As your elected king for a time, I decree that we henceforth spell kodgers with a "K" to distinguish ourselves from mobile codgers who move to escape. Mobile Kodgers move to generate meaning. I will flesh out this theory later.
Pictured is your king on the open road, humbled by the beauty of Monument Valley, quoting to himself the immortal words of that greatest Kodger poet Walt Whitman:
Each man and woman of you I lead upon a knoll;
My left hand hooks you round the waist,
My right hand points to landscapes of continents, and a plain public road.
Not I, not anyone else can travel that road for you.
You must travel it for yourself.
It is not far...it is within reach.
Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,
Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.
Shoulder your duds and I will mine, and let us hasten forth;
Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go.
If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest your hand on my hip,
And in due time you shall repay the same service for me;
For after we start, we never lie by again.
Long enough have you dreamed contemptible dreams.
Now I wash the gum from your eyes;
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and
of every moment of your life.
Long have you waded timidly by the shore, holding on to a plank.
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, and rise again and
nod to me and shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.
