Life lessons from the Lehigh Canal towpath
Memory tells me that it was in 1986 that a group of hearty Bethlehem Steel guys got together on Sunday mornings to run together.
We would meet at the Bethlehem Y parking lot and run from there, oftentimes running on the Lehigh Canal towpath.
While running, we often talked about family, politics and sports. Mind you, some of those topics did provide for a faster pace. Of course, the post-run activities included more talk and the occasional beverage.
We also witnessed the changes to the towpath over the years, from areas to where it was nothing more than a well-worn path to its current state today with long stretches of well-maintained and even paved surfaces. We ran in sunshine, wind, rain and snow, and witnessed what Mother Nature is capable of at times.
As with many things, time, distance and age has changed runners into bicyclists, and what once was a group is now down to just me. My last cycling buddy recently suffered an injury biking and may or may not return. Time will tell.
Nonetheless, the towpath still holds a charm for me. I ride there regularly, along with many people in the Lehigh Valley.
I recently had the privilege of serving as a walking pacer for the St. Luke’s D&L Canal half-marathon in November. Being assigned the finish time of 4 hours, 15 minutes, I basically served as the “tail-end Charlie” for the half-marathon walkers.
About a mile into the walk, I noticed there were only two walkers behind me. So I slowed down and started to walk with one of them. For the sake of anonymity, I will call her Cindy. We walked together for about 10 miles, which translates into about three hours, give or take. Fortunately for both of us, we were both talkers and had a wonderful conversation.
Our conversation covered many things — family, friends, education, jobs and, of course, our view of the world. Just for
context, on the outside Cindy and I would appear to be nothing alike. Besides the difference in gender, she is black and I am white; she lives in Virginia, the “South,” and I live here in Pennsylvania; I am straight and she is gay.
But I learned something very profound from her that day: Once one begins to hate, it is difficult to limit that hate to just one thing.
Take today’s anti-“woke” movement: Some hate people of color, hate gays, hate immigrants, hate drag queens, hate books that reflect reality they want to forget.
Psychologists will tell you the difference between anger, contempt and hate is that in hate is an element of the desire to get rid of those you hate. I’m still digesting what she said to me that day.
I had another experience recently on the towpath. While it was illuminating, it was not quite
the same as my walk with Cindy.
I was riding my bike when I came upon two people walking in front of me. I thought it was a small woman and her child; when that “child” turned around and had a full beard, I was quite surprised!
Several days later I took our friend’s dog, Shady, for a walk from Sand Island. As we walked toward Easton, I noticed many homeless encampments along the towpath, more than I have seen before. I was quite surprised then, when I noticed the aforementioned fully bearded man in one of those encampments.
I decided to stop and talk. Ty, his name, was very friendly and engaging. I mentioned that I had seen him recently and I asked him where he was from and how he became homeless. It turns out he is local and that when his mother died, he lost his home.
He mentioned that he does have work during the warmer times of the year; wintertime, not so much. He said this was his second year along the towpath and that he felt he was prepared for it. He also noted that he did see a small improvement in the help some local organizations were giving, providing hand warmers and over-the-counter medications when needed. But shelter access was very limited when times were really bad.
Overall, my perception was that Ty was very upbeat and not bitter. Indeed, he talked about his concern and desire to help the other people he was sharing the towpath with, many not from the area.
The towpath is a wonderful facility for everyone in the Lehigh Valley. If you are adventurous enough, you can travel from White Haven, north of Jim Thorpe, all the way to Trenton, New Jersey. Many communities along the way have spent much time and money making it accessible and enjoyable for everyone.
But there seems to be one more thing to resolve: What do we do about Ty and his fellow travelers? Do we come in during the day and remove all the encampments, some of which have been there for several years, and let the homeless resident fend for themselves? Or do we, as a community, find and fund a better and more humane place for Ty and his fellow travelers to find refuge and rebuild their lives?
Not an easy question to answer. Perhaps a walk or a ride along the towpath will provide some guidance and inspiration on what to do.