Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth
to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!
This Episode: Travels with SweetHeart!... Domestic Edition!
I'm not entirely certain when GeezerHood begins and "robust middle age" terminates, giving way to the era of doddering, slobbering soup onto your tie or tunic and forgetting words and the name of your postal person of 25, maybe 30 years!! **
( ** Apologies to the elderly, my fellow seniors! Many of us are sentient, bright and in full control of our mental faculties well into our so-called "Golden Years"! The above paragraph is merely intended to promote modest amusement! Thank you!).
I was in my early to mid-50s, possibly late 40s... It's not important. I was younger, in any case. We had a bit of disposable income, and opportunities to travel in those times. We really enjoyed train travel, motoring as well, but trains caught our imaginations as if they were (still are!) mystical and magical conveyances, like a genie's carpet or a flying broomstick that could carry one to glorious vistas and unimaginable adventure.
We discovered train travel one summer, boarding Amtrak's Southwest Chief. At a particular stop along the route, a Native American man boarded and offered a fascinating history of indigenous people, their culture and the lands they inhabited. The sleeping accommodations were spare but reasonably comfortable, and far superior to trying to catch a few elongated blinks in a standard coach seat or chair. I believe we even had a private convenience and a shower. It was something akin to luxury.
We headquartered in Flagstaff, rented a vehicle visited the Grand Canyon -- a sight that captivates far beyond the initial viewing -- climbed Mount Thomas in Oak Creek Canyon, dined in Sedona several times, exulted in the mysteries of Jerome and its fabled house made of ammunition crates. Part of Jerome's lore is the jail that slid down a steep hill, it, the jail, having been undermined by overly zealous excavating in search of a certain precious metal. It happened back in the 1800s, we were reliably told. A few inmates perished!
We journeyed to Jerome at SweetHearts insistence and absolute delight after being told not to go there... "It's dangerous! They have cults and strange rituals there... Oh, and even ghosts and UFOs and weird sightings! Mysterious lights, New Age devilry! You shouldn't go there...!!"
We had to go. It was a marvelous adventure. The aspect we noticed most prominently was the struggle for the town's soul, a battle waged by artists and artisans on one side of the spectrum, rowdies, rednecks and hell raisers on the other! Wonderful stuff! (The image of Jerome, just above, is intended solely to amuse! Residents are not being systematically carried off by ghouls and other specters!)
It might have been the following year, maybe two rotations of the earth round the sun later, we boarded the same westbound train for a trip to New Mexico. Santa Fe and its particular delights. But the best of it was a road trip in a rented vehicle to Madrid. There we visited an unusual (sort of) museum and attended a melodrama, in which spectators were issued marshmallows to pitch at the villain. Sneers, boos and hoots were encouraged. The museum, by the by, had the largest (recorded) collection of glass insulators, those things we used to see on telephone poles. Delightful stuff, all of it!
And then a couple of years later... Heading in the other direction, we boarded Amtrak's Lake Shore Limited from Chicago to Boston. There we rented a motor car and traveled along the coastal road bound for Bar Harbor, Maine. The coastal road, though remarkably picturesque, was such as jagged affair, owing to Maine's "uneven" coast line, like traveling cross country vs. a leisurely trek from south to north in a relatively small state!! Along the way we visited the Lincoln City jail with its ancient, intact graffiti left by sailors and other scofflaws who had been incarcerated there in the 1800s.
On that same journey, we climbed Mount Cadillac in Acadia National Park. I tried at times to effect the accent of denizens of Maine's Down East region. SweetHeart thought I might give offense to certain of our "Mainer" hosts! She was right, of course, and so I stopped aping the accent until we were out of earshot of the lobster-loving residents. (We did acquire a lobster magnet souvenir at some point! A treasured artifact!)
(Our journeys to Rocky Mountain National Park, Breckenridge, Colorado, Wilmington and Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina? Perhaps in a future episode.... I have to think about those adventures, and recall the high points. Oh, and we enthusiastically recommend the series of travel books -- Off the Beaten Path in... Wonderful, often quirky destinations featured, well worth exploring this purely marvelous series of books; nearly every state well covered!! Honest!)
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France, Estonia, Greece... Next Episode: Overseas Travel!
(Special Note of Dedication: This posting is for SweetHeart, the best traveling companion I have ever known. Fun, funny, loving, adaptable, delightful in every way!! Our travels to Greece and a few of the islands in the Aegean were... well, stay tuned. Thank you, and Good Night...!)
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| Traveling by Train is a Tantalizing Treat! |
I'm not entirely certain when GeezerHood begins and "robust middle age" terminates, giving way to the era of doddering, slobbering soup onto your tie or tunic and forgetting words and the name of your postal person of 25, maybe 30 years!! **
( ** Apologies to the elderly, my fellow seniors! Many of us are sentient, bright and in full control of our mental faculties well into our so-called "Golden Years"! The above paragraph is merely intended to promote modest amusement! Thank you!).
I was in my early to mid-50s, possibly late 40s... It's not important. I was younger, in any case. We had a bit of disposable income, and opportunities to travel in those times. We really enjoyed train travel, motoring as well, but trains caught our imaginations as if they were (still are!) mystical and magical conveyances, like a genie's carpet or a flying broomstick that could carry one to glorious vistas and unimaginable adventure.
We discovered train travel one summer, boarding Amtrak's Southwest Chief. At a particular stop along the route, a Native American man boarded and offered a fascinating history of indigenous people, their culture and the lands they inhabited. The sleeping accommodations were spare but reasonably comfortable, and far superior to trying to catch a few elongated blinks in a standard coach seat or chair. I believe we even had a private convenience and a shower. It was something akin to luxury.
We headquartered in Flagstaff, rented a vehicle visited the Grand Canyon -- a sight that captivates far beyond the initial viewing -- climbed Mount Thomas in Oak Creek Canyon, dined in Sedona several times, exulted in the mysteries of Jerome and its fabled house made of ammunition crates. Part of Jerome's lore is the jail that slid down a steep hill, it, the jail, having been undermined by overly zealous excavating in search of a certain precious metal. It happened back in the 1800s, we were reliably told. A few inmates perished!
We journeyed to Jerome at SweetHearts insistence and absolute delight after being told not to go there... "It's dangerous! They have cults and strange rituals there... Oh, and even ghosts and UFOs and weird sightings! Mysterious lights, New Age devilry! You shouldn't go there...!!"
We had to go. It was a marvelous adventure. The aspect we noticed most prominently was the struggle for the town's soul, a battle waged by artists and artisans on one side of the spectrum, rowdies, rednecks and hell raisers on the other! Wonderful stuff! (The image of Jerome, just above, is intended solely to amuse! Residents are not being systematically carried off by ghouls and other specters!)
It might have been the following year, maybe two rotations of the earth round the sun later, we boarded the same westbound train for a trip to New Mexico. Santa Fe and its particular delights. But the best of it was a road trip in a rented vehicle to Madrid. There we visited an unusual (sort of) museum and attended a melodrama, in which spectators were issued marshmallows to pitch at the villain. Sneers, boos and hoots were encouraged. The museum, by the by, had the largest (recorded) collection of glass insulators, those things we used to see on telephone poles. Delightful stuff, all of it!
And then a couple of years later... Heading in the other direction, we boarded Amtrak's Lake Shore Limited from Chicago to Boston. There we rented a motor car and traveled along the coastal road bound for Bar Harbor, Maine. The coastal road, though remarkably picturesque, was such as jagged affair, owing to Maine's "uneven" coast line, like traveling cross country vs. a leisurely trek from south to north in a relatively small state!! Along the way we visited the Lincoln City jail with its ancient, intact graffiti left by sailors and other scofflaws who had been incarcerated there in the 1800s.
On that same journey, we climbed Mount Cadillac in Acadia National Park. I tried at times to effect the accent of denizens of Maine's Down East region. SweetHeart thought I might give offense to certain of our "Mainer" hosts! She was right, of course, and so I stopped aping the accent until we were out of earshot of the lobster-loving residents. (We did acquire a lobster magnet souvenir at some point! A treasured artifact!)
*********************************************************************************
France, Estonia, Greece... Next Episode: Overseas Travel!
(Special Note of Dedication: This posting is for SweetHeart, the best traveling companion I have ever known. Fun, funny, loving, adaptable, delightful in every way!! Our travels to Greece and a few of the islands in the Aegean were... well, stay tuned. Thank you, and Good Night...!)
Humbly Submitted 10-25-19 -- Joel K.
