Train People

The magic on a long-distance train trip isn't only to be found in the panorama of America outside the windows. Many fond memories of trips on Amtrak are of the people met and the conversations sparked along the way. Some are upscale travelers who use the time for working or correspondence in glorious privacy in their compartments, people coming from smaller towns that are not served well by air, economy-minded travelers in coach, and retirees. Many are people who just do not need, or do not want, to cross the country in a blink: they want to see what's in between, as well. Train travel attracts a unique breed, whose stories are as compelling as the unfolding scenery.

The next bedroom to ours on the Southwest Chief was that of an older couple who were taking a retirement train trip to California, followed by a cruise. The trip was a retirement present from his company, an office equipment supplier. He had been in charge of a dwindling group that repaired manual typewriters and adding machines. As an additional retirement gift, his company was letting him take that part of the business with him to start a new venture! They didn't want it anymore, and he figured that the business would wind down at a rate equivalent to the amount he would want to be working in his "retirement" years.
Also on the Southwest Chief, we had lunch with a young couple who had gotten on in New Mexico. They were returning from a visit with his sister, and it had been profoundly distressing for him. The sister had gotten thoroughly enmeshed in the new age culture of Santa Fe. The young fellow said that she was squandering money she had gotten from a divorce settlement on various crystals, therapies and lectures. But what was worse, he said, was that she no longer seemed able to carry on a normal conversation: Every line of discussion, every expressed thought, led to some new age reference or belief. Several times he told us that he felt that he had lost a sister.
On the City of New Orleans, on the way to Memphis, I enjoyed dinner with a 17-year-old boy who just graduated from high school in McHenry. He was on his way to visit a buddy in Mississippi on his first trip ever out of the state of Illinois. I found that his main interest in life was fire: He had been an Eagle scout, earning badges in fire prevention, he volunteered at the firehouse, and when he started community college in the fall he was going to major in fire safety and EMT training. His Dad was a fireman, but, no, that isn't where he got his interest: he got his Dad the job! (Hanging around the firehouse, he heard of the opening, and told his Dad who had been laid off.) He asked me what I did, and inquired as to my travels. I told him I travelled on business to California, Washington, New YorkŠ At that point, he interrupted and said, "New York! Oh, New York! I'd just love to visit New York someday! I hear they have some amazing ways of fighting fires!"
On the Broadway Limited, I had dinner with an Episcopal priest who was on a two-week vacation to help collect himself after having been discharged by his Times Square congregation.
On the Lake Shore Limited, I had a long conversation with a man who was returning from a presentation at the Federal Aviation Administration in Washington. He was a career-long seasoned expert in aircraft navigation and control electronics, and was part of a team that had been to the FAA to promote a new system for radar-directed landings at major airports. He never flies on business, he always takes the train.
Another trip on the Lake Shore found a young couple, recently married, who were moving to Chicago from New York to a new city, new jobs and a new life together. Their possessions were in transit, so the train was a good way of taking a mini-vacation at the same time. We spent a good deal of time talking about their new city's attractions.
The dome car on the Capitol Limited always is a gathering place for some of the most interesting train travelers. On one trip, a man and his son were taking a rare trip alone, away from Mom and the other siblings. It was a special time for the two of them, as father and son talked endlessly about the train, what they were seeing outside and about just everything in their lives.
Also in the Capitol's dome car, on another trip, a lively conversation started between two men who I judged were unlikely to have met in other circumstances. One was a mellow-looking and genial man in his sixties, the other was a long-haired, somewhat scruffy fellow around 25. The younger man was a musician in a metal rock band, but his heart was in jazz, which was also a passion of the older gentleman's. For an hour they talked of jazz history, jazz classics and great musicians.

For every person with an unusual story, there are several with more ordinary but nonetheless delightful reports: the new grandparents on their way to see their grandchild for the first time, businesspeople on short trips to clients for industries I hadn't heard of before, legislators and bureaucrats traveling to Springfield or Washington, and simple vactioners. And the price of admission to all of these stories, plain or unusual, is a ticket on a train.

Sights from the Train

In mid-December, every small town whose main street crosses the tracks is showing its Christmas finery.
The endless vastness of Montana -- From awaking in the morning to a frost-covered farmland through passing an inn late at night: this was a Sunday that I'll remember always.

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