Blog: Notes from Walking a Community

At about 6:00 Monday evening I sensed a bit of extra airflow through my shoe.  At the corner of Genoa and Rosewood I found that I have, indeed, worn through a pair of shoes over the last few weeks. In fact, I scoured the rubber off of my New Balances through to the foam. They gave themselves that Monrovians can have a choice in their election.

Running as a write-in has indeed been an extraordinary challenge.  But, though I have certain indications (which I need not reveal) that make me cautiously optimistic about Tuesday's results, the experience of running has had its own rewards.

I've walked the streets of Monrovia from Orange & Bradbury on the East to 5th & Genoa on the Southwest, from Oakglade and Norumbega in the North, to Doray Circle, Atara and El Sur in the South, to Cherry, Lemon and Cypress Avenues in the geographic center.  And, of course, Old Town at its heart.

I've met people of all stripes, from the spiritual leaders of our historic Black community, to folks whose grandparents were born in the same house in which they reside, to our budding Asian community, and everything in between.

I've met remarkable people along the way.  The guy who's training for the London Marathon (he runs 22 miles every Saturday).  A guy who runs a Web site I’ve read numerous times, never knowing he lived a few blocks from me. The woman in Hidden Valley who just shipped her 1000th care package to our troops overseas.  The parents of so many service members with the Monrovia Blue Star placards in the window, often inquiring about the service behind my black veteran's ribbon cap.

I've been blessed with a small band of dedicated volunteers who've pounded almost as much pavement as I, and enjoyed the efforts of folks who've contributed in small ways.  A few t-shirts donated in the opening days of the race have generated more "or you're him" conversations than I can count.  And, it goes without saying, that there have been those who proved more talk than walk (literally).  I can’t say I wasn’t warned about them.

Of course, I've seen the ugliness of small-town politics, too.  I've been blamed for the actions of people I've never spoken a word to in my life.  I've had my reputation intentionally and anonymously smeared with the National Guard. And I’ve been accused (admittedly tongue-in-cheek) of sicking a vicious Maltese on a lawyer.

Fortunately, I know in my heart that such selfishness is not really at the heart of Monrovians who want to live quietly in a community that takes care of itself – and each other.

Regardless of the outcome on Tuesday night, this has been an enriching and rewarding experience.  I’ve been blessed with thoughtful guidance from experienced hands, a loving wife who has called and knocked on doors for me, and the good wishes of Monrovians of all stripes – even some who won’t write “Robert Parry” on their ballots.

Needless to say, I hope you do.  But, if not, we’re still neighbors.

Getting to know more of my neighbors better has been the best part of this journey.