Day 32 on the Camino Way

Kevin The Canadian Teacher

This is a corn drying bin. In NW Iowa we would call this a corn crib. I learned this from Kevin, a 6’ 6” school teacher from British Columbia. He and I walked together for almost three miles. He must have pointed out at least a dozen of these. I never noticed them before, now I see them everywhere. They have actually become a symbol for the corn culture in this neck of the woods. Even homes in the suburbs have them and some have crosses on them or rooster weather vanes. They’re cool.

This one was right on the road where we walked. There was one that was in a park that had a cross on top. Another one in a suburban home had a rooster weather vane on top. Both were too far away for a good photo and I was too hot, tired and crabby to walk over and get a proper picture. Sorry.

The corn crib’s not the point anyway, Kevin is. As we walked we chatted about our journey thus far. Kevin and his wife, JoAnn, started in Sarria so they are in his words, ”baby Camino people.” Of course, I didn’t argue. They had planned to do the whole thing, but COVID came and plans changed.

The Question?

Sooner or later I get asked what I do or did for a living. Kevin got around to asking. ”Well,” I said, ”I was a teacher early on, like you. Then I went to Seminary and I’ve been a pastor-type guy for about 40 years.”

Twenty or so yards of silence. Then Kevin said, ”I have a son who is gay. Are you someone I can walk with?”

They say that at one time or another, everyone who walks the Camino finds a moment where they cry/weep. Of all the moments over 32 days—when I was hurting physically, when I was exhausted, when the flies drove me crazy, when Sally fell, when our friends left us to bike—of all those times of pain and sadness, this was the moment that I cried.

And then, so did Kevin.

Buen Camino!