\u00a0<\/address>\nI consider myself an experienced traveler.\u00a0 Over the past twenty years I\u2019ve explored seven or eight countries, and all but a couple of the contiguous American states.\u00a0 I\u2019ve traveled at least twice by train:\u00a0 once as a small child, when my grandmother took me to Toledo aboard the last steam train to provide service in Michigan; and once with my own children to Ann Arbor for a day of museums and adventure.<\/p>\n
So who would have expected that a five-hour train ride from Dearborn to Chicago would be so full of new experiences?\u00a0 I mean, had I embarked on a cross-country ride on a Harley, or cruised the Yangtze, or hiked Mount Kilimanjaro, I\u2019d have expected to be somehow changed by the experience.\u00a0 But meandering along through Kalamazoo, Battle Creek, Dowagiac, New Buffalo, Hammond-Whiting, and Chicago?<\/p>\n
Knobs and Handles<\/strong> \u2013 Planes and trains have followed distinct evolutionary paths\u2014so the systems which I\u2019d come to expect on an aircraft, such as a sliding door lock for the restroom, presented new challenges on the train.\u00a0 The restroom faucet is an enigma in itself\u2014there is no handle, and after a bit of fiddling I found that pressing against it from beneath released a splash of warm water.<\/p>\nThe Secrets of Cities and Swamps<\/strong> \u2013 But I was surprised by more than the mere mechanics of the passenger car itself. \u00a0Cities and towns reveal an older, seedier side from the vantage point of a moving train.\u00a0 I\u2019ve driven Ypsilanti\u2019s Main Street a hundred times, even enjoyed the festivals in historic Depot Town; but from the tracks one sees the city\u2019s effluent:\u00a0 its discarded bikes and lawn chairs and rubber tires, forgotten tractors, dirty, unwashed rear entrances.\u00a0 At Kalamazoo, graffiti artists had reclaimed bridge abutments with their wild and colorful strokes.\u00a0 In cities all along the way, beyond the weed-strewn bed lay smokestacks and service plazas, steeples and storage units, and the stubble of industry gone sour.\u00a0 But here, along the tracks, nature had reclaimed the land. \u00a0Beavers had erected their lodge in a swamp; and I watched as a wild turkey rose from the low grasses, oblivious to the fate of its domestic cousins, already destined for stardom at next Thursday\u2019s Thanksgiving feast.<\/p>\nAnd Most of All, the<\/strong> People<\/strong> \u2013 If cities and countryside are to be experienced and enjoyed, and animals are to be loved, how much more then can the people we meet enrich our lives and fill our hearts?<\/p>\nSo it was for me aboard Amtrak Wolverine #351 on Thursday morning.\u00a0 There were all kinds of plain and fancy folks:\u00a0 young ing\u00e9nues with laptops and DVDs; elderly vacationers heading off to see a brother in Missouri; unemployed workers seeking a career or just a job in the next town; business commuters, heading for meetings in the Windy City.<\/p>\n
Seated behind me, a young man entertained his companion with tales from his personal \u201cBlair Witch Project\u201d:\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHe spotted me on top of the building and called out, but I jumped and ran into the woods.\u00a0 He followed, and I could hear his breath, hear the branches and twigs break beneath his feet.\u00a0 He almost caught up with me, but then\u2026.\u201d<\/em>\u00a0 To my disappointment, the two young men disembarked at Kalamazoo for a \u201cseven-minute smoke break,\u201d as promised by the conductor, and either stayed behind or returned to sit in a different seat, so I never heard the end of the story.<\/p>\nAmtrak\u2019s conductors and crew were caricatures of themselves, as though pulled from central casting for \u201cThe Polar Express.\u201d\u00a0 The white shirts with epaulets and gray conductor jackets and hats were reminiscent of an earlier era, and from the portly conductor to his young female counterpart, all wore them with pride.\u00a0 The youngest worker we saw, a girl barely past high school with wisps of long dark hair peeking from behind her ears, was so cute it brought a smile\u2014and when I turned to my husband, I found him also grinning, enraptured by her youthful charm and oversized hat.<\/p>\n
My life is so busy with \u201cdoing\u201d that this experience\u2014ten hours of forced \u201cbeing\u201d and \u201cthinking\u201d\u2014was a great gift.\u00a0 I was warmed by the sheer goodness of mankind, as evidenced by the people who were my companions on my journey.\u00a0 How much, I thought, must God love us, if I can so love these people\u2014people I scarcely knew, but who each, by their lives and comportments, revealed the essence of humanity.\u00a0 It was a long, tiring, and very rewarding day!<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Good morning, America, how are you? Don\u2019t you know me\u2014I\u2019m your native son\u2026. \u00a0 \u2013train lyrics by Steve Goodman, \u201cCity of New Orleans\u201d \u00a0 I consider myself an experienced traveler.\u00a0 Over the past twenty years I\u2019ve explored seven or eight countries, and all but a couple of the contiguous American states.\u00a0 I\u2019ve traveled at least […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":556,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[159,175,264],"tags":[2836,724],"class_list":["post-363","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-michigan","category-nostalgia-2","category-travel-2","tag-michigan","tag-travel"],"yoast_head":"\n
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<\/p>\n