Once All The Roads Were Satin

Once all the roads were satin. Highways of red and purple fabric stretched from here to far past where your Aunt Margaret's home is now. This was a long time ago, when your grandparents were still young. You could walk barefoot then, because the roads were soft. Not like now. Walking to school was a pleasure. The roads were beautiful; they would shine in the morning, reflecting the new day's light.

Then the automobiles came. They traveled on the roads too. They were too rough on the roads. Their hard rubber tires tore holes in the soft fabric.

Every Tuesday evening the whole town would go to the streets with needle and thread and repair the holes. Nobody minded the work at first. It was fun, and the roads needed fixing and the automobiles needed roads. But each week there were more and more holes. Too many holes to sew closed on one evening. People started to sew and patch the roads on Wednesday evenings as well. Then Thursday's. Before long people were working on the roads every night of the week. Soon there too many repairs to be made each week and the roads fell into disrepair. Eventually nothing was left of the roads but ragged shreds. Then there were no roads.

The automobiles found life difficult without roads. They wanted replacements. A stronger fabric was needed, so roads of linen were made. But the same thing happened. The automobiles destroyed the linen roads. Then they mourned their loss.

The automobiles demanded new roads but there was no fabric strong enough with which to make them. Trails of stone and tar were laid down where the roads once were. Walking on the stone hurt people's feet. Everyone had to wear shoes. This sacrifice was made so that the automobiles would be happy. Were the automobiles happy? No. The automobiles wanted roads of velvet.

What To Do With Arms While Walking

H didn't know what to do with his arms while walking. He wanted to leave them straight by his side. But he had seen other people do the same and they looked awkward and uncomfortable.

H tried to casually swing his arms with his steps as those around him did. But he worried about people seeing through his attempt at walking naturally and calling him out as an impostor.

He wanted to fold his arms in front of him, or dig his hands into his pockets. But C once gave out to him about his body language for being too cold and “stand-offish”, so he didn't want to do that.

He decided to put his arms behind him and clasp his right wrist with his left hand, just at the small of his back. H walked comfortably in this fashion for several paces. He then worried that walking like this could appear old-fashioned and eccentric.

By this stage H had reached the store. He bought something to hold for the way back.

From There To Here By Water

Dublin was grey so H decided to leave. He followed the Tolka River to Dunshaughlin and then the Boyne to the Bog of Allen. The Brosna took him to Lough Derg and the Shannon and her estuary plopped him into the Atlantic Ocean.

The Atlantic Ocean is easily crossed if one takes a run at it, so H soon found himself at the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. After resting for the night at Grosse Isle he followed Saint Lawrence to the lakes Ontario and Erie.

The Grand River flows roughly North to South. This pleased H so he walked her banks until he got a hole in his shoe. In New Berlin H found a job as an apprentice baker, using part of his wage to pay the cobbler. Liking his work and being tired from two days walking, H stayed put to complete his training.