• Jon Lott



    Cross-Country Hitchhiker

    Independent U.S. House Candidate, 2020 (MA-8)

  • This is not my campaign website. 

    This is a personal website.

  • About Me


    A licensed educator in Massachusetts for English, History, and Latin, I've taught at eight schools (and counting!) across New England, from Greenwich, CT to Stoughton, as well as in China and Saudi Arabia. I have taught Latin, World Cultures, U.S. History, American Government, Public Speaking, Leadership, and English as a Second Language. I recently finished a year teaching ESL at a university in southern Saudi Arabia.


    After returning from hitchhiking, I ran for Massachusetts State Senate in 2016. I, then twenty-four years old, campaigned as an Independent and won 19,811 votes, about 26% of the total. I was outspent over 200:1 in the most expensive state race that year, and I was the youngest candidate for state office in Massachusetts that year.


    Today, in 2020, I am running as an independent again, for the U.S. House of Representatives, in Massachusetts' 8th District. Visit my campaign website!


    In March 2016, I hitchhiked across the United States, from Washington, D.C. to L.A. in 17 days, spending less than $100 en route. The book, Hitchhike America, is currently available online, and I've love it if you bought a copy!


    I spent a month and a half in East Africa in early 2017, where I wrote, produced, directed, and edited a documentary about the culture and environment of Tanzania, available here, on my Youtube channel.


    I have also penned four one-act plays, one about Achilles, the legendary warrior, which you can find here; another one on the death of Socrates, which can be found here; and a third about Alexander the Great, found here. Or click here to read them all in one big PDF. A fourth play, a comic Greek tragedy about President Donald Trump, can be found further down this page.


    I am also producing a narrative adventure podcast detailing my Summer 2017 misadventure searching for the hidden treasure of Forrest Fenn.

  • Follow me


    snapchat: MrJonLott

  • Education

    "I have never let my schooling interfere with my education." -Mark Twain


    University of Vermont

    B.A. 2014, GPA 3.5

    Bachelor's Degree in English and Classical Civilization

    Minors in Latin and Film Studies


    -Dean's List 4 of 8 total semesters

    -Edward J. Gormley Award

    -Best UVMtv Fundraiser, 2014

    -Runner-Up in Benjamin B Wainwright Poetry Contest for my poem "In the Shadow of St. Paul's"

    -Departmental Honors, English

    -Teaching Assistant, Film Department, 2013-2014

    -Gallery Guard at Fleming Museum, 2012-2014

  • My Resume

    Want to hire me? Or just want to see my credential and work history?

    Get a copy of my resume below.

  • a selection from my memoir, Hitchhike America

    from Day 5, Memphis


    It was around 1:00 PM and I was getting hungry. It felt like my stomach shrank since I began my adventure; I wasn’t eating much, and I wasn’t eating often, but I rarely felt like I could eat much. I had adapted to a meager diet in five days.


    I hit the crosswalk light, hoisted my backpack on, and waited for the light to change, my thumb still sticking out, pointing to the heavens. The last car zoomed by and the light turned red, and I began walking to a patch of grass where I intended to eat some of my bread. That’s when I heard a shout.


    “You want a lift?” I turned, but I couldn’t see who yelled. A shaggy-looking man in overalls bounded to the crosswalk, with long black hair and an unkempt beard on top of a worn, black bandana.


    “Yeah,” I shouted back, as he approached, stuck on the opposite side of the street. “Where are you going?”


    “Little Rock!”




    And so it was that I met Saul and Kara, two twenty-something friends on their way to Arkansas. They had been the very last car I stood hitchhiking in front of before I had decided to take a break.


    We stuffed my backpack into their car, which was loaded with junk. They were coming back from Saul’s uncle’s house, where they had been cleaning it for the past day and night. His uncle was a hoarder, so odd treasures lined his compact, white automobile: a large metronome, books, clothes, a cactus, empty mason jars, some hats, a jaw harp, packets of seeds, and much, much more.


    I sat in the front next to Kara, a large, friendly woman with a tuft of purple-dyed hair. She was driving, operating on fewer than three hours of sleep from the night before. Saul was running on no sleep, cramped in the back with his guitar and a bust of Johannes Sebastian Bach on his lap.


    “You reminded me of Paul Simon,” Kara told me. “I said, ‘Saul, we have to stop for this man,’ and Saul was cool with it, so we pulled over. You’re lucky we found you. I made a wrong turn a little while back, and we wouldn’t have even been on this street if I had gone the way I wanted.”


    We crossed over the Mississippi River, a symbolic marker to the true American Midwest. Behind us stood the blues capital of the world, ahead lay the open fields and lakes of Arkansas.


    “I like your bandanas,” Saul told me. “It’s part of hobo culture to wear the same bandana for a long time. It’s like a mark of status how dirty and crusty they get.”


    “I never wear mine,” I admitted. “They’re mostly for show, and to add some color to my bag. Sometimes I use them to dry things.”


    “You don’t smoke do you?” Kara asked me. I noticed some cigarettes and rolling papers on the dashboard.


    “No, but it doesn’t bother me much if you do.”


    “I was going to roll one up.”


    “While you’re driving?” Kara was going close to 70 mph down a highway, with a truck ahead of us and a van close behind.


    “Yeah,” she said.


    “Let me roll it,” I insisted. “You’re going too fast and running on too little sleep and you really ought to keep a hand on the wheel.”


    “You can roll?”


    “I haven’t been out of college for that long,” I said. “Besides, how well can someone roll while driving?”


    “You’d be surprised,” Saul said. “She’s awful good.”


    I took a book on Zen gardening from the floor and laid it on my lap, and put the tobacco and papers on top. Kara wanted me to use half the tobacco from a cigarette—American Spirit—to roll one cigarette, and the other half for a second. Saul tore the filter in half so I could use it in both. A few minutes later I produced two small cigarettes.


    Kara took one and started fumbling for a lighter. She found a small black lighter, but it didn’t work. She kept looking for another, under disposable cups and on the shag floor of the vehicle.


    “Eyes on the road,” I cautioned. I felt safer with Mannix driving than with her. “I’ve got one somewhere.”


    I pulled out my all-in-one tool, a can opener, tiny knife, corkscrew, and butane lighter. I lit the cigarette for her, as we sped into the heart of Arkansas.


    “You see all these little lakes?” Saul asked, pointing to the side of the road. Tiny bodies of shimmering water dotted the landscape, and thick, leafless trees jutted out from the lakes, crying for the sun, their bodies reflected in the clear water. “There are loads of tiny ponds from tributaries of the Mississippi. They’re technically parts of rivers, but they’re so calm. They’ve been cut off from the river’s current.”


    “They’re beautiful,” I said.


    “It reminds me of Huck Finn, rafting down the Mississippi. I can imagine him fishing at any one of these. That reminds me,” he said, clearing his throat, “of a little song I wrote about Arkansas.”


    And Saul spontaneously broke into song, a gentle lilting folk song about Arkansas, the Natural State, accompanied by his guitar. I wish I remembered the lyrics, or the tune, but I’ve forgotten it all.

  • Hit Me Up!

    Want to talk? Want me to talk? Want to send me a thought/inquiry/death threat?  You can contact me here, or email me, or tweet me @MrJonLott

  •   Achilles

    Read the play I wrote (in iambic pentameter) about the famous Greek warrior.

  • Hemlock

    Read the one-act tragedy I penned about the death of Socrates.

  • The Great

    Read the one-act (iambic pentameter!) play I wrote about Alexander the Great.

  • Mr. President

    I wrote a bizarre tragicomedy criticizing President Trump in the style of the ancient Greeks. Click the download button to read it for yourself!

  • Other Projects

    Tanzania: From the Inside

    I spent 6 weeks in East Africa, and later made this 26-minute documentary about the culture and environment of Tanzania.


    I take a lot of timelapses. Here are a few I did in 2014 on top of Mt. Hadley.


    I also take photographs. Here's a short slideshow of some images.

  • Gallon

    Keep the momentum of the gallon going!

  • Let's Be Friends

    A directory of my social media.






    Linked In