Train Stations

There is something about a train station that evokes a little thrill of adventure coupled with a bit of a sad nostalgia yearning for the reality of the image of simpler times. I walked down to Union Station today, and the white Vermont granite of the exterior seemed to capture the thrill and freedom of climbing into a mahogany and teak Pullman train car hauled by a fast locomotive toward points west.

Union Station - Washington, DC

I'll be headed out on the road again soon, but instead of eating roast beef and carrots and drinking coffee in the dining car on a multi-day trip accompanied by the rhythmic click and slap of the great iron steam pistons, I'll be climbing into an aluminum tube to be pushed past the ground five miles above the earth lulled to a shallow sleep by the pitched whine of twin turbofan engines.  

There is something to be said for being able to cover 1200 miles in about four hours, but today I was longing for the myth of simpler times. Times when travel was slower and instead of avoiding my fellow pilgrims we would exchange greetings and banter about whatever news we all brought from our smaller and somehow more isolated sections of the country.

After spending a few minutes dreaming of the open air freedom of travel in a rail car, I turned on my heel and headed back toward the river, relishing the lightning sky in the east and the gentle breeze on my forehead.

Tomorrow morning will bring a new set of dreams and visions, and I'm looking forward to seeing them unfold one moment at a time.