A man caught up to me as I was walking from Vassar College to the Poughkeepsie Metro North station. White, gray thinning hair swept back, early 50s. I’m walking down the street with an overstuffed backpack and a sleeping bag in a sack.

He says, “I saw you walking and I thought, ‘Well he looks good from behind, but does he look good from the front?’ You look good! You’re not from around here?”

“Nope. Just passing though for a visit. I’m headed for the train station right now.”

“That’s where I’m going! I live right around there. Where you from?”

“I spent the past seven years in Ohio. Now I’m traveling for a bit. In December I’m moving to DC.”

“No kidding! How old are you?”

“24.”

“You look like you’re 18. You’ve got a young face. How do you like Poughkeepsie?”

“Well, I don’t really feel like I’ve actually seen it much. My friend I’m visiting works at Vassar, so I’ve spent most of my visit on campus. Seems like a nice town though.”

As we walk, he points out various locations of significance in Poughkeepsie’s history or his own life. He tells me he’s lived in Poughkeepsie for 20 years. He tells me that he used to be in advertising, but five years ago he was in a wicked car accident and now he’s on disability. He’s in pain all the time he says and there’s something with his eye. Sometimes he gets insomnia. He has trouble getting behind the wheel of a car. They tell him he’s got post traumatic stress disorder. Still, he keeps up a good clip as we’re walking together and never once waits for stop lights, preferring to dash in between cars passing. He tells me I’d love Boston, so I tell him I’ve been there and I do. “You have? Of course you have.” This happens several more times when he asks about Washington state and Portland OR, and California. Each time he mentions a city, I’ve been there recently.

“Course there’s not much work around here,” he says. “All the work’s out on route 9.”

“There’s not much work?”

“No, well. This used to be IBM country, but in the mid-90s they gave everyone early severance and took off. There’s a lot of history here though. This area we’re passing through now is old. Buildings from the 1700s. This used to big a big whaling town.”

I have a brief flashback to Hilary telling me about how it devestated the region she works in when U.S. Steel pulled out of coal mining in Harlan County in the 1960s. Has so much of this nation been under the control of singular major corporations for so long?

We reach the train station and I tell him I’ve got to dash for my train (spoilers: I miss it anyway).

“Sure thing. What was your first name again?”

“Harris. Yours?”

“Steve. Thanks for my morning chat.”

“Thanks for the walk.”