Trains

A few days ago, a friend sent me a link to a video clip of Arlo Guthrie and Pete Seeger in concert at Wolftrap (in Virginia). The year was 1997, and the song was"The City of New Orleans." I remember that concert. We were sitting on the lawn even though, by then, we could afford real seats. The blanket on the grass, the remnants of the picnic, and the empty wine bottles were the only real way to experience Arlo and Pete. But it is the song that always reaches out to me because trains run like a leitmotif throughout my life.

I was born into a railroad family. My grandfather, my father, and my uncle were all railroad engineers. So we rode the trains for free! We went everywhere on the train . . . thirty miles to my grandmother's or 300 miles to Dallas. Going anywhere by automobile was a luxury. The country was at war, factories were making weapons, not automobiles, and gasoline was rationed. Commercial air travel was virtually non existent. The train was the way to go. . . the only way.

During the war (WWII, by the way), I often took the train from Little Rock to Benton to visit my grandmother. The starting point was Union station, a crowded, bustling center of strange sights, interesting people, and magical possibilities. The high vaulted ceiling and the wooden pew-like benches made me think of church and evoked a kind of awe. But the real attraction was the newstand that held center stage. It was a wonderland of newspapers, books, magazines, candy bars, soft drinks . . . all the essentials for a long train ride. Union Station in Little Rock is now a mini-mall with small shops, restaurants, and bars.

I always sat next to the conductor (a family friend). The time passed quickly. I was very, very busy looking at my new comic books, drinking icy water from the triangle paper cups at the water fountain, and exploring the rest room. Soon I was waving to my grandmother waiting patiently for me on the platform. 

I rode the train to Memphis to visit my cousins; I rode the train to Dallas when I went away to college. In 1960, I finally went on my first airplane adventure. I was not impressed, but planes replaced trains, and my love affair with the rails gave way to the need for speed.

However, I've experienced a few remarkable train trips since then. In the late 80s, before the Berlin wall came down, I was in Czechoslovakia and took a train from Pilsan to Prague, a unique and memorable journey through an eastern bloc country that gave me insights I still value. During the 90s, I took the train from Amersterdam to Paris. Just a few years ago, I took the night train from San Franciso to Portland. When I woke up high in the Cascades, above the snow line, I fel in love all over again.

It's about time we brought back the magic of trains.