What is the life expectancy of a railroad car? Now that I board the train to Philly twice a week... once for a full day of classes, and once for an overnight shift as chaplain-...I feel a connection to my grandfather. He climbed on a train not 600 yards from his front door, every week day for the duration of his
career as a newspaper columnist. There was no remote anything, back then, except perhaps the remote possibility that he would miss the train. Family lore has it that he could hear the whistle blow, run full tilt with his briefcase and make it with no need to wait.
Like I do.
Being uneasy about the reliability of train schedules, or rather my competence in understanding them, I arrive a good fifteen minutes early. Just in
case.
Once I'm actually on the train, my curiosity rumbles about whether my grandpa sat on this same bench. Was he a creature of habit, such that he chose the same spot? Or were the fluctuations of crowds such that preferences bowed to sheer availability?
While I have no evidence that the car I ride in was the one my ancestor did in the 20's, it seems plausible that it is the one my husband took to and from Temple University in
the 70's. He was trying to decide between a musical career or the ministry. I'm happy to say he chose the latter. As much as I enjoy hearing John play the piano, it is our shared trust in God that has kept our marriage from going off the rails.
My mother's father composed articles for a Philadelphia paper. I pen stories that explore ways to decipher those schedules and documents designed to get us to heaven. Though technically speaking, I use a keyboard. But I am
grateful for any genetic proclivity passed down to me by the man who fed his twelve children with words.
