Powerlines and Purpose: A Lineman’s Dream

“I had a buddy I played ball with,” Kevin recalls. “His dad was a lineman, and he showed me the ropes. Took me out behind his house where he had an old pole set up in the field. Let me strap on his climbing gear, mess around a little. I just... fell in love with it. With all of it.”

There’s a certain grit that comes with being a lineman. It's a job defined by long days, long distances, and high stakes. Kevin Walker is a contract lineman, meaning he travels wherever he’s needed, from storm-ravaged towns to remote poles needing upgrades. The work is hard, often dangerous, and rarely easy. But to Kevin, that’s part of the appeal.

“It’s challenging,” he says. “And not everyone’s willing to do it. That makes it mean more.”

Like many in the trade, Kevin’s journey wasn’t without its tests. The apprenticeship was grueling. “There’s just so much to learn, so many mistakes to avoid,” he says. “But when you finally become a lineman–when you’ve earned that title–it’s a feeling of pride you don’t forget.”

Now, several years in, Kevin has started to look at the road ahead with a different lens. His goals have shifted. They’re no longer about climbing the next rung on the ladder, but about slowing down to cherish what really matters.

“My oldest daughter is almost seven, my son’s five, and my youngest girl’s about to turn three,” Kevin says. “I’ve spent years on the road working 60, 70 hours a week. I don’t want to miss more than I already have. Being a good provider is important, but now I want to be more present as a husband, and as a father.”

That sense of responsibility, both to his work and his family, defines Kevin. He carries it to every job, every pole, every hour on the road. And it’s also what he looks for in his boots.

“Comfort is huge,” he explains. “Sometimes you’re working 16-hour days, especially after storms. Your boots have to hold up. Durability, comfort, waterproofing… all of it matters. EH-rated, safety toe, steel shank in the arch for climbing. You’re on your feet all day. You need something that can take it.”

For Kevin, Justin’s Homeland collection does just that. “These boots are made to work. Just like we are.”

Raised by his mom and grandparents in a small town, Kevin’s early years were spent on baseball fields, chasing sunlit dreams and learning the value of hard work through sports. That same drive eventually carried him into a line of work far above the ground, quite literally.

And when he talks about the American Dream, Kevin doesn’t speak in grand, abstract terms. For him, it’s simple. “It’s the freedom to follow Jesus. To raise my family the way I believe in. To go out and make a living with my hands. That’s all a guy could ask for.”

“I know there are people who can’t do what I do for physical reasons, or circumstances outside their control. So, I don’t take it for granted. I get to help power this country. That’s not small. That means something.”

It’s that quiet sense of pride, of purpose, that the Homeland collection was built to honor. Boots for those who don’t just clock in, they show up, they sacrifice, they build. Hands like Kevin’s.

There’s a quiet nobility in the trade, one that doesn’t always get recognition but has never been about recognition anyway. It’s about showing up when the weather breaks bad. About stepping forward when others step back. About believing that honest work still holds an unspoken dignity all its own.

In the end, it isn’t just the powerlines that connect a lineman to his community, it’s the commitment. The willingness to trade comfort for contribution. To work in the shadows so others never notice the dark. To walk the line between sacrifice and satisfaction, knowing there’s no other way he’d rather earn his place in the world.

These are the hands of the Homeland.