All Aboard the Super Chief
Sometimes, all the turmoil and trouble in the world can't seem to fight its way to the surface of my mind and stay there long enough for a response to form. Sometimes, I can't, or won't, focus on the things that make the headlines. Sometimes, nothing presses the buttons. Sometimes, the buttons get pressed but the circuits don't fire. Sometimes, I refuse to invest the emotional or intellectual capital in the topics du jour. Sometimes, I just don't care. For these times, I say, "Thank, God."
I asked myself what I might address in an entry today. I could talk about Iraq and the relentless death toll; the Enron trials and the greed that they will disclose; the Hamas victory and the threat it raises; the NSA spying story or the Abramoff scandal and the disfigurement each brings to the free face of America; the senior NASA scientist who is being told he can't speak publicly about climate change and global warming; etc. I felt a few stirrings about these things today, but nothing that prompted writing.
Then a truly worthy subject appeared, one that is completely free of turmoil and trouble. It came via a PBS program about the Super Chief train operated by the Santa Fe Railroad from 1936 to 1971. Not too long ago I wouldn't have noticed this program on the schedule, much less watched it. Now, I find myself searching PBS and other cable channels that present me anything other than fictional reflections or nonfictional reverberations of the turmoil and trouble in the national and international headlines. Tonight, I got onboard the Super Chief and took a ride that soothed the soul.
I connected with this program because when I was a young boy I rode the Super Chief twice across northern Arizona. The first trip was magical because it was the whole package - staying overnight in a sleeper, eating several meals in the dining car, lounging in the dome car, and enjoying every minute of a trip that afforded its passengers the sublime privilege of sitting and watching beautiful landscape pass by accompanied by a gentle rocking motion and the almost hypnotically rhythmic sound of the wheels on the track. I don't even remember the destination, or the starting point. I remember the simple pleasures of the journey. I remember that I felt like I was starring in a movie. The second trip was a day trip out of Williams, Arizona, that celebrated the opening of a stretch of railroad that my dad built (he was project manager). This trip was on the top of a double-decker, Big Dome car. I felt like I was in low-level flight as I spent several hours gazing out the dome without a word to or from anyone else.
So, what's the point? A wave of longing for a return to simpler days washed over me and allowed me to connect to times and things that seem superior to the complicated and twisted mess that invites and then demands our attention today. Maybe I just wanted to be a kid again, to return to a more innocent view of things around me. Or, maybe I wanted to return to a time when I still could more readily pause and see and enjoy the innocent things in the view around me. I'm tired of the onslaught of war, poverty, crime, scandal, and dangerous political and religious arrogance that modern communication technology brings to the doorstep of my consciousness multiple times a day. I don't need to be told that the 1950s presented the same array of problems to the adult world that is served up in the 2000s. Those were fearful times. But, with a more childlike approach to life, I traveled on the Super Chief and found peacefulness in the constant motion and rhythmic sound. Perhaps we never cease to respond to the things that invoke the womb, the cradle, the rocking chair, or other places where peace and quiet preside.
2 Comments:
ALL grownups eventually realize what a good deal they had in the womb.
Nice post.
It's comforting to know that as stressfull and troubled we grown-ups find the current world, the kids of today are still riding on their own Super Chief.
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