everyone_is_here_ crOwl everyone_is_here sleep for me wasn't sound by any means. halfway between consciousness and oblivion, leaving illinois and crossing the state of missouri, i was an observer of my own dreams, perpetually aware of the oscillating movement of the train, at one time shaking me from side to side like a cradle in a hurricane, and then if you could imagine being a mouse swallowed by a snake, i felt that as well. yet, waking to the bright light of a kansas sunrise peeking through our window to the world rushing by at 8omph, i was strangely rested. i leaned over to catch the heavenly vision of the golden morning illuminating kathy's face, a rare vantage point which i think was a first for me. the last time we were in bunk beds was at a church camp in the allegheny mountains when we were 16 and in the initial thrill of first love. i pretended to be the great houdini and she was my assistant. she tied my wrists with rope and i amazed the imaginary crowds by breaking free. she looked up at me and unintentionally broke the reverie of my pleasant memory. "could you open that vent? it's so hot in here!" she moaned. it was practically in my face as i sat up, nearly wedged against the confining ceiling. one time, i almost panicked because i thought i was stuck and felt like i was about to break my neck trying to free myself. just as i cracked the lever open to release the cool air, a soft, whispery voice came over the intercom. immediately i thought it was joan's sultry inflection, but it was too masculine. "b...r...e...a...k...f...a...s...t......................!" kathy sat up on one elbow. i leaned over to see her brown eyes brightening, a smile spreading across her sleepy face. "p...a...n...c...a...k...e...s........................!" "e.......g.......g.......s.................................!" i busted up laughing, waking greta, who laid back, bleary-eyed but grinning. kathy giggled. it was hilarious. each time he announced a new offering of the available menu, dragging his words out with a tempting allure, we howled. it was unbelievable. maybe they were trying to make up for the frustration of the previous delay. in any case, it worked for us. i absolutely loved the warmhearted personality of the staff. they were rapidly becoming friends. "f...r...e...n...c...h.......t...o...a...s...t..........!" "s...a...u...s...a...g...e...............................!" no doubt meant to subliminally enter the dreams of slumbering passengers and teasingly entice them to the open dining car, it definately worked. we figured it had to be winston, the waiter we had for dinner the evening before. we hurried to get ready. it had been a couple days since i showered, so i ducked into our cramped toilet, removed my clothes, sat down, turned the thirty second availability of 1oo degrees water on, and "took a shower." by the time i dressed, took a chisel and scraped the accumulated scum off my teeth, and wriggled back into my clothes which were now dampened by the overspray, kathy and greta who were gazing at the bleak kansas landscape, were ready, and we headed to the dining car, bouncing off the walls as the train surged westward. "b.......a.......c.......o.......n.........................!" 050330 ... crOwl the enterprise-like doors to the dining car swooshed open and winston greeted us, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "that was you doing the morning wake up whisper wasn't it?" i asked, one eyebrow lifting. "who me?" he said, pointing a finger to his puffed out rooster chest, failing miserably in an attempt to act demure. we laughed all over again and generously praised him for his efforts. he sat us down and moments later, our buddy, bobby, the single father from pennsylvania with the ponytail and cool glasses, this time without his friend who was sleeping in, approached. "sit down with us," i offered. we all had coffee except bobby, who said he never liked it, yet had another much more serious addiction to overcome a few years prior: a six bag a day heroin habit. the one element of train travel that we found continuously interesting was the peculiar way people turned a single spotlight on their lives. airplane travel is different. when asked, passengers will tell you where they're from, what they do, where they're going, but rarely is there time, or better yet, the relaxing atmoshere and space to share an identity. as we ate our omelettes and pancakes, our orange juice glasses occasionly sliding a few inches when the train swerved unexpectedly, bobby looked out the large window at our table, at kansas stockyards and tilled fields waiting for wheat seed and he unveiled his story. how at 18, he had a solid job at a record store and always had enough money to support his dependancy. he didn't lie, cheat, or steal to get his smack, but he was always stoned and when he wasn't, friends and employers would think his lethargy and sloth-like indolence was an illness. after his son was born and the relationship with his mother fizzled out, he realized he was a hopeless junkie. so, he holed up in his apartment for an entire week of nightmarish withdrawls and quit cold turkey. however, to make sure he hadn't contracted hepatitis or aids from tainted needles, he endured the nervous anticipation of waiting for test results and came through into a sparkling new life as a 22 year-old free man, washed clean with relief and hope for a better future for him and his son. presently, he and gary are running a pizza shoppe. once he got that out of the way, he excitedly informed us of his love for japanese films and a lifelong desire to make a trip to tokyo, which greta especially could relate to and it opened a whole new road for us to stroll down, conversation flowing as smoothly as the coffee refills from winston. 050331 ... crOwl we returned to our sleeping car after breakfast, tossed back and forth, catching our balance, while bursts of sunlight were entering everyone's window as we walked by. we had a peek of each one, momentarily observing people sitting and laying in the streaming sun, all of us like flowers, needing it, close-eyed reaching for it. kathy had business to do, orders to call in, customer's questions to address, and since she is also in the process of homeschooling greta, currently in her junior year, she put her to work on writing a journal of the trip. greta gave me the priviledge of drawing some of the people that we meet along the way. of course, the codger with the dumb and dumber wig was first. he's immortalized forever in the pages of her little, leather book. so, i said later to kathy on the fone and greta on the top bunk, bose headfones on, listening to one line drawing. i took the canon eos with me back through the dining car and passed on to the sightseeing car. i just have this thing with needing to be in the sun when it's shining. there were a few people like me, sitting down, looking out at the backyards of middle america, at farmlands, at sleepy towns that never seem to wake up. i snuck a few fotos of shadows and light as they played with faces, but it was nerve racking when i'd get caught by someone who realized what i was doing. i also brought a book with me called, "the confessions of max tivoli" by andrew sean greer about a man who is born old and then grows to be young. i read some of it but was distracted by a group of teenaged mennonite girls who boarded somewhere in missouri. these kids fascinate me, the way they dress in homemade clothes, pull their hair back in little white caps, but wear secular shoes. the boys appear even plainer, but cover their heads with straw hats. the men sport beards without mustaches. the women look like they're on their way to a funeral. the girls were all standing up looking through the glass paned roof at the azure sky. their chaperone, a middle-aged man with all the patience of a boy scout leader, was pointing to a small airplane, saying the pilot was on his way around the world on one tank of gas. no one believed him but me. kathy joined me a little later and she came up with a great idea for taking people's fotos without them knowing. "pretend you are shooting me," she said. "and then sneak the camera to who you want." that's the way i got a prize winner of a toothless native american woman with wrinkles the size of the grand canyon. what would i do without my ingenious wife? 050401 ... crOwl lunch was just the three of us and to make it worth mentioning i'd say i had a surprisingly tasty, meatless garden burger, but the dinner seating was much more notable. we had a woman placed with us who turned out to be part of a nationwide group of amtrak afficondos who rode the train all over the country and made good and bad reports of their experiences to the headquarters. she had the priviledge to ride several of the trains and said her favorite was the surfliner up the california coast to seattle. we did our part to praise the company and from what i'm learning they're going to need all the help they can get because president bush signed a bill for 2oo6 that will prevent amtrak from receiving any government aid, which they always need to stay healthy and prosperous. they're already in the process of downsizing and eliminating some less important routes. it's really frustrating news because kathy doesn't like to fly and even if she did, we would probably ride the train just because it's one of the greatest adventures we've ever had. say a prayer for amtrak. it needs a hero with a ton of money. in between bites of salmon, the woman also told us she was on her way out to los angeles, specifically santa monica to help out her twenty something son who is recovering from a snowboard accident. it seems he blew out a disc trying to do a trick off a jump. i brought my own bottle of syrah which winston was willing to uncork for me, but all it managed to do for me was put me to sleep while greta and i watched the dummy dvd on the g4. it's a great film with adrien brody as a ventriloquist, but i saw only half of it. "lights out," greta said, disappointed again. 050402 ... crOwl whoa. i really butchered the word aficionado. 050402 ... crOwl during the night, as our train left colorado and rumbled across most of northern arizona, the turbulence was major. if before it was a snake swallowing a mouse, this time its victim was a rat and in order to swallow it, a vast amount of erratic shaking was required. i must admit i was somewhat scared the freaking thing was going to flip over. dreams were kaleidoscopic, but every sequence found me being critically judged for my various performances with voices of doom inhabited by the tremors of the train. we woke with the sunlight pouring into our window as it rose over the mojave desert near the california border. the country takes on a drastic landscape change in the southwest. the trepidation of the night quickly disappeared, easily replaced with visual wonders, one stunning sight after the other. our bleary eyes blinked at erosion sculpted red rock formations that our still asleep brains could not yet give adequate description for, settling on words like, "awesome!" and "amazing!" and "greta, wake up, you gotta see this!" 050403 ... crOwl when we last spoke to winston we asked him to again give us the whispered call to breakfast, but it never came and we soon found out why. during a stop in albuquerque, a large group of native american high school students boarded the train which added a considerable load of work for breakfast. at a short smoke break in a small california town near the pear blossom highway, that fabled road which hunter s. thompson and the art of david hockney made famous, i also discovered that a woman had a heart attack in the coach section of our train and had to be taken by ambulance to a hospital somewhere in new mexico. needless to say, the dining car was packed and we had to be placed on a waiting list for breakfast. a non-descript young grandmother from burbank, who had been to the funeral of her uncle near santa fe was seated with us. she was nervous and concerned about her leaving her four children, especially the school-aged ones. her oldest son was in the war, and one of her daughters, who lives in oxnard, has a child. i always like when kathy catches a coffee buzz and so eagerly chats. however, halfway through our meal, the lady's cellfone rang and she ended up talking with her daughter while we stuffed ourselves. greta was born in california back in 1988, although she was not even two when we left to make a new life in pennsylvania. her first return to her original home state was thrilling for her. the distant mountains, desert foliage, and sweeping vistas were continuously tugging at her. she was so excited as we neared los angeles, realizing we would soon be back to where everything began for her. 050404 ... crOwl remember in the peanuts comic strip when snoopy would sit up on the roof of his doghouse and typewrite a letter to his brother spike? he looked like snoopy except he had a moustache and wore a hat. here's a trivia question for you: i'll even give you a clue. it's the town where bobby and gary were getting off, catching a bus, and driving 91 miles to las vegas. where did spike live? needles, california? you're right. i sat with bobby for a while after breakfast and we talked a bit in the sightseeing car. he was really excited to be out west. it was his first time. the first time i went out was by myself on a greyhound bus. i was 18. i rode for three days and stayed for three months. it was all i needed; one summer that eventually turned into an endless summer, because after a year at college, i returned by car with my brother. that trip took five days, but i ended up staying ten years, got married, and had three kids. when the train stopped in needles, i went out to see if i could find bobby and gary. i waited and walked around in the inviting sunshine, but couldn't see them. finally, they came walking down the sidewalk towards the station, over-stuffed back-packs slowing them down. i already knew where their vegas bus was and saw several other fellow passengers boarding it, so i ended up showing them because they had no idea where it was. we shared a sincere goodbye. i have a foto of the two of them now that seems to capture their appreciation, temporary friendship, and genuine sense of adventure. 050405 ... crOwl i got back on the train and there was a definate end of the line buzz in the air. everyone seemed to be in some sort of preparation to depart mode. even joan was asking me if our luggage was packed and ready to go because she would set it out for us when we arrived. since it was lunchtime, the dining car was open, but only on a first come, first serve basis, with only a limited amount of food available. we sat down, not because we were hungry, simply because we wanted to see winston one last time. he definately was a highlight of the trip. he always had a kind word or a laugh. "you going to see your star on hollywood boulevard?" as i finished my fourth apple pie a la mode of the trip, we asked him if we could take his picture and he jokingly asked if we were going to put it in a magazine, which actually wasn't a joke because a few years ago we did have a homeschool zine that we self-published every valentine's day and gave out as a surprise along with some other homespun goodies and crafts to a group of 15 or so families along our dawn patrol route. "what's it called?" he asked, that trademark smile of his beaming. "zozine," we told him. it's a take on our last name, zozula, which is the ukranian word for cuckoo bird, the one that comes out of the clock. when combined with the suffix, ke, as in zozulenke, it becomes the term we commonly use when calling someone a sweetheart. he wanted a copy of the magazine, so he came back with his name and los angeles address. above his name he wrote, "zozine." when we took his foto, he had the other server stand beside him. she was also african american. a short woman with a tight afro and glasses, all spunky and nice. it's a great picture, capturing that compassionate look he gives when you are talking to him, as if what you are saying is actually worth listening to. 050406 ... crOwl approaching los angeles and its final destination, the train slowed down as it neared the station, stoking the fire of our anticipation until we burned bright and hot with the longing to get off. we hung out in the sleeper car, which had been our home for the past two days and sat on the edge of our couch/seat/bed with our noses plastered against the plate glass window, watching the city appear before our eyes. there was ample evidence of the recent heavy rains which is rare for southern california. large puddles and tons of mud riddled the area next to the tracks and the backlots of various factories, warehouses, barrios, and gang war-grafftti-laden buildings. yet, the several days of showers made the massive hillsides velvety green and swelled the river with a torrent of water, which we followed until swallowed up by the shadows of skyscrapers. los angeles union station is located on alameda street in the heart of downtown. built in1939 in the heyday of the railroad era, movie stars and movie goers alike arrived in or left through the spanish style station's platforms. by 1970, lax and airplane travel replaced the trains. but in the 1990's, metrolink was established, with a few of the coastal trains becoming the most popular in the country. one of them, the surfliner, was the train we were set to board for our final destination to ventura. when we came to a stop, joan helped unload our bags to the busy landing. kathy made sure i slipped her a tip for all of her personal touches. we enjoyed her semi-erotic intercom commentary along the way, bringing to our attention certain sights she thought worth our gaze, especially when she would point out various "critters" in the mountainous areas. red caps were gobbled up quickly so we had no choice but to grab our bags and trek upwards to the inside of the station. we were originally supposed to have a seven hour layover, but being six hours delayed in chicago, we had to find our transfer train quick. there were people everywhere in the football field length corridor, some on their way to board trains, others looking to find their next one, and the rest trying to make their way to the city. we lugged those bags like sisyphus condemned by the gods to push a rock to the top of a mountain. kathy had to give one of hers to greta. i already had two plus two more around my neck. i know we walked at least a hundred yards until we found someone who could point us in the direction of the northbound surfliner. it felt so good to drop that heavy weight to the floor. wah! camus said, "one must imagine sisyphus happy." even though we knew in thirty minutes we would be lugging them back up again. 050407 ... crOwl we were first in line, not that it meant anything, except for the comfort of knowing we were in the right line, right place, right time, and that we accomplished what we set out to do. a mexican grandmother and her 9 year-old grandson stood behind us and we chatted about riding the train, which we have been doing with all people we meet or know, even more since we came home. they were going to san luis obispo to see family for the week-end. she had a freshness and a warm glow about her that made me fall in love with life and appreciate what we do for each other, how we give our time for others. a man behind her butted in when he heard me say we came all the way from pennsylvania because he lived near penn state university. he had been visiting friends in l.a. and was catching the surfliner to santa barbara. i felt bad for him, though. he seemed all alone and his time in california only magnified it. when the call came to board, back up the mountain we climbed. it was funny when we stepped on the train because we just turned right and looked for the first empty seats we could find. some old man came and told kathy she was in his seat and as i tried to squish all of our massive amount of luggage into the tiny overhead spaces, i noticed a bunch of old ladies in single seats giving me a snooty look of guarded suspicion. turns out we were in the handicapped seating area. oh well, we were temporarily hadicapped from those bags nearly ripping our arms out of the sockets. the surfliner crew were all slick and west coast. the intercom voice was a lady sounding like she read for a make up commercial. even the ding of awareness to grab our attention sounded like the theme music from the reality show, fear factor. could you expect anything less in l.a.? we made several short stops as we moved north to pick up and drop off passengers. i looked out the window at the hugs of welcomes and departures, imagining my brother's anticipation as we got closer. i called him and could hear the excitement in his voice. towns like burbank, glendale, camarillo, and oxnard, all pushing us closer. eucalyptus trees, strawberry fields forever. rivulets of mud between the rows. i'll never forget the rainbow that stretched above the verdant hills; a fitting end to our rail adventure, but kathy's sudden gasp of elation as she saw two trees, a natural monument that marks the start of ventura, would be the audible christening of the ten days of new adventure that lay before us. 050409 ... crOwl there is a photograph of two trees in our bathroom at robin_hill. for us it's much more than a ventura landmark. it adds historical and sentimental value to rynomari, the name i gave to the life kathy and i have shared together in marriage for the past 24 years. on may 31 of this year it will be rynomari25! before our girls were born, we used to hike up into the hills of chaparral and wild daisies, past grazing horses, blue belly lizards and coral snakes, up winding, dusty trails and the smells of sage and eucalyptus, all the way to the top and have picnics under those two, massive spreading oaks. the view was spectacular with the expansive pacific ocean reflecting the sky's various emotions. on clear, cloudless days, she was azure and anacapa island, 14 miles from the coast was visible, even the fabled arch rock. on foggy days, when the mist would swallow the land like a mother's heavy embrace and blanket the horizon, she would be grey as sadness. once we hauled our sleeping bags up and joined the hawks for a romantic night under the stars and yelps of nearby coyotes. when we woke, clouds hung in the air around us like shredded cotton and our covers were dampened with morning dew, baptising us into a never ending world of love. when greta was born in 1988, she came forth limp and lifeless and had to receive assistance to breathe. her apgar score was 1 out of 1o and she had to be taken by ambulance to another hospital where she spent a week in the neonatal ward for birth trauma. naturally, we were very worried because her prognosis was poor. doctors told us, IF she even lived, we could expect severe developmental problems. kathy's hospital room had a window that looked out to two trees. the day after the birth, when she was alone recuperating, she had a vision that three little girls were dancing under them. a peaceful, comforting promise from god that greta would live and she would be healthy. maybe that explains the reason for her audible gasp upon seeing two trees from the train and greta's beaming smile. 050410 what's it to you? who go blather from