As we slow under the bridges and chug through tunnels winding through canyons I can't help but contemplate the massive collective effort this railway and system of connection truly is.

I love to travel by train. This method of travel gives a different experience and you have to know what you are in for. My favorite part of trains is that it forces me to slow down. In every way. It also allows my husband to carry my floral bag too...so there's that!

The routes may not be as direct and you have to go where the tracks lead. America just looks different from the lounge car where you see the backside and underside of so much of American life and country that can't be noticed from a jet speeding overhead. There is a subtle beauty, a quiet strength in watching the concrete workers, farmers, taxi drivers, small towns and large cities click by in the connected rhythms of the tracks.

As we slow under the bridges and chug through tunnels winding through canyons I can't help but contemplate the massive collective effort this railway and system of connection truly is. So much labor, sweat and history went into these structures, and I wonder at the forgotten stories they hold.


New landscapes pique my attention and draw me back to favorite novels that I imagined just like this.

The many and varied people who cross paths are high on my list of reasons trains call to me. For the gentle bump and sway of the passenger cars provides time to listen and watch and begin to get a glimpse of the complexity and beauty of the diversities of the human experience.  There is a woman lovingly stitching a handicrafted wedding gift for her niece as she heads to the event near Harpers Ferry. A Baptist woman from the Deep South sharing her travels to explore and study religion around the world with anyone who will listen. The deaf gentleman (how else can you describe an elderly man in a 3 piece suit with his cap just so) who takes the time to tap on the shoulder of a woman who helped him and wave goodbye before he gets off at his station. An artist showing her work while her sponsor (now husband❤️- they have a touching love story) looks on with pride. At each stop the population ebbs and flows. Black, white, young, old, rich, poor, Asian, Amish, ...... a wonderful blend of cultures as some work on laptops and cell phones and others color or crochet. Dutch, Spanish, English are understood and a few new dialects tickle my ears in a quest for recognition. I wonder who they are and what they are saying. 

My husband is a willing partner to these travels, even though the neverending delays try his patience. I know he probably wouldn't pick this mode of travel, preferring the speed of air and control of his hands on his own steering wheel. I love him all the more because he does it for me. We are engaged on the train playing casual games or cards (or sometimes less casual as we both have competitive streaks that need to be kept in check). 

The seats are spacious - especially compared to the chin to knees cramped quarters on airlines. I have found the staff to be courteous and apologetic when issues are out of their control. The porter at the first station watched our baggage while George took me to get dinner. On the train the conductor led us to our seats and has checked with us many times. 

You can see skyscrapers and skylines like Pittsburgh. 

Or the muddy waters of the Youghiogheny River surrounded by green capped mountains nestled in mists of eerie beauty. 
No matter what your destination...there is a magic in riding the rails that I haven't found in any other way. Yes you will probably be late...we are running 2 hrs late today....but knowing that and planning accordingly means that I just have more time to lean against this man I love and escape into a book. And reading together makes any journey a worthwhile one for us. 

No cleaning birds in the bathtub.

     We have been on an extended family reunion circuit road trip with our family. Several weeks ago as we headed across the country,  George pulled into the designated stop for the night much to the horror of my teens. Alex promptly stated that this was a place for witness protection people. Ella said she was sure we would die. Let me note the pickings were slim in South Dakota for Hotels on our route, or excuse me motels, as Ella quickly corrected my usage of the terms. George had in his true to man way selected the lodgings based on breakfast reviews promising homemade cinnamon rolls. 

     But I digress. Back to the gravel parking lot and as we turned the key in the outdoor locks and the girls had to make the choice between entering or being dive-bombed by swarms of small bird size insects they followed us in. Ignoring Alex's advice that "this is why we should avoid a life of crime or you have to live in places like this", I was trying to be reassuring and positive while dubiously looking around myself.  I noted that the front cover of the hotel binder simply said "If you need help call 9-11".  Apparently we were skipping the front desk here! 

     I flipped the book open to find this:

Okay. My mind went full into panic mode. In what world did such a notice about bird cleaning even need to be stated!!?!? Various scenarios flashed through my mind from an eccentric old woman trying to bathe her canary to a full on cult running some kind of ceremony in the hotel bathroom. As I was debating how to get our money back or if I should get something to cover the bedding for us I took a deep breath and paused. The room was clean. 

What else? There was a fly swatter hanging on the wall. Gross, I thought. Then wait, there were currently 70 billion swarming insects just outside the door and I know how much of a night's sleep can be ruined by a pesky buzzing fly or mosquito. Okay, I can see this was meant to be helpful.        

     George came in and with a laugh at us all explained we were in a pheasant hunting area. Suddenly with just one tiny piece of knowledge my entire view shifted. I was suddenly the most ardent supporter of the bird rule. I would probably have made the sign more colorful and included graphics- well maybe not. But I certainly didn't want to use the shower after a pheasant had been gutted and I'm quite sure the proprietor didn't want to clean the mess up! 

     We've laughed about this story several times over the last couple of weeks but I keep falling back on the fact that with my incomplete knowledge of the situation my perspective and judgement were flawed and unfair. I wonder how often that happens in our lives with others each day. I wonder if pausing and seeking understanding can help me shift my thinking. Sometimes that understanding may not shift my view but it will at least build humanity. Oh, and the cinnamon rolls were excellent!