How people bounce (Train pt. 11)

I spent the last few hours before Seattle thinking about the people that have bounced in and out of my life, as well as wondering about the ones I have yet to meet.  I am realizing that it is my hope that this journey across country and time will help me grow to be a better person, both in my relationship with myself as well as with others I meet.  More and more I am understanding that it is time to move beyond my comfort zone and into conversations and situations that will enable this push. 




It seems that as I age I am beginning to fully understand that any interaction can give insight into one's life and one’s purpose.  To fully embrace this means taking advantage of the opportunities in front of me instead of remaining trapped hidden inside my own head. 

Stepping off in Montana with all of the tweaked out nicotine cravers long overdue for a smoke break, I scanned the platform to see who else was stuck on this long journey.  Looking to my left I noticed a long legged brunette in yoga pants stretching and wondered why fate had been so cruel as to place her on the opposite end of the car as me; at least if she was near to me then I would have an excuse to chat.  It was at a free lunch (spurned by the guilt of a timetable negatively adjusted by six hours, though it may have just been due to an abundance of rice and beef stew) that I thought my luck had changed when the country girl in the Harley tee and bejeweled jeans sat down next to me.  I guess fate again had other ideas since, just as the conversation was warming up, she was moved to make room at the four person table for a woman and her two little kids.  I guess I was meant to play dad instead of flirt.

Seated next to a two year old too cute for her own good, I did what I could to help the stressed 30 year old mom seated across from me.  With my lack of parental experience, this was sure to be entertaining.  Since her four year old son only ate rolls and talked in movie quotes, I intermittently kept him on his toes with bad sound effects and quotes of my own while helping the little girl with her stew.  Sadly I failed as a parent, our lesson on blowing on your food quickly forgotten in the little girl's excitement to prove she could feed herself. 

Attempting to make amends, I tried calming her down and alleviating the burning sensation in her mouth with some apple juice as I scooped up another spoonful of stew.  Making sure she understood that it was up to her to cool it off, she blew like her life depended upon it and tentatively took another bite. 




Just as I was finding my rhythm with the whole dad thing, our meal ended and we were ushered back to our seats by an Amtrak dining car crew who seemed to forget that their patron's patience was probably as worn as their own.  At least they offered a parting gift in the form of a snack pack which I handed to my "wife" as we exited the dining car.  Though I knew I would want it later, my hunger was secondary to anything that would keep her children entertained. 

As my "family" left I realized that we were just outside of Everett, so only an hour north of Seattle.  With our final destination so close, the universe played a rather cruel trick in the form of our being forced into a holding track so that train after train of rush hour commuters and freight traffic leaving the very city we all desperately wanted to reach could pass us.




At this point I desperately needed out of this metal casket, my muscles coiling and burning from being pent up for so long, but it just wasn't meant to be.  In an attempt to quell the anger I felt boiling in my mind,  I turned my attention to the families playing in the park just outside my window and was blindsided by thoughts of my father and a childhood spent racing out in the very bay the sun was now setting over. 




Filled with a strange sense of guilt, I thought back to how much I loathed those moments as a kid and how much I now realized I would give anything to be out on that water one more time, the salt water spray in my face as we chased down another boat in our weekly races.  These thoughts made me realize how sad it is what is taken for granted during our youth.  Far too often our short sighted minds convince us that the average everyday experiences we share with those we love are not as important as the things we wish we were doing instead.

As thoughts of my dad and the endless trips started from this very bay flowed in and out of my consciousness, I overheard an elderly couple behind me debating the location of the Straits of Juan De Fuca (or, as my brother so aptly named them, the Straits of I Wanna Puca).  Seeing an alternative to the feelings of sorrow and loss I felt, I turned around and asked where they were from and if I could help in any way.  




After clarifying for them the layout of the Sound, the Straits and the San Juan Islands, our conversation shifted from water to train travel.  In an instant I was transported back to 1947 as the old man recounted stories of his military days and the trip by train he was forced to take down the West Coast and across the south.  Minutes into his stories I wished that I had grabbed my recorder as I knew I would never fully remember the details of all he and his wife were willing to share.




I find it infinitely amazing to listen to the memories and stories of individuals who are old enough to have truly seen the world change.  The perspectives gained from these conversations make me realize more fully the commonalities and differences of shared experiences.  From his military days to his years as a schoolteacher it was not difficult to see that this man loved sharing his stories.  His wife, having lived a lifetime with him and having worked at a back country post office in an already sparsely populated state, had stories just as full of joy, sorrow, regret and elation as any he told. 

Listening in with interest I was surprised at first when interrupted by a woman seated across from us who seemed hell bent on interjecting her two cents whenever she saw fit.  What's worse is I could see the anxiety this woman caused to the couple I was talking to and wondered what in the world was happening.  Slowly the puzzle pieces fell into place as I learned that this woman was their daughter-in-law.  Talk about a damper on an 80th birthday weekend.




Wondering how this relationship arrived at this point, I learned that it was even more convoluted when this lover of unsolicited opinions left for the bathroom.  As it turns out, the reason she was traveling sans husband was that his love of food (and hatred of his wife) meant that he was no longer on this earth.  I kid you not, in this brief respite from the ceaseless interjections I learned that this couple believed that their own son had eaten himself to death rather than tell his wife to keep her mouth shut.  

I felt bad for them all in their own way.  Bad for the daughter-in-law lacking children of her own, as she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact she may be the reason behind her loneliness.  Bad for this couple that allowed their frustration to build to the point where a stress related heart attack was more than just a fear.  




I couldn’t even bring myself to ask how they felt spending so much time with someone I am sure they blame, on some level, for the death of their son.  I only hope that my interruption of the daughter-in-law's interruption and subsequent quick etiquette lesson hits home.

Tension notwithstanding, the great thing about good conversations is that they make you forget time and frustrations and before I realized it we were rolling past landmarks I knew well from my childhood.  The trip was finally almost over.  




Fate is strange.  After all of the turmoil and delays, we ended up arriving in Seattle just as Danny was finishing his work week and I began to wonder if maybe all of this was necessary for my journey. 

As we slowly made our way towards the station I walked to the back of the train for a look at the road behind us.  Making my way back towards my seat I seized on the opportunity I ignorantly left to fate and stopped to talk with the girl in the yoga pants.  As we discussed her abundance of snacks and train travel preparedness it hit home that life is not something one should wait for.  




Tall, fit and obviously intelligent, this woman lives in a town I dream of calling home.  What's more, she spends her days working in a whiskey distillery.  Oh well.  I am certain it wouldn’t have worked out anyways as the hippy look I believe she is attracted to is of a variety slightly less homeless looking than the one my train sweats and grey scruff currently portrays. 

As I stepped off of the train into the rare Seattle winter sunset, my joy was measurable and I joked with the girl living my dream life that her blond friend had a responsibility to ensure her time in Seattle made up for the countless hours wasted on the train.  Assured that this was their plan, and knowing that women like them rarely experienced anything less in a big city, I walked off alone in search of a cab as I contemplated the last few days.  




What I have taken away, and what I am slowly attempting to embrace, is that life is more about actively seeking and embracing opportunities than it is about sitting back and expecting them to present themselves to me.  Sadly, life is seldom like a Hollywood movie.  As much as we want things to fall into place, more often than not we have to at least start the pieces moving.