This Train
There is something about trains that is a part of American culture, and history. Even before there were cars and freeways, which are now the chosen mode of transportation and modern culture, there were trains...
There is a certain romanticism about trains, songs and stories written about them down through the years, the sound of a lonesome train whistle in the middle of the night, songs like "Midnight Train" by Elvis Presley, or "City of New Orleans" by Arlo Guthrie, "I Walk the Line" by Johnny Cash...and 'hobo songs' like "King of the Road" by Roger Miller, they immediately conjure up an image of a long train ride through the heart of America.....I thought of these things when I took a train ride last week....
I took a ride on Amtrak from Oakland to Hanford, California over the Christmas holiday, which I have done many times, but this time I seemed to be more acutely aware of the never-ending panorama of people, and places that a simple train ride can showcase. A ride in a plane is somewhat the same thing, a small collection of people gathered together at one point in time, their various lives and destinations all bundled up in an aluminum tube at 30,000 feet, though somewhat confined to their seats, unless the seatbelt sign is off....but you get there quicker!
Riding the train is more pourous and fluid, it takes longer to get to your destination, and along the way people get off, and new people get on, like an evolution of a journey. And the people you see are less restrained by seat belts, as you can roam among the train.
The two greatest things about riding the train is, again, the never-ending panorama, and the people on the train itself.
As it winds through landscapes not normally seen by car, it reveals a window view of fields, farms, stockyards, graveyards of ancient machinery and tractors, as if it was a museum of what things were like back in the 40's, because indeed, some of those things look like they haven't been touched since then.
As you approach a town, you can see people's back-yards, doughboy swimming pools, swing sets, gardens, derelict cars, junkyards, then you realize that the tracks usually pass through the 'poor side of town' and here's a front row view. But then you realize that each of these homes, and the people who live in them each have a story.
And then there's the people on the train itself, the passengers. Each of them have a story, and it was striking to me how I noticed, as I people-watched, that no matter how outlandish, or cliche'd people seemed, maybe it was because it was Christmas, everyone seemed endearing to me on that train ride...
I got on the train in Oakland, which was the origination, so I had my pick of seats...I chose a single seat by the door of the coach, so that no one would invade 'my space' based on previous experiences, ha!
The seat was a great vantage point to observe every one who would subsequently get on and off the train.
A family of 5 sat in the row in front of me, the mother, father, and three teenagers, the teens sat across from the parents on seats that had a table. They played card games, and then would bicker like children until the parents told them to pipe down, I smiled at how this family digressed, like the teens hadn't changed a bit since they were little.
At the Richmond Station, a group of gangsta looking black youths got on the train, they looked hard, and I noticed the family somewhat intimidated by their presence....
It is here that I made that certain observation that you 'Can't Always Judge a Book by its Cover'.... when the train pulled into Stockton, the Gangstas got up and gathered their bags, on of 'hard guys' dropped a shopping bag and a bunch of Christmas presesnts spilled out. Some of them were unwrapped, there was a Spiderman Action set, a Harry Potter book, and various other toys, with bows on them. They were obviously presents for his little nephews or cousins....or someone...he replaced the presents with care, making sure the bows were intact. Beneath this Hip-Hop, tough guy exterior, there was a kind and generous soul in there...
I noticed this again later, when I was in Tulare. My mom and I went out to breakfast in a Mexican restaurant, where the food was delicious! It was the kind of place where the staff are Mexican, and you'd be lucky if your waitress spoke English, but the owner waited on us, my mom had the green chile omellete, I had the chorizo with eggs, with flour tortillas, it was wonderful.
In walked two oversized ranchers with cowboy hats, they sat at the counter and talked about cattle feed, the recent rains and how they're gonna get that "god damn truck outta the mud" ...their polyester shirts spilled way over their belts. I instantly thought of the Hip-Hop guys and how this was a 180 degree extreme, these guys were obviously 'rednecks' who had a disdain for minorities, gays, or anything else....but that was my own prejudice, just my watching people and pre-judging them by their appearance....
After listening to (overhearing) them for awhile, I came to the conclusion that they were good men, who took care of their families and friends, like if I needed help on the road, they wouldn't hesitate to help. This was confirmed when one of them jumped out of his seat to help an old Mexican guy on a walker out the door...
I think I could go on and on about everyone I see, like how everyone has a story, and everyone could be a passenger on a train at any time and observe...and be observed...and how everyone's life is like a long train ride, but a train ride itself I found to be a perfect metaphor....
All Aboard!
There is a certain romanticism about trains, songs and stories written about them down through the years, the sound of a lonesome train whistle in the middle of the night, songs like "Midnight Train" by Elvis Presley, or "City of New Orleans" by Arlo Guthrie, "I Walk the Line" by Johnny Cash...and 'hobo songs' like "King of the Road" by Roger Miller, they immediately conjure up an image of a long train ride through the heart of America.....I thought of these things when I took a train ride last week....
I took a ride on Amtrak from Oakland to Hanford, California over the Christmas holiday, which I have done many times, but this time I seemed to be more acutely aware of the never-ending panorama of people, and places that a simple train ride can showcase. A ride in a plane is somewhat the same thing, a small collection of people gathered together at one point in time, their various lives and destinations all bundled up in an aluminum tube at 30,000 feet, though somewhat confined to their seats, unless the seatbelt sign is off....but you get there quicker!
Riding the train is more pourous and fluid, it takes longer to get to your destination, and along the way people get off, and new people get on, like an evolution of a journey. And the people you see are less restrained by seat belts, as you can roam among the train.
The two greatest things about riding the train is, again, the never-ending panorama, and the people on the train itself.
As it winds through landscapes not normally seen by car, it reveals a window view of fields, farms, stockyards, graveyards of ancient machinery and tractors, as if it was a museum of what things were like back in the 40's, because indeed, some of those things look like they haven't been touched since then.
As you approach a town, you can see people's back-yards, doughboy swimming pools, swing sets, gardens, derelict cars, junkyards, then you realize that the tracks usually pass through the 'poor side of town' and here's a front row view. But then you realize that each of these homes, and the people who live in them each have a story.
And then there's the people on the train itself, the passengers. Each of them have a story, and it was striking to me how I noticed, as I people-watched, that no matter how outlandish, or cliche'd people seemed, maybe it was because it was Christmas, everyone seemed endearing to me on that train ride...
I got on the train in Oakland, which was the origination, so I had my pick of seats...I chose a single seat by the door of the coach, so that no one would invade 'my space' based on previous experiences, ha!
The seat was a great vantage point to observe every one who would subsequently get on and off the train.
A family of 5 sat in the row in front of me, the mother, father, and three teenagers, the teens sat across from the parents on seats that had a table. They played card games, and then would bicker like children until the parents told them to pipe down, I smiled at how this family digressed, like the teens hadn't changed a bit since they were little.
At the Richmond Station, a group of gangsta looking black youths got on the train, they looked hard, and I noticed the family somewhat intimidated by their presence....
It is here that I made that certain observation that you 'Can't Always Judge a Book by its Cover'.... when the train pulled into Stockton, the Gangstas got up and gathered their bags, on of 'hard guys' dropped a shopping bag and a bunch of Christmas presesnts spilled out. Some of them were unwrapped, there was a Spiderman Action set, a Harry Potter book, and various other toys, with bows on them. They were obviously presents for his little nephews or cousins....or someone...he replaced the presents with care, making sure the bows were intact. Beneath this Hip-Hop, tough guy exterior, there was a kind and generous soul in there...
I noticed this again later, when I was in Tulare. My mom and I went out to breakfast in a Mexican restaurant, where the food was delicious! It was the kind of place where the staff are Mexican, and you'd be lucky if your waitress spoke English, but the owner waited on us, my mom had the green chile omellete, I had the chorizo with eggs, with flour tortillas, it was wonderful.
In walked two oversized ranchers with cowboy hats, they sat at the counter and talked about cattle feed, the recent rains and how they're gonna get that "god damn truck outta the mud" ...their polyester shirts spilled way over their belts. I instantly thought of the Hip-Hop guys and how this was a 180 degree extreme, these guys were obviously 'rednecks' who had a disdain for minorities, gays, or anything else....but that was my own prejudice, just my watching people and pre-judging them by their appearance....
After listening to (overhearing) them for awhile, I came to the conclusion that they were good men, who took care of their families and friends, like if I needed help on the road, they wouldn't hesitate to help. This was confirmed when one of them jumped out of his seat to help an old Mexican guy on a walker out the door...
I think I could go on and on about everyone I see, like how everyone has a story, and everyone could be a passenger on a train at any time and observe...and be observed...and how everyone's life is like a long train ride, but a train ride itself I found to be a perfect metaphor....
All Aboard!
posted by Olias at 8:29 PM
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