I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been walking for awhile now. I wouldn’t say I’m good at it. I mean, hell I walk into the side of the fridge every single day.

But darn it, I sure do walk a lot.

To pay bills I’m a postal worker. A letter carrier, A sexy mailman some might say. Union scum others might say. I enjoy the job. For two reasons:

1) It gives me money to eat and pay rent.

2) I get to walk a lot.

Other than those two reasons I’m not a fan, because I’d rather be living a life making money of my horse related art. But until then I walk.

I’ve always walked more than most people I know. I grew up on a small piece of farmland that had a driveway 1/3 of a kilometre. I would walk down that gravel driveway every morning to wait for the school bus, then a quick 45 minute ride to school. I’d walk down that driveway every night after school. Rain, shine, snow storms. Up hill both ways! In my fathers pyjamas and what not. It gave me a lot of time to mess around with ideas in my head. Dreaming my little country boy dreams.

As I got older, walking down the driveway was a great place to smoke a joint in the middle of the night. Getting high, walking along and stopping halfway down the driveway to gaze up at the stars and dream my little stoned dreams.

My friends lived a few hours walk away and sometimes we would meet up. We would walk in the middle of the night high or drunk on those dangerous country roads and walk to whatever friends parents would let us crash. We never really hung out at my house cause there was no good snack foods and my dad was a grumpy old coot.

At the beginning of my 3rd semester of college my girlfriend (who I rode the bus with most of my life) passed away. It was one of the hardest most painful things I’ve ever endured, I would not recommend it. It set me off into my twenties with nothing but despair, heartbreak and some good old fashioned self destruction. I still made it through my last semester of film school though. Graduating as a total wreck. But I did it. Yay.

I moved into a buddy’s basement, living on a mattress in his hallway, I got one month of welfare then got a job at the video store a half hour walk away.

But one day, drunk and stupid and still in mourning, I split open the webbing of my pinky toe, unsuccessfully trying to kick a soccer ball in flip-flops. I had to get a single stitch between my toes and I was given crutches to stay off it.

I still had to walk to work though. Crutching along everyday for a month. One night coming home from work there was a huge storm. I cut through my usual wide-open-park shortcut. Suddenly there’s a huge crack of lighting. I stand there in the middle of this park holding two mettle lighting rod crutches. The rain pours down. I hobble to safety and wait out the lighting with some stranger who was smoking a joint. I assumed he was going to mug me but he didn’t. He also didn’t share his joint.

I kept that job at the video store but moved down the mountain (mountain is Hamiltonian speak for escarpment) to the east end. About an hour and a half walk away. Oh sure, I could take the bus. But I wasn’t made of bus money. And I could walk faster than public transit could get me home. And I’m crazy.

There’s these steps along the mountain brow called Uli’s Steps. These steps are right on my route and save me a bunch of time. It’s a beautiful little steep walk made of rocks with little bits of flowers beside it. Lovely on a nice summer’s eve and absolute hell on a slippery winter’s morn.

I remember coming out of those steps and people would yell at me. One time some guys in a pickup truck yelled “Get a job”. Which of course sucked to hear cause I was walking an hour and a half to my job. But clearly I looked like I was down on my luck. Lot’s of people yelled at me along that walk. Guys in cars often tried to run me down in the night. This is a common thing in my life. Guys trying to attack me. I really don’t know what that is. But It really makes me dislike any gathering of men. But I assume I’m not alone in that.

All the video stores in the world closed and I moved out of the east side. Downtown. I started riding bikes more. Which was awesome. Shaves a heap of time. I got a job in Dundas and would ride a Sobi bike 45 minutes everyday to work. I eventually got a job in Niagara-On-The-lake. An hour and a half-ish drive depending. I would honestly rather walk an hour than drive an hour.

Down on my luck and struggling at a contract arts career I was eyeing up a job at Canada Post. I felt a little bit of shame applying but it was 3 weeks paid training and my girlfriend (Hot Tracie) reminded me I can always leave the job if I hate it. Such simple advice that I always need to hear.

I took the job to supplement my income in the arts. But boom. The pandemic hit. And all the arts contracts dried up. There was plenty of work at the post office. A job that is honestly great and yet incredibly frustrating. So many people think it’s this really easy gig where you just walk around and hand out paper.

It’s a great job, 7 days out of the year on a nice day if the mail is light.

I was a casual to start. So everyday is a new unknown route and just fucking hell. It’s so hard to communicate to people the frustration of trying to find a mailbox. So many people just have them hidden or don’t even have them. Or have a note on the mailbox not to use that mail box but to use another mailbox in some mystery spot. You spend your days in the factory area wondering why this empty lot has 3 parcels and a heap of mail. And then some un-housed person gets mad at you for not bringing you a cheque. It’s nuts and I could go on. But I’m here to talk about walking.

On the route I cover now I get about 20,000 steps in a work day. I’ve done routes that are 30,000+. Managing those steps in the winter is a fresh hell. But I have found lots of joy in the job. Being out and talking to people. It’s nice to be a part of the community something I think we have lost in this day and age. Plus I’m a fucking firecracker and full of misguided energy so to burn it up helps me sleep. I work out every morning and ride my bike to work. Then walk. I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been in my life. Except my one knee is pretty fucked up and my other knee is going and I have to wear custom orthotics or I will die. I’m like the movie Speed.

But all this walking gives me time to reflect. When I’m happy I whistle a tune. And when I’m sad or angry I walk off a lot of the pain. I know that when I leave this job I will always need some form of a walk. And if I can’t walk I’ll just have to find a way outside even on the worst of days.

I’m sure you know Canada post is on strike, and if you are mad about it just remember that the workers want to work. They just want a fair contract. I could go on about that. And at this point I won’t in this newsletter. Cause I’m not at work.

You can hear my opinion about the post office and from CUPW members in this interview by Dorren Nicoll

Anyways, enough of this able bodied guy bragging about walking and having a job. If you can’t walk or have a hard time. Try and sit near a tree whenever you can. Trees are cool and so are you.

I got some awesome shows coming up!

Oct 25th - Niagara-On-The-Lake - Garden City Comedy

Oct 26th -Staircase Theatre - Hocus Pocus Live Scriptreading

Nov 8th - 155 Ottawa St. - The Midshipman’s Handbook

Dec 12th & 13th -Staircase Theatre - The Spirit of Christmas: A Nook & Cranny Mystery

Come to all of them!

Thanks for reading!

Now go outside for a nice little walk.

-Devin