I have traveled over sixteen thousand miles by rail in the United States, for a combined total of just under sixteen days of my life if you add it all together. During those ~375 hours of riding Amtrak trains, many lasting memories have been made. Inspiring sights seen through the windows, interesting fellow travelers and crew members met en-route, songs written along the way.
While riding though, especially when traveling alone, it can get a little lonely out there on the rails. As an introverted sort of person, I am often not feeling up to trying to meet people in the cafe cars, or observation cars when available. I have found that the feeling of isolation and even loneliness can be strongest when rolling through what I call my “homelands”, the area of Northern Ohio where I was born and raised. The Amtrak train known as the Lake Shore Limited rolls through this area on its way to and fro between Boston and Chicago, and I have ridden it a number of times. Nostalgia mixes with memories, and longing for youthful times long past, in a poignant blend of emotions.
On a recent trip, however, a lasting personal memory was made with the help of my brother, who still lives in that area, not far from the mail line in Oak Harbor, Ohio.
As my train streamed through the darkness of the pre-dawn winter’s day, we passed crossings and sights I knew so well from years gone by, all dark and cold and silent. I had made my way to the dim, empty cafe car as we rolled through, and a profound sense of loneliness came over me as we passed the little road crossing at the old village of Danbury, closest to my hometown of Marblehead. I am not sure what or who I expected to be there, but it flashed by cold and deserted. Soon after, we went past the little gravel lane on the outskirts of Port Clinton where I had done some growing up as a boy. Melancholy settled over me as we proceeded west across the farmland, on our way to the next station stop at Toledo.
As we approached the old Lake Shore and Michigan Southern depot in Oak Harbor, however, my phone lit up. It was a message from my brother Mike, saying he was there waiting for the train. A few moments later, I saw a tall dark shape silhouetted in the glow of a van’s headlights, gone in an instant. It was my brother, who had gotten up early for work, and headed trackside to watch as my train flashed by.
I had my phone with its flashlight lit, shining through the window as we rolled by where my brother stood. Soon after, he confirmed that he had seen the light, and I confirmed that I saw him. There in the dark cafe car, tears filled my eyes, and I struggled to find words to record it in my journal. That personal, family connection, made through the tinted windows of an Amtrak cafe car on a cold winter’s morning, touched me. It immediately became my favorite memory of riding the rails.
I have many more rails to ride; in fact I’ll be on the Lake Shore Limited again heading for Chicago with my son in six weeks or so. I know many good memories will be made en-route, and even more in the future, but the memory of the brief glimpse of my brother by the tracks on a cold winter’s morning will stay with me as long as there are rails I’m able to ride.