After 51 days, thousands of miles and conversations with people across the country, Walk With Me reached New York City on Nov. 7. The final week took us from Washington, D.C., through Delaware, Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and along the way we met people who have spent their lives helping others feel they matter, four friends whose bond has lasted more than 50 years, college students finding their way through grief and researchers studying why connection is so essential to our health.
As we neared the end, something we'd heard for weeks came into sharper focus. Many people want deeper relationships and struggle with the time, trust and vulnerability it takes to build them. Some carry rejection or loss that makes reaching out feel risky, and others have grown so busy that relationships get whatever time is left over.
Those barriers carry a real cost. Chronic loneliness is a public health crisis that touches four in 10 U.S. adults. It increases the risk of early death by 26%, and around the world, about 100 people die every hour from causes linked to loneliness and social isolation. This final week showed us what meaningful connection asks of us and why it's worth the effort.
Day 46: Washington, D.C.
Our final week began at the Aspen Institute with Frederick J. Riley, executive director of Weave: The Social Fabric Project, which supports the often-unrecognized people who hold their communities together. Fred grew up in a community once labeled one of the most miserable places in America, and his strongest memories are of the adults who saw his potential and gave him their full attention. "I am who I am because of the images they put out," he said.
He compared growing up to walking through a maze blindfolded, guided by the sound of people clapping for you, and now he wants to be one of the people clapping. Trust sits at the center of his work. "Communities perish where people don't trust each other," Fred told us. He believes rebuilding it starts with everyday choices, like saying hello, introducing yourself to a neighbor and finding a way to pitch in.
Later that day, we visited Ben's Chili Bowl, founded by Ben and Virginia Ali in 1958. Their son, Sage Ali, welcomed us in and immediately insisted that we eat. Ben's opened during segregation and became a gathering place on U Street for artists, activists, families and neighbors. Sage remembered his mother feeding neighborhood children and making sure they finished their homework. Today, regulars still stop in just to be around people who know them, and staff work to make everyone feel welcome, including people experiencing homelessness. "Our job isn't just to serve food," Sage said. "It's about putting smiles on people's faces and having them walk out feeling better than they did when they came in."
Day 47: Wilmington, Delaware
The next day brought one of the most memorable conversations of the journey. In Wilmington, we met four men whose friendship has lasted more than 50 years: Lewis Cheatwood, known as Cheat; Francis Rogers, known as Frankie; Matthew Allen, known as Butchie; and Will Simpson, known as Itsy. They are members of the Hawks, a community organization that grew out of a group of neighborhood boys who looked out for one another in a tough part of town. A mentor named William "Hicks" Anderson kept them in school, held them accountable and guided them into a club built around serving their neighborhood. "He made us proud to be who we were," Itsy told us.
Over five decades, they've come through hard relationships, loss and serious illness together. When one of them goes quiet, the others reach out. Frankie described loneliness in a way that showed why that trust matters. "Loneliness is when you are carrying something in your heart and you don't want to let it out." When Itsy had a stroke that left him temporarily unable to speak, his friends kept showing up. "I knew I couldn't do a lot of things, but I could smile because I was with my friends," he said.
Frankie put it plainly. "Without these guys right here, I would be the loneliest man in the world. I'd have nothing." The Hawks have built what so many people spend their lives searching for, a circle that stays present through life's hardest moments. Their motto says it all. "Hawks don't die, we fly."
Day 48: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
In Philadelphia, Professor Bryan McCormick of Temple University talked with us about how smaller families, fragmented work schedules and a culture that prizes productivity leave little room for unhurried time with friends. He once asked his students to spend an hour doing nothing, and they struggled to finish the assignment. "Listening requires presence, and presence requires time," he told us. He also described "fringeships," the familiar faces in everyday life, like the barista who remembers your order, that help us feel recognized and connected to the world around us.
Day 49: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
At the University of Pennsylvania, we met Johnathan and Athallah, two sophomores involved with StudentsCare, which connects college volunteers with children and older adults in hospitals and care settings. Johnathan lost his mother in 2021. Through high school, he often avoided telling people because he feared how they would respond, and he described feeling as though part of himself had died with her. In college, through student groups, he slowly found people who made him feel safe sharing more of himself, and now he helps create that same support for others.
Athallah came to Penn from Southern California without an established support system and talked about the pressure young people feel to change themselves to fit in. "If I don't feel wanted in a space, then I'll leave," he told us. Their stories reminded us that the people offering support are often carrying something of their own, and that giving to someone else can be part of how we find belonging ourselves.
Day 50: Princeton, New Jersey
Our final interview brought us to Princeton University and Professor Diana Tamir, who studies the social neuroscience of human connection. "Being lonely is one of the most devastating experiences a person can have," she told us, describing connection as essential to our well-being as food and water.
Diana's research shows that people consistently underestimate how good it feels to talk with strangers. After 50 days on the road, that rang true. So many of our most meaningful encounters began when someone took a small social risk. She also compared AI companionship to M&Ms. They're enjoyable and easy to reach for, and a person still needs real nourishment to stay healthy. Their popularity shows how deeply people long for connection.
Her research also offers encouragement. When someone shares a painful need, people often respond with empathy. Letting someone see that need can feel frightening, especially after rejection or loss, and meaningful connection asks us to find the courage to take that risk. That afternoon, we walked along the Delaware and Raritan Canal in the rain, and the quiet gave us time to think before the final walk into New York.
Day 51: New York City
On Nov. 7, we walked the Hudson River Greenway and into Central Park, the same park where, years ago, Lucy first told her daughter out loud that she was chronically lonely. That moment became the seed of The Cost of Loneliness Project and, eventually, Walk With Me. Coming back to Central Park at the end of the journey felt deeply meaningful.
Over 51 days, we met people living with chronic loneliness and people giving their lives to helping others feel less alone. We heard about the isolation that can follow retirement, a lost job, a move or a serious illness, and we sat with people carrying grief, addiction and the fear of being judged.
The journey made it clearer than ever that chronic loneliness is a public health crisis. It shows up in our bodies, linked to higher risks of heart disease, depression and early death. It shows up at work, where Gallup estimates employee disengagement, measured in part by whether people feel cared about, valued and connected, costs U.S. workplaces about $2 trillion a year. And it shows up in our communities, as trust wears thin and the places that once brought neighbors together disappear.
What we've learned along the way
Over eight weeks, a handful of ideas surfaced again and again, from the first steps in California to the last ones in Central Park. People need to feel that they matter. Carlos in California found belonging in a gang because it gave him a place to be noticed. A man in St. Charles asked, "Am I significant to anybody anymore?" And we saw what happens when people feel needed, from the woman veteran at Veterans Community Project in Longmont who found her voice leading a community garden to the employees at Annie B's Homemade Ice Cream near Asheville who hear every day, "You matter. We need you."
Trust opens the door to deeper connection. The Hawks showed us what 50 years of trust can make possible, and Asheville neighbors who already knew one another became a lifeline after Hurricane Helene. We also heard how shame keeps people silent. Kelly, whom we met through Living Through Loss in Frederick, told us her son struggled to reach out even though he was deeply loved.
Relationships need time and attention. Johnny in Wytheville built "a great army" around him through breakfast with friends almost every morning. The Topeka Trail Runners watched a quiet newcomer keep showing up until he felt at home. Too often, connection becomes something we hope to fit in after everything else is done.
Our surroundings shape our chances to connect. Kelvin Watson of the Las Vegas-Clark County Library District helped put phones in the hands of people without homes so they could get the call that there was a place to stay. Jeff in Topeka told us seeing people means buying gas he can't always afford. We walked roads in Tennessee and North Carolina with no sidewalks at all. And in Brownville, Nebraska, a village of about 150 people hosts a Thanksgiving dinner for hundreds, proof of what a welcome can do. As Victoria in Lawrence told us, sometimes it starts with someone saying, "Hi, come on in."
We need to get more comfortable talking about loneliness. Saya Hillman of Mac & Cheese Productions still remembers standing alone in a middle school cafeteria, looking for somewhere to sit. At Salem College in Winston-Salem, Lucy reminded a room full of people that we should be able to say "I'm lonely" without feeling like a failure. Jamie in Frederick put it best: "Shame keeps us in the darkness and healing happens in the light."
The people working to bring others together gave us enormous hope, and they showed us how much is left to do. For every Hawks, Living Through Loss or Adopt an Airman we found, there are many communities with nothing like them, and millions of people with no one to call when life gets hard. Much of modern life was designed for speed and efficiency, and connection has too often been left out of the plan. As a country, we are still nowhere near meeting the need.
That is why addressing chronic loneliness will take all of us. Health systems can ask patients about connection the way they ask about blood pressure. Employers can build workplaces where people feel valued and known. Schools, city planners and policymakers can make belonging part of how they design and fund our communities. And every one of us can be the neighbor, friend or coworker who reaches out first.
The work continues
We're deeply grateful to everyone who welcomed us into their communities and trusted us with their stories. Those stories will continue to guide The Cost of Loneliness Project, and they've made our work feel more urgent than ever.
On Nov. 12, the first National Day of Connection, we're inviting people across the country to Take 12 at 12, spending 12 intentional minutes at noon connecting with someone. Call a friend you haven't talked to in a while. Knock on a neighbor's door. Invite a coworker to lunch. And on Nov. 13, the real work begins, as we carry that same intention into every day that follows.
Walk With Me carried us across America and into the lives of people who changed how we understand connection. The journey brought us to New York, and the work of connection belongs to all of us.
Join us on Nov. 12 for the first National Day of Connection. At noon, take 12 minutes with someone you want to know better, and encourage others to do the same.
