THE WAVING, WALKING MAN

Brookings resident Ira Tozer seeks a reaction from motorists on the Chetco River bridge. (The Pilot/Scott Graves).

By Scott Graves

Pilot staff writer

Motorists in Brookings-Harbor don't quite know how to react to Ira Tozer.

The lean, muscular, 62-year-old Brookings man strides purposefully along Highway 101 facing oncoming traffic. Tiny earphones pump lively music into his ears. He smiles broadly from under his wide-brimmed Tilly hat and waves enthusiastically at passing cars, giving a hearty thumbs-up to motorists who wave back. He salutes every police officer or sheriff's deputy who drives by.

The drivers' reactions are as varied as the style of cars whizzing by at 40 and 50 mph. Some motorists honk their horns, or wave out their open window, or yell out "Hey!" Some do all three.

Others purposely ignore him. Some stare at him, probably thinking "What the ...?" Several give him dirty looks and a few even make obscene gestures.

"Those are the ones who are really hurting," Tozer said about the people who react negatively. "I say a prayer for them, hoping that some happiness will come into their lives."

Getting people to pause and enjoy just a moment of happiness is Tozer's goal.

"Walking and waving is my way of praying; a way of sending a little of God's love to people," he said.

Don't get Tozer wrong. He's a religious man, a member of the Seventh-day Adventist Church in Brookings, but walking and waving isn't part of a spiritual mission. It is a reaction to a life or death situation.

Tozer, a Vietnam veteran, went to the VA clinic in White City more than a year ago after experiencing some heart problems. The diagnosis was "blocked arteries."

"The doctor said I could walk out of his office and drop dead before I reached my car," Tozer recalled.

A few days later, he was taking a variety of heart medications, had changed his diet, was drinking more water and walking – a new activity for him.

"I was always the kind of person who would park my car and then back up and drive it two spaces over just to get closer to the entrance," he said.

When he's not walking, Tozer, a self-described "computer geek," spends his time fixing computers and teaching computer classes at the local community college campus. He spent the first years of his working life in the TV repair business, then landed a career job at IBM's office near San Francisco.

He spent many vacations with his first wife traveling around the country in a fifth-wheel trailer. When Tozer retired 20 years ago, the couple chose Brookings as their new home. His wife of more than 30 years died in Brookings. Tozer has since remarried.

Tozer has a soft spot for homeless people, taking to lunch those he encounters during his walks. "I never give them money," he said. "They'll just spend it on cigarettes and booze."

He has a plan to help Brookings' homeless: Put them to work cleaning up streets and businesses and pay them with food. "It would benefit everyone," he said.

As much as he enjoys teaching and helping the homeless, that joy it brings pales in comparison to the feeling he gets from walking and waving to cars. He's been doing it for six months.

"This walking thing has just taken off – more than I ever expected," he said. "It's bliss; better than anything I've ever done in my life."

Tozer has ditched the heart medications – they were causing stomach problems. He's maintaining a healthy diet and has increased the length of his walks, going from short trips around the block to longer treks to Harris Beach State Park and across the Chetco River bridge to Harbor.

One one such walk, Tozer had what he calls an epiphany.

"While I was walking, this man, Al, popped into my head," Tozer said.

He was referring to Al Rosengren, a long-time Smith River resident whom Tozer, while driving his car, had seen off and on for years, walking and waving to cars on Highway 101 south of the Oregon border.

"I always waved back and it felt good," Tozer said. "I thought I could do the same, making other people feel good."

Several months ago, Tozer spotted Rosengren walking and waving alongside the highway in Smith River. Tozer pulled his car over and caught up with the man.

"I told him all about my heart problems and how I started walking, and how he had inspired me to start waving at people," Tozer said.

Rosengren remembered that day. "It was rather nice to hear that," he said.

Rosengren, who retired from the military in 1964 after 20 years, moved to Smith River in 1969. He wouldn't give his age but said he was "significantly older" than Tozer.

Rosengren has always been a walker, logging up to eight miles a day until knee problems later in life limited that to four miles. He started waving to motorists during his early morning walks in Smith River as a safety precaution – to make them aware of his presence on the road. Today, he waves and smiles at people more for fun.

"It's wonderful – the people you meet," Rosengren said. "One year, at Christmas time, a car pulled over and a little girl came running toward me. She handed me a gift. It was a harmonica. I still have it today."

Tozer gets a similar charge from waving to motorists.

"I thought I would be the one making others feel good, but it really charges my batteries," he said.

Tozer walks two to three hours nearly every day, except when it's raining heavily. His goal has been to walk every street in Brookings-Harbor, including the roads along the Chetco and Winchuck rivers. He's met that goal – twice.

He also walks from his Brookings home to the Oregon/California border several times a month – a round trip of more than 10 miles that takes him a little more than two hours.

When waving to motorists, he gets more reactions from people in slow traffic areas such side streets and the construction zone at the north end of town. Drivers' reactions drop off in high-speed areas, such as Highway 101 through Harbor.

"Sometimes I can't wave fast enough to keep up with the cars, " he said, then added, true to character. "I apologize to anyone I've missed."

Tozer also greets fellow pedestrians he encounters on walks. While trekking across the Chetco River this week he held up both hands, high-five style, as he approached two young men. As with many people, the two men didn't quite know what to make of Tozer. They both gave him an awkward high five, igniting a big smile on Tozer's face.

Twenty minutes later, the same two men drove past in a car. Tozer waved. They waved back, unable to keep the smiles from their faces.

"See! That's what it's all about," he said.

When asked how many miles he walks each day, Tozer said he doesn't keep track.

"It's the smiles, not the miles, that matter."