers my tent in the morning. I was toasty warm and dry.The next morning I went to the café for breakfast and coffee. Now, not many things happen in a town like Atlanta without most of the town knowing about it. (Dennis told me later that four different people had called him that night to ask if he knew that someone was in his barn.) As I walked into the cafe with my pack on, I knew that I had been a topic of conversation this morning. The cafe was empty except for a large round table in the center where a few locals, the cook, and waitress were sitting. I took off my pack and began to sit at a table near the window when the questions started. "Where you heading?" came from one of the guys. I realized that if I were going to have a conversation with these people, I shouldn't do it from across the room. I should join them. So I did. We talked about my walk, the cold weather, the fact that the US started bombing Iraq again, and of course, President Clinton's sex life.After breakfast, I went over to thank Dennis King for a night in his barn and to say goodbye, and walked south towards Burden, KS. About four miles out of Atlanta, I saw R.D. Williams, a guy that I had met at the cafe, getting the mail from his box on the highway. He asked me if I would like to come up to his farm for a while and then to Burden for lunch. Like I'm gonna say no to that.I spent a lot of time with R.D. Williams that day. He was born in 1930, and remembered not being able to go outside and play during the Kansas dust-bowl days in the 30's. He had an amazing array of animals on his farm including cattle, long-horned steers, lamas, sheep and an ostrich. There was also a large group of geese, ducks, chickens and roosters that would follow him around whether he was carrying a bucket of feed or not. He lived in a trailer that you could tell had been added on to many times. When I asked him if there were anywhere to go during a tornado, he pointed at the duck pond and said, "Well, we started to dig a storm shelter over there, but we didn't get around to finishing it. So, we just filled it up with water. The ducks seem to like it."It came time for lunch, and we drove to the cafe in Burden after a short driving tour of the town. At the cafe, I got to sit at a long table with six old timers--all of them Kansas farmers. I just sat and listened to them talk about the way things used to be, the stories of the old days and the (all in good fun) harassment of the waitress. Of course, in cafes like this one, the waitress is allowed to be rude to the customer, and she always has great comebacks for everything that is said to her. It's kind of like how Flo did it in "Mel's Diner."R.D. Williams cared about me and my walk. He understood that I was doing it to see America and meet its people, and he wanted to help me by taking me on a short tour of his life here in Kansas. I am very grateful for that. When I thanked him for everything and said goodbye, he said, "I enjoyed it, and I hope that you got to learn something." I learned a lot that day.From Burden, I walked southwest towards Winfield, and I arrived there the next afternoon. I asked someone where the library was and headed there to check e-mail. Before reaching the library, I saw the Winfield Fitness Club and heard the angels sing, "Ahhhhh," because I knew the possibility of a hot shower would lie inside that building. I laughed to myself as I walked into a weight room full of people working out. I was fresh off the road and carrying that huge pack. It had to be done. I asked the trainer working there if I could pay a one time fee so that I could take a shower. His reply, "Nope, but I'll donate you one." It was a much needed bathing experience. I can't just jump in the rivers and streams all the time like I used to do in the summer. So, when a shower comes along, it's not just a wash and rinse. It is savored until your fingers look like prunes.By the time I reached the library it was 4pm, and I couldn't take time to send out any mail. Four pm in the middle of a town the size of Winfield means that I need to start thinking about where I am going to call home tonight before it gets dark. The librarian gave me a map of the town, showed me where a nature trail was, and told me that no one would be walking down there this time of year. Done deal. The nature trail was right next to Island Park where Winfield has its "Isle of Lights" every year for Christmas. This is where people can drive around a loop in the park and see all kinds of elaborate light displays. There is also a trolley that takes people around it, so I'm thinking, "This will be great." I found a spot to set up my tent and began to cook dinner. Six pm rolled around and so did the Christmas music playing over the loud speakers. My first reaction was, "Oh god, this is going to drive me crazy," but it really wasn't so bad. How often can you sit in the woods eating pasta-roni while listening to "Silent Night." It just doesn't happen all that much in my life, so I tried to enjoy it. The lights really were spectacular and the music stopped at 10pm.The next morning was gorgeous, and I packed up and headed for Arkansas City, KS. I knew I had to make it there by nightfall because the weather was going to be turning bad. Well it did turn bad, but it happened much sooner than expected. So, I walked most of the fourteen miles to Arkansas City in cold drizzle. The rain gear was working well though, and I was warm. Before I left Winfield, I happened to be walking by the police station and figured it wouldn't hurt to stop in and tell them what I am doing. An officer behind a bullet-proof window said to me, "Oh, we knew you were coming. You made pretty good time down from Atlanta." Then, he introduced a woman wearing a head set telephone and said, "She'll be taking most of the calls we get today about you walking through town." hmmmm.
Before I tell you about Arkansas City, I must explain to you this phenomena that when you are in Kansas, you should always pronounce Arkansas, "Our Kansas." Some locals are more serious about it than others, but more than a few times I received evil glares from people when I pronounced Arkansas the way that the rest of the country pronounces it, "Arkansaw." I've been struggling with this the entire time I've been in Kansas, because I followed the "Our Kansas" River most of the way through the state, but as soon as I cross the border into Oklahoma, it goes right back to "Arkansaw." However, you don't really have to worry about it in Arkansas City, because everyone calls it "Ark City," which was a struggle for me to get used to also.Anyway, when I made it to Ark City, I went to the Salvation Army to ask about a shelter. There isn't one in Ark City, but the nice ladies at the Salvation Army fed me and gave me hot coffee and a voucher for a free motel room for one night. Being homeless sometimes has its perks. In return, I helped them unload a truck full of presents for children who wouldn't receive any this Christmas if it weren't for the Salvation Army. It was beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.I had been praying for a family to spend Christmas with for the past few weeks, and after watching the weather channel in the motel room, I knew that Christmas would be spent in Ark City this year. Freezing rain was predicted for the next three days. I can't live outside in that. I can take the cold when it is dry, but when there is moisture, it gets into everything and greatly reduces the performance of the 20 degree sleeping bag I have.I called the folks I had met up in Leon and talked to Carol. She told me to call Ron's brother, Randy. He and his wife Cinda live in Ark City, and he said I was welcome to stay with them for a couple of days. It was the evening of December 18th, and I needed someone to adopt me for a week. I needed a family for Christmas. I looked in the yellow pages under churches and called Calvary Chapel. No answer, so I left a message. I later talked to the pastor of that church and asked him if he knew of a family that might adopt a thirty-year-old man for Christmas. He never did find one, however, he did call a police officer in the church who came over to Randy and Cinda's house while we were having dinner to run my ID for warrants.Everything worked out for the best, though. After getting to know me, Randy and Cinda invited me to stay as long as I wanted, and they wanted me to celebrate Christmas with their family. They both work for Martin Luther Homes, which provides housing and care for mentally retarded people. Randy works with the more severe cases of mental retardation, and one day he took me to the home in which he worked. His job requires a tremendous amount of love and patience, and Randy has both. Their daughter, Shawn, also works for Martin Luther Homes. She manages a home for less severely retarded people. Two days before Christmas she had an open house for friends and family, and we all went over and sang Christmas songs with everyone. It was a really beautiful experience. I found a job for the week before Christmas cutting and stacking wood with a guy named Mike. Now, Mike like so many other people I have met in Kansas, is storing up supplies of food, water, and wood (although most people are choosing propane over wood) for y2k. Ah yes, the y2k dilemma: complete meltdown, or just an inconvenience for a few days. I predict that it will fall somewhere in between the two. I plan to be in a warmer climate then, and right now I'm leaning towards buying a pack full of tuna and rice and hiding out in the woods next to a stream for awhile. I trust that God will watch over me through that time, but then again it was Noah's incredible faith in God that caused him build an ark and fill it with animals in a place where there was no water. However, he was warned about what was to come by God himself, and I have only been warned with an incredibly wide range of predictions made by people. Time will tell. The best approach that I have seen, are the people I've met who are not just preparing for their family but for their community. They view y2k as an opportunity to reach out to those in need, and I think that's great.
Back to Christmas, on the eve of which we attended a candle light service and afterwards opened our presents. I couldn't have been more pleased with the two light-weight, practical gifts I received from my adopted parents in Arkansas City, a beard trimmer and a silver cross on a necklace. The whole day was just perfect. The next day was Christmas, and I spent it with Mike's family and many of their friends. There were lots of kids running around and balloons, cake and ice cream, as we all had a birthday party for Jesus. He was at the party, too. A few days after Christmas, the cold front moved east, the weather warmed up to the 50's, and it came time to walk again. Once again, I stayed in a community for over a week, became very close to the people there, and that always makes saying goodbye so much more difficult. Cinda said to me, "I didn't realize how much I was going to end up caring about someone that came into our lives the way you did. I just feel like you are a part of us, a relative." The time that I spent with them is the essence of why I am walking across America. I walked south through Arkansas City and found a road that ran parallel to highway 77. It was there that I crossed the state line into Oklahoma. 