First of all, \u00a0God and I have a joke about 3:16. \u00a0 \u00a0You’ve seen all the sports events where someone holds up a \u00a0John 3:16 sign… to signify \u00a0“For God So Loved the World…”<\/p>\n
Well, God \u00a0usually wakes me at 3:16 am, \u00a0and in the afternoon something usually happens to turn my head to the clock.<\/p>\n
So riding the Amtrack was no exception…<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
3:16 am……..dear walt whitman
\nForgive me for paraphrasing…..
\nBut all i can think of is the glorious choral setting of your poem.<\/p>\n
And that i am destroying it.<\/p>\n
On the train between Devils Lake and Grand Forks
\nAnd it is way too hot to sleep.
\nHowever, it appears others are not having that same problem.<\/p>\n
For “I hear America snoring, the varied buzzings I hear
\nThose of old men, long and deep with a stop before resuming again,
\nThose rapid raspy ones from the guy who had plenty of trips to the lounge car…….”
\nAirplanes and greyhound bus may be good for people watching,
\nBut nothing like 24 hours in a quasi submarine on rails
\nIn which to observe them….<\/p>\n
But for that Wittman gets it right.
\nThere is my seatmate, the music major headed to minnesota..
\nThe lady riding the train from beginning to end because hitting all 50 states before she turns 50 is on her bucket list.
\nThe Amish clan with tow-headed boys in identical bowl cuts.
\nThe guy w ho loves the sound of his voice.<\/p>\n
The giggling girls, flirting with the boy in the lounge car.
\nI hear multiple languages
\nAnd amazing questions and comments about a land i love so much.
\nIt is a strange and wonderful cacophany.
\nAnd feels suprisingly alright.<\/p>\n
It is middle of the night. I have closed my eyes, played games, read and prayed.
\nNow i am left to my own devices, and glad just to let the brain wander…
\nFor a couple more days before i return to lists and deadlines.<\/p>\n
I remember reading something in a freshman English course with a dr tunic many years ago.
\nI dont know it by heart, but essence was this :<\/p>\n
Traveling is important…because it is there where we switch identities or prepare for who we will be to those we are traveling to. It makes sense. People know us differently as a friend, a sister, a daughter, a coworker. As a musician, a thinker, a writer, a cook, a goofball, a friend.<\/p>\n
It is not that these identities are a mask or a facade, but we need time to make the switch. So it is as if the car, train plane is a virtual phonebooth for us to make that change.<\/p>\n
My dad made a comment this week how Mother loved the 20 minute drive to work because it was a time that just belonged to her.<\/p>\n
I Hear America Singing<\/em> I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,<\/em> \u202a#\u200e<\/span>Amtrak\u202c<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n
\nWalt Whitman, 1819 – 1892<\/em><\/p>\n
\nThose of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe<\/em>
\nand strong,<\/em>
\nThe carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,<\/em>
\nThe mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off<\/em>
\nwork,<\/em>
\nThe boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the<\/em>
\ndeckhand singing on the steamboat deck,<\/em>
\nThe shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing<\/em>
\nas he stands,<\/em>
\nThe wood-cutter\u2019s song, the ploughboy\u2019s on his way in the<\/em>
\nmorning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,<\/em>
\nThe delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at<\/em>
\nwork, or of the girl sewing or washing,<\/em>
\nEach singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,<\/em>
\nThe day what belongs to the day\u2014at night the party of young<\/em>
\nfellows, robust, friendly,<\/em>
\nSinging with open mouths their strong melodious songs.<\/em><\/p>\nShare this:<\/h3>