SOME NOTABLE TRAVELERS

By Edwin Cooney

Riding across country by train isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I like it. One might say that it’s even in my blood. Perhaps my love for train travel comes from my maternal grandfather who worked on the Delaware & Lackawanna railroad for much of his life. The steady drone of the engine accompanied by the clicking of steel wheels on steel ties is something I find both relaxing and comforting. There’s something almost mystical if not spiritual about the sound and continuum of the rail trail.

Seniors and persons with disabilities who ride today’s Amtrak between the west coast and Chicago have the option of riding in a special compartment which is located in the lower part of the doubled-decked cars which service such trains as the California Zephyr, the Coast Starlight, and the Super Chief.

It’s been my experience that passengers who sign up to ride in that portion of the train start the trip in their own isolation but, as the hours pass and the first night of a two, three or four day trip descends, they begin to exchange pleasantries and observations with one another. They may talk of the temperature aboard the car or the service being provided or not being provided by Amtrak personnel. Inevitably, as the dawn of the second day brings the sun, all are ready to at least begin bonding with those whom they’ve now spent a full night.

Valerie is a sixty-one-year-old lady who I’m sure is regarded as pleasant by her worst enemy—if indeed she could possibly ever have one. The mother of three boys, Valerie was on her way to Denver to urge her ailing mom to give up her place in an assisted living facility to come live with her in sunny California. My guess is that the number of people who own computers in this country far exceeds the number of people who would make such an offer even to mama—especially if they live with territorial spouses! Valerie lives with no spouse, but her love for her mother, even if by no means unique, was both obvious and deep.

I’d never met either a sheepherder or a gravedigger until I met Narce. Born in America of Basque parentage, Narce spoke with a considerable foreign accent, but he was both interested and concerned about the welfare of his fellow passengers. He overheard me tell someone else that I’d left my electric razor at home and the next morning offered me two of those handy disposable razors from his supply. Narce was on his way to join his brother, for whom he has much love and affection, for a vacation in the Colorado wilds.

My original reaction to another passenger, Mac (or “Choo-Choo” as he likes to be called), was a bit negative. Very early in the trip he was talking with someone about his crippled legs (he can both stand and walk, but it’s a painful struggle for him to do either) and asserted that though he had crippled legs he was “no cripple.” The thought occurred to me that this man’s impression of disability was not only arcane but harshly insensitive. I didn’t expect to like him much. However, as the hours passed and I learned of his love and appreciation for Americana, the railroad and for his family, I felt a considerable degree of empathy and appreciation for him. “Choo-Choo,” though a man well past seventy, was crossing the country to visit a daughter in Washington, D.C. From there he was going to see his brother in Oklahoma who he told us was in even worse physical shape. Furthermore, although he is retired from his job as a sugar processor in California, he keeps busy doing American Indian beadwork. He also spends much time at the old railroad that is part of the Crockett Historical Museum near his home. As his fellow passengers left the train he had a little gift for each of us that reflects his hobbies and interests. My gift was a pin of the Railroad Museum.

Dave, who is hobbled by a bad hip and a bad ankle--on opposite sides of his anatomy--still gamely performs his job as a mover of heavy equipment. When a municipality in Colorado purchases a fire engine or a dump truck, it’s Dave’s job to drive that piece of equipment to its destination. Perhaps his cheery disposition throughout the trip is a product of his road experience, but I like to think it’s simply something with which he was born. Dave was bound for his Elkhart, Indiana home from where he would begin another road adventure.

While it’s indeed possible to have ridden with an even more remarkable group of people, it’s equally true that any one of these people I’ve mentioned in these paragraphs would enhance any group of which they may at any time be a part.

I spent a total of fifty-seven hours aboard Train Number Six that traveled between Oakland, California and Chicago, Illinois. If the train ride was the essential backdrop of this most pleasant theater, the people I met were the stars.

RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,

EDWIN COONEY