A long walk in the country

Step after step, mile after mile brings Rolla Joyce closer to Washington D.C. His zeal pushes closer to his destination, day after day.

Joyce, from Richland, Wash., passed through Sidney Thursday afternoon on a near cross country walk. Earlier this summer he felt a calling to leave his family, catch a ride to Salt Lake City, Utah and begin his trek across the heartland for the sake, he says, of his country.

As Joyce sees it, Americans are in a state of isolation. The thought of individuals helping each other has become a thing of the past. The men and women we elect to office dig in their heels on every issue, except reelection. Each one of his steps forward hopes to redress the nation's steps in the wrong direction.

He walks towing a cart behind him, loaded with gear, and an American flag mounted upside down on a pole. It's a sign of distress—his sense of distress for the nation.

“My wife and I are both in agreement that this is crazy,” Joyce said. “A week before Independence day I felt inspired to make plans to march to Washington D.C. from Salt Lake. I told my wife that I feel pressed to do this, that God wants me to do this.”

It wasn't an easy decision. His two weeks on the road since setting off on July 4 are the longest the 34-year-old has been away from his family.

But the calling was strong.

“I really would of never thought in a million years 'hey you know what’s a great idea? You should walk across the country,'” he said. “When I first started walking I didn’t know—and I still don’t really why—I need to do this. I just knew the what and the when and I’m still trying to figure out the why.”

Joyce admits he has no real idea what he hopes to accomplish. He hopes that, as he crosses paths with ordinary Americans, he inspires them toward charity and openness with their neighbors.

“In the time that I’ve been walking, I’ve been thinking a lot about the problems that our country has.” he explained. “And it seems like most of them, if you boil them down it’s a form of selfishness and isolation.”

Hours on the road caused him to think about grassroots change, a society shift from the ground up. He fears that political divisiveness in Washington is splitting the country apart on the personal level.

If the situation does not change soon, Joyce said, “I really feel that my children will grow up in a America that doesn’t resemble anything like what I grew up in.”

Joyce tries to average 30 to 40 miles per day, following along the old Lincoln Highway. He carries water, food and camping equipment in his cart and pays for day to day needs with his own money or donations through a website he established. He suffers through cramps, calluses and the occasional sprain. After two weeks on the road, the car needs a little massage, as well. He plans to make repairs when he reaches North Platte.

It is not a normal summer outing.

“My mom she thinks I’m crazy, just like everyone else,” Joyce admitted. Yet she travels from her home in Missouri to put in short stints as his pilot car.

Perhaps her visits are the sign he has been looking for, the sense of personal action that keeps him going, one foot in front of the other.

“I just need people to march out there front doors and meet their neighbors,” he said. “We just need to start loving each other.”