Late last night two people drove up from Athens, GA, to join us. Michael, a recent graduate of the University of Georgia, had heard us speak at the university in February. Jimmy had been managing some apartments that his parents owned in Athens. He was Chinese, with long hair reaching more than half way down his back. He seldom spoke, and when he did his voice was soft; he was interested in religious philosophy. I think one reason he joined the walk was to discuss religion with the monks; however, they weren't interested in debating fine points of Buddhism.

Michael too had long hair, not so long as Jimmy's, and a full beard. He was more talkative and had a louder voice. He wanted to talk about politics. Many of us had gone through political and religious debates several states ago and were too tired to resurrect any active interest in either now. So we listened to Jimmy and Michael debate, as we walked along.

Mary had gotten the flu last night and couldn't walk but could drive the support car. She was to catch up around midmorning with water for our break, but she got lost until l:00 p.m.

We eventually stopped at l2:30, our first break, weak from lack of water, resolved to wait until Mary arrived. The two new walkers had lots of energy left and kept debating vociferously.

The area was full of ticks and I went into the woods, stripped, and checked my body again for ticks. Then I checked each piece of clothing before getting dressed again. Almost everyone else did the same thing there.

Though the plan was to walk 17 miles, some of us got together secretly during afternoon rest break and decided to cut a few miles off, at the cost of that many more miles the next day: several of us were sick and lots of us were tired from the waterless morning.

We asked Mary to tell Morishita that we had already walked l5 miles though it was actually 13. Morishita didn't believe the number and said the car odometer must be wrong. He considered the total hours we had walked and said it couldn't be l5 miles but more like l3. We exchanged dismayed, disbelieving looks: you cannot fool a Nipponzan Myohoji monk in such matters. We walked four more miles.

We returned to Twin Oaks for a second night. We had extensive tours of this very successful commune, whose founders were inspired by B.F. Skinner's imaginary commune in his book, "Walden Two". It would take more space than my publishers can afford to describe our tour -- what we learned and far more is already in print, for example in Judson Jerome's and Katherine Kincade's books. But you won't find the following tiny incident there.

A large dog joined us at the Twin Oaks dairy. He walked up to people and dropped a stick at their feet, but if they reached down to pick it up, he would grab it first and retreat few steps. Then he'd be back to drop the stick again; no matter how we tried, he would grab it quicker, evidently a veteran in playing this game. I say "we" but I, remembering another dog, let this dog alone and left the dairy. Behind me, I soon heard the dog barking angrily. I looked back; Nagase was playing with the dog. I saw the stick dropped by the dog; I saw Nagase turn his head away as if not interested; then I saw a blur and there was Nagase standing up again with the stick in his hand. He then dropped the stick in front of the dog and the sequence repeated itself; the dog could not get the stick if he waited for Nagase's move.

Later in the evening I dropped in on a going-away party for a member named Chip. People came and went, often playing music. At one point almost everyone was playing some type of instrument. People exchanged instruments both hand-to-hand and by leaving them behind for new entrants to pick up, so the music changed constantly, though a song might last as long as twenty minutes.

At Twin Oaks, I met people who were most aware of the world outside and I saw at least one who appeared a permanent meditator, perhaps burned-out by the outside world and on an extended retreat.    May 6, Post Oaks to Fredericksburg
We were to walk 17 miles and would be in DC in less than a week. Once there, I knew that the character of the New Orleans march would be lost as many new people would join at once. Besides such thoughts, the morning offered nothing of significance until at lunchtime a car pulled up, driven by an elderly man. He asked us a few questions then said we were on his property. After an exchange or two he consented to our staying to finish lunch. A few of us complimented him on his beautiful lawn, explaining we had originally mistaken it for a park. His voice changed as he told us his wife had done all the landscaping. She had died a few months ago. He invited us to walk through the yard, saying it would make his wife happy. Two of us did.

Within minutes another car pulled up, and a much younger man got out to talk with us. He said he was the neighbor of the first man and pointed out his house. He said the first man had called him, asking him to come talk with us because he had changed his mind and now wanted us to leave. Someone had recently broken into the old man's house and had stolen some of his wife's things. We packed our food boxes back into the car and prepared to leave.

Now another neighbor approached from across the road. He had been mowing his yard all this time. He couldn't have heard what was going on but he must have guessed. Asking whether we accepted donations, he gave us $20. He didn't stay to talk but quickly returned to his mowing.

That night in Fredericksburg, Bill and I stayed with Virginia and Clyde Carter. Virginia was a graduate of East Carolina University where I had attended graduate school. And it was a memorable evening for Clyde: that night he was giving his final final exam, after 39 years as a professor of religion at Mary Washington College.

Bill, Virginia, and I spent most of the evening watching TV. PBS was showing the program, "Thinking Twice About Nuclear War", part of which was about an "average middle class" family which had never really thought much about what nuclear war was like. They were exposed to books and films about nuclear weapons; the program followed the evolution of their thinking, leading to their active opposition to nuclear weapons. They were a real family, the Strassburgs, who had hosted two of the walkers during our stay in Richmond.

   May 7, Fredericksburg to Stafford
Though we had only ten miles to walk today, we assembled early at the starting point. It was a beautiful morning, the cherry trees around MWC in full bloom.

I met Kajo as he left the basement of the Center. He was not smiling, unusual for him. We greeted one another and I told him I had seen him on TV last night. (The PBS film included a short clip on the Stockholm-to-Paris peace walk.) His only comment was,"Stockholm-to-Paris Peace March was very famous and very important. Not like this peace march." I hurriedly agreed with him and went downstairs to pick up my luggage. I realized only later that Kajo was trying to tell me goodbye. But I had been too busy to stand still for a few minutes to talk.

He was on his way to catch a bus to DC. He had left a note for Morishita, explaining that he was leaving the walk for a few days. He was going to their temple in DC, to fast and pray. After reading the note, no one knew whether Kajo would continue with the walk past DC. This was unclear for two reasons. We did not know whether he would want to continue, and we also did not know whether the other monks would allow him to rejoin.

Last night Morishita decided we had time to go to Fort Hill for a prayer vigil. Fort Hill was twenty miles from Fredericksburg so we would have to be driven -- transportation was still being arranged by the Richmond Peace Education Center. Our driver arrived in an old borrowed VW van. The battery was dead so we had to push to get the motor restarted. We sang songs as we rode to the army base.

We set up the prayer vigil in front of the main entrance as usual. Again as usual it wasn't long before there were a dozen MPs grouped near us. They were wondering who we were, what we were doing, and, more importantly, what they should do. Bill went up to talk with them and try to stall them for minutes. By the time the monks had finished their prayer, the MPs were getting a bit nervous. During this time, Fredericka had been standing by the gate handing out literature to motorists entering or leaving.

The vigil over, we got into the van, forgetting the dead battery. Then we piled out and began pushing the van toward the gate and the assembled MPs. The motor started just before we reached the gate. The back of the van was plastered with political bumper stickers with slogans like, "I know Watt's wrong." This incident with the van had to reinforce the MPs' image of us as a bunch of crazy hippies.

We actually started walking toward the middle of the morning. Kajo's absence was heavy on us. Sakamaki was visibly saddened.

At lunch we were joined by two people from the Washington Peace Center, Till and Christiana, from Germany. They were going to walk with us today and as many more days as possible until we got to DC. In the afternoon children in a passing bus chanted, "World Peace! World Peace!"

Arriving early in the afternoon in Stafford, we had activities all the rest of the day, more or less unplanned. Carole and Mercury decided we should have a healing circle for Kajo. We spread some blankets under a tree in the back yard of the small Lutheran church where we were to stay. All the walkers participated in the healing circle.

First, of course, we sat in a circle. Carole explained what we were to do next. Each of us was to picture Kajo's face in our minds. After a while we were to picture his wounds and his sadness. Finally we were to send our love out to him and picture him well again. This ritual was new to me and to most of the others, especially the Japanese.

Everything went well until Fredericka decided to lead us in a "laughing meditation". We were to chant alternately "Hee Hee" and "Ho Ho". After a half-minute of this the healing circle was dead. The laughing meditation went over as well as her Hare Krishna dance of a few days ago.

We stayed seated under the tree, and now our activity changed from healing and laughing to a going-away party for Molly. She was to catch a bus in the morning to return to her home in Connecticut. She had wanted to remain with us at least until we got to DC, but had obligations at home and had stayed with us until the last possible minute.

That going-away party was festive, with plenty of watermelons, ice cream, and cookies. We ate well since we thought this was going to be our supper, and talked of things that had happened with us for the past month while Molly had been with us.

Jerry, the minister of the church, appeared for the first time. He was a young man. It was obvious that he was very busy, yet his manner was easy-going. He hadn't been minister there long.

He told us that one of his church members had called him that afternoon to express her opposition to our sleeping in the church tonight. She had talked with her cousin in Chester, S.C., who had reported seeing us along the road there, walking. It reminded her of the sixties, and she didn't like it. The minister ignored the woman's complaints. Later in the evening we got to meet some more of the church members, who were not untypical of the caller.

Jerry extended us an invitation to eat supper with him at a kind of church gathering. The church was rather new and the event would help the members get better acquainted. Bill, Doug, and I went with Jerry to get the sandwiches; on the fifteen-minute drive, my mind was on a seven-page letter from Pamela I had just read and was asked to share with Bill and am soon to share with readers of this account.

Although there wasn't much distance in time betwen the walkers at the church and the church members at the supper, there was a tremendous distance in lifestyles. The house was in a definitely upper-middle class neighborhood. Jerry had to show ID at a guard house before being allowed to enter the neighborhood. It was too dark to see much of what the houses looked like, except that they were big. The four of us walked into the crowd of about forty.

A few were grilling hamburgers and hot dogs, but the first sandwich was yet to be made. There was lots of beer and wine. Many people seemed well on their way to becoming drunk. Jerry talked with a few. An invitation was extended for the other walkers to return for supper, as it would be a long time before food would be ready for us to take back to the church.

A half hour later, and after I had taken care to warn the new walkers about our rule against alcohol, half of us were at the party. Now I got a better idea of the wealth inside the house. Large amounts of jewelry were on display in the living room. (Later that night, when Morishita heard me telling the absentees about the party, he was surprised to find out he had been in a person's house -- he had thought it was a jewelry store.) There were a few guns on the wall, and a plaque about the virtues of service to one's fellow man.

We learned that the owner of the house was a Secret Service agent. We met a weapons expert in the defense department who was angry at our presence. He said that if he wanted to see a peace demonstration he could just look out his Pentagon window. He certainly didn't want to see one at a party. We had forgotten how close to Washington we were. The Secret Service agent and the Pentagon employee tried to debate us, but most of the people ignored us; only three or four had come knowing we would be there. Once we heard someone shout, "My God! Nail down the shingles, they're eating everything in sight!" Bill said that we were now in the heart of the monster; it was an unusual church social, anyway.

Back in the church I gave Pamela's letter to Bill. She was disturbed by growing rebelliousness from Carole and Mercury and somewhat from Sandy and Mary. She said that the monks on the Los Angeles route had heard about us and were upset and that their senior monk Yoshida would expel rebels and problem-makers from the joint walk beyond DC. go to page 41