Guest column: Oh, the interesting things I’ve seen on the train

Once while waiting for a train in the quaint Princeton depot, I noticed a large, middle-aged man knitting a maroon sock of fine wool, needles gently clicking.

I’ve encountered interesting folks on my frequent train trips over the years. Before my eldest son and family moved back to the area, we rode the California Zephyr to Omaha fairly often.

One memorable fellow traveler was a young man from France, originally from Turkey, who was a pop musician. When I told him I had my autoharp along, he got out his miniature guitar he had just purchased in San Francisco and we sat in the lounge car jamming old American train songs. The other passengers seemed to enjoy the entertainment.

Each train seems to have a chatty café car attendant, joking with the variety of travelers he serves during each six-day run to California and back.

So many cultures and nationalities I see and hear on the coaches. I hear bits of conversations in different languages. Some are leaving somewhere for a new start, some on vacation. There are families with enthusiastic grade schoolers playing games. There are single travelers absorbed in their own thoughts.

I see a motherly woman earnestly counseling a beautiful young lady on matters of the heart. I hope the advice is good and the young lady will receive it to her benefit. Different generations are on different pages of their books of life.

I met a friendly young woman and her mother from Burma who had lived in Chicago for eight years and now were moving to Nebraska to join the brother and father who had landed jobs in a pork processing plant. They were looking forward to moving out of the city. They asked all about our farm and animals, saying how nice it must be to live where it is quiet and grow our own food.

Outside the train windows we see other stories. One summer evening at an Iowa stop, I saw an older couple sitting outside the station in lawn chairs, watching the passengers detrain and embark. After the whistle blew and the conductor called “All aboard!” as the train pulled out of the station, I saw the couple pick up their lawn chairs and head home. I guess that was their evening entertainment.

I see a mud-spattered tractor pulling a bale grinder, waiting for us to pass so the farmer can go feed his cows.

The train toots its long horn as we go through each town, whizzing past old brick buildings of a bygone era. We pass junkyards, spare parts repositories. Oh, there’s an old International truck like the one I used to drive when my boys were little.

I see a little girl and her mother taking a walk down the street by the tracks. On one stop, I spy the fluttering of some little gray-blue birds in the brush by the tracks, going about their birdie business. We also roll by some messy mounds in a swampy area and I wonder if they are muskrat houses. That’s what I love about nature—it goes on whether we notice it or not.

So the train full of souls rumbles on while my mind mulls all the stories I’ve seen and heard.

Winifred Hoffman, of Earlville is a farmer, breeder of dual-purpose cattle and a student of life. She can be reached at newsroom@mywebtimes.com .