sunshine_comes_quietly crOwl the most happy fella, dad main event, seattle unknown white male some universal and profound questions about ourselves and what exactly made us who we are. if we are not the sum total of our experiences....................................................... who are we? o1MAR/o6 AMTRAK.PGH-SEA 060311 ... crOwl nakama march o1 wednesday i never felt adrenaline like this, where it was breathable, drinkable, turning into happiness. pre-travel excitement is intoxicating, even as i took teedo, my 6 year-old chihuahua with me to do some errands. to the post office and culligan's for salt. i put him down as i went in and he confidently padded inside and immediately checked out the grandma type ladies at their desks. they were caught off guard initially, but i introduced him as a circus dog, so they were delighted and even told me about their dogs. at dv8, a coffee shoppe/art gallery in greensburg, he was heading into the kitchen, but terry angrily forbid him, yelling about health code violations. i felt guilty for encouraging him so i bought twenty dollars worth of things...a double cap and a funky pencil holder. i showed her my new handmade cuckoobird business cards, cut and pasted from several sources. she chose the brasilian graffitti one but didn't take it because she said it wasn't finished. all it lacked was my name, phone, email, and list of services. (i didn't intend for that to be a joke) we chatted amicably about life and seemed to connect on several positive areas. she had lived in san francisco for six years and had been to seattle briefly. later, i took teedo to his grandma who he would be spending the ten days with. i had been singing to him all day about going there and he was extremely excited and was finally rewarded. 060312 ... crOwl $o.25 for a handful of wasabi peas kara(kaya from the_paper_lady_chapter_1 and Jacob's dream from the_finest_lines_chapter_1) came over to robin_hill right before we left. she was getting sick like my friend and cousin charlie kantorik who i saw at the exxon earlier. she sat at the kitchen table and drank green tea. she had a present for bethany of her poetry. we talked about life like she was our fourth daughter and we hugged as the snow continued to melt. after greta came home, we took off for beth and picked her up at her house. her boyfriend tim was pulling out of the driveway and i got out of the car to shake his hand. beth said she made a treasure hunt for him. the first clue was hidden under the cat bowl. the next one in her coffee beans. the treasure was a yo-yo. our first stop along our way to the train station was the southside works and a visit to urban outfitters. i wanted to go to the puma shoppe to show them my new, fire red subaru rally shoes but i didn't. greta scored as usual. beth got a betty boop shirt. on to nakama, a japanese steak house on carson st. i brought the waitress into our little circle and she revealed a common connection with greta...attending an actor's studio in nyc, having attended cmu prior. she was friendly and even wrote, "have a nice trip" on our receipt. i drank kirin. beth had sierra nevada. we had sushi, but kathy's chicken brought the chef to our table to cook and i almost caught the broccoli that he tossed my way. it hit me on the lip and bounced off. he liked me because he was a staunch steeler fan and he gave me a hand butt because i told him we were going to seattle to put up steeler stickers. although we didn't even take any with us. i love to break the social membrane that encases a possible communication with others. it usually just takes one question, like, "have you ever been to seattle?" it's a seed and is almost always accepted by the soil. water it and watch it germinate and grow. eventually it will flower and bear fruit ultimately. it was all just so rynomari. scripted. filmed. observed. 060313 ... crOwl we moved on to the beehive, a coffee house on carson, having received permission from the valet parking attendant. we seemed to be as yellowjackets ourselves, returning from our busy nectar flights, pollen dusted on our feet. our pre-trip buzz reached its highest point. soon, we said goodbye to greta and sat in the plastic seats of the amtrak station in pittsburgh, headphones on reading, writing, drawing, hoping for a long night's sleep as the train rumbles across ohio, indiana, into chicago. as we waited in line to board, kathy and i were talking about reckless records in bucktown, where she discovered trad gras stenar. i told her they sounded like a swedish phish. she so loved that and laughed as she pulled her luggage aboard. 060314 ... crOwl we soon lapsed into silence on the trip to chicago there was a passenger that was rapidly proving himself to be a clown of sorts; singing out loud with headphones on, pressed over his stringy, long, purple-colored hair. then, he would walk up and down the aisle with golden mickey mouse ears. i thought i would wait for him to come by and ask him some questions but i changed my mind. i was tired and turned my overhead light out. i actually fell asleep which i never thought i would have. the first time i checked my cell phone it was almost five which meant i slept four hours. i had watched 5x2, a_film_you_should_see, until the g4 battery ran out. at dawn, there was an amish baby boy in a stiff blue shirt laying in his dad's lap. he was the one whose less than irritating cries woke me off and on. an older lady in a tyedye shirt and smoker's voice, originally from new york, now living in iowa, was talking to the amish couple about the dutch presence in her town of pella, where doors and windows are made. she also told them about chocolate candy and the softest of caramels and urged them to visit if they're ever in their area. i'm sure they'll make sure to do that. actually, these amish, like most on the train, travel to mexico for cheap pharmaceuticals or cheap surgeries. 060315 ... crOwl march o2 thursday drawing of a young amish man eating cheese puffs for breakfast seems there was a brushfire up ahead threatening the tracks that forced a slight delay upon us outside of south bend, indiana. i never saw any sign of it and just heard the conductor talking on his cell phone, saying we were past it. bethany and kathy went to the sightseeing car and left me alone. i tried to sleep, but the amish baby's cries became fitful and woke me every time i actually managed to nod off. his mother was quick to soothe him. i listened to her sing to him in the same tone of his crying and it became this strange work of art that magically soothed and quieted him. i watched the mother's face reflected in the window in front of me, her white corrugated bonnet covering her pile of long hair. she picked her nose introspectively as her baby nursed on her breast. she inspected it and dug furtively again, unaware that an english was watching her. i turned away (one can only watch someone pick their nose for so long) to the seat across from her where her husband stared into space, a thick, farm-working finger intertwined above his unusual hat hair, his moustache-less beard swept upwards, as if a cartoon wind had blown it. i turned back to my window and gazed out. i saw a man stop to pet a dog, a big black one, on the other side of a fence. the dog's tail wagged with an affectionate greeting. the man looked cold. and so i drew a picture of the goofball wearing the gold mickey mouse ears, doing his performance art in the aisle. this wasn't the only hat he wore. he also had a fedora, which was beth's favorite, and a baseball cap. as i worked, the amish baby, now with his father eating cheese puffs, stared at me, his bright blue eyes so pure, so open. he started bouncing when i looked at him and gave me a huge grin of acceptance. i would return to my drawing and glance over at him like we were playing a game. he played along willingly, smiling every time. his dad noticed, and vocally acknowledged his innocent happiness to me. 060316 ... crOwl arrival in chicago FILTER we took a taxi immediately from union station to north avenue and milwaukee in bucktown. the silent indian driver brought us to filter, our favorite cafe to hang out until our new train was ready to depart for seattle. we were all zombie-like and hungry, so we stumbled about, ordered, and then sat down in the spacious, well-lit surroundings. kathy checked her e-mail. beth wrote to tim. we ate a hobo breakfast and drank a lot of coffee, gaining some reassemblance of the soul. the bathrooms are dens of graffitti which seem to silently scream forth the local expressions of a national cry. all i could add was fragrance. quimby's, the most amazing book, zine, comic (and other aberrant cultural items that all but defy explanation) shoppe, was a short walk down the street. chicago was a bit chilly so the stroll was head down quiet and quick, but realizing we arrived ten minutes before it opened and had to wait, we shivered while the girl at the counter ignored us. it was strange because she had to know we were freezing our asses off. while i was standing on the sidewalk, a paper came skidding up to me on the breeze asking to be picked up. i'm always checking out found papers, so much so that kathy gets irritated by my pack rat mentality. she jokingly told me i could only pick this one up if it actually hopped the curb. sure enough a wind off lake michigan lifted it up and set it down right on my pumas, a little trick and if it voice it surely would have announced, "how was that, huh? good enough?" when i inspected it, it seemed to be blank. kathy asked me what it was, so i thought to say nothing, but instead i said, "everything," since i figured i could draw on it. she corrected me. "anything." she said. the more i looked at it i could see that the bits of dirt and errant lines had somehow formed a deer's head complete with antlers in the folds. when i showed it to kathy and beth, they couldn't help but agree. finally, when the door opened, beth was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of fascinating reading material, all of it edgy and avant garde, not your typical barnes and noble candy. the same girl who had turned kathy on to the band flaming fire last year was the only one working the shoppe. i asked her if she had ever been to seattle, "yeah, a long time ago," she said, avoiding me. i asked her if she had any suggestions for us. she didn't. kathy bought hobo magazine. it's one of the links on ace hotel's website, which is one of the places we'll be staying while in seattle. i bought a book called,100 posters/134 squirrels by jay ryan. it has imagery and script by a genius of indie rock poster art. i was also very impressed by the work of trent call. we hailed a cab on the corner of north avenue and a young african american man silently drove us back to union station where the empire builder was ready to swallow us. 060317 ... misstree cr0wl, i'm almost scared to ask, but was the bearer of the mouse ears older-looking than usual for such a hair color? and did the mouse ears say "space" on the back? first time i ever saw gold mouse ears in me life was just yesterday... 'twould be a might bit much of a coincidence... carry on, i like looking through your eyes, sharing your travels... 060318 ... crOwl misstree...YES! he was definately older than what one would expect to have such a garish hair color, with a weather-beaten, hollow-cheeked, druggy-looking face. i didn't get a close enough look at the gold, mickey mouse ears to know if they said, "space," but if any word should have been on the back, that particular one would be most appropriate because he was indubitably "spaced" out. was he wearing glasses? do you live in chicago? i'm almost positive that's where he was headed... 060318 ... crOwl we laughed how the woman did the announcements with her accent so far everything is super-duper smooth in our new, pristine sleeper car. kathy was surprised how they were able to situation us right across from each other with accomodations highly acceptable and genuinely appreciated. when we originally purchased the tickets with the help of some american express travel rewards, the only availability at the time were rooms on separate floors, which would be oh and ever so lonely, so when we arrived with our heavy load of luggage (3 suitcases of clothing, a g4 mac powerbook, a canon rebel digital camera, a patagonia bag almost full with journals, novels {, colored pencils, glue, tape, and scissors, and a fossil bag full of notebooks and pens. i-pods, shuffles, headphones, cellphones, and finally and perhaps most importantly, dried red and green, crumbly, powdery, fragrantly aromatic in its bouquet... strawberries.) did i ever say this entire journey begins with the word, "Dad?" 060320 ... crOwl our personal attendant's name is gul (ghoul), not "gull." he's originally from India, but lived in pakistan for twenty years. now, he hails from seattle, in ballard, and he was to become a gem in our box of treasure. consentually, i had the hardest time remembering how to properly pronounce his name. i kept thinking of seagull and saying gull, almost everytime, even to him. i wonder why my brain kept screwing it up? kathy and bethany corrected me numerous times. the crew captain, jena, pronounced "gee-na," looks like your typical fifth grade teacher, motherly and kind, unless you step on her toes or mistake in her presence. then she is on you like a flea on a dog. she was very nice to us, even when we first met her, but, it's her companions bear the brunt of her verbal jostling. since our sleepers are across from each other, occassionaly we throw items back and forth to each other. we almost hit jena once with a bag of granola. from then on, everytime she passed she would stop and comically pop her head in, flash her cheeky smile and quip, "is it ok?" 060321 ... . ...it's make mistakes in her presence and it's her companions that bear the brunt... sorry for the brain freezes. 060321 ... crOwl gul came by and with his effeminately exotic accent asked if we would like some champagne. "um, yeah." i brought mine over to the girls' room, dropped to my knees (since i didn't have a seat) and proposed a toast... "TO THE CUCKOO BIRDS IN THEIR TREE!" i said, and the three of us clicked our tiny plastic glasses, relishing the present moment adventure it is to ride the train. we stopped in milwaukee, wisconsin and were impressed with its hidden potential and distant charm. one of the conductors was walking a brindled great dane working dog. he was trained for one of the passengers in the event his master contracted another seizure. we stood around waiting for the dog to take a piss. i asked gul about taking a ferry ride on the puget sound. "by all means do so," he said, "it is the essence of the city." later as we shook and rumbled across wisconsin, gul stopped by with a cartoon city map of seatlle and chatted a bit with kathy about places to go. she asked him about the jewel box theatre. "it's small, but fabulous," he said. the sun set in portage. it was sweet to watch beth cozy up to the relaxing life that is train travel. it is her first time, although she's traveled to california several times by plane. she's been drawing, reading and writing, but mostly i catch her listening to tool or mars volta and staring out the window, no doubt thinking of tim, her new love, whom she left behind in pennsylvania. 060322 ... crOwl we made dinner reservations for 7:15 and made our way up the narrow hallway and through the vacuum sealed doors, quickly stepping from the sleeper car to the dining car, lest the door sucked back closed on us. eating on the train is easily one of the highlights of the adventure. although the food is acceptable, it is the potential of being seated with a stranger that is truly what makes it a worthy event to anticipate. last year, (everyone_is_here), we were fortunate to meet a shakespeare professor from dublin and a stand-up comedian from los angeles. however, this night's dinner, as the train rocked and bucked across wisconsin, was just the three of us in the cozy booths. our waiter, who looked like a cross between benicio del toro and ricky ricardo was named ulysses, for god's sake. he seemed immediately smitten by the beauty of my girls, which, humbly i must say, is what usually happens. beth is 23, but she looks 14, and most waiters if not every one are stunned to hear her request wine with dinner. ulysses put on the charms though and continued to reveal a gravitating affinity for her by not even requesting to see proper identification. when he asked her what she did for a living and she informed him that she was a chef's assistant, he immediately played off of it, teasing her about one day working for her. we ordered steaks, lamb, and a half bottle of merlot. jena came by as we were eating and told us about a wine tasting that was planned for tommorrow after lunch. with her nasally midwestern accent she laughed, saying the cheese was from minnesota, even though we were currently traveling across the cheese capital of the country. she also goofed off with ulysses, who was basically showing off. i just wish he would concentrate on his job instead of flirting. he gave me ice cream instead of chocolate cake for chrissake! 060323 ... crOwl since gul, always thinking of our satisfaction, had our beds down when we returned from dinner, kathy decided to call it a day. we were all very tired from our erratic slumber on the way to chicago, but beth and i hung out in my room to watch junebug, a film that amy adams shines in. my bed was above so there was still space for us to sit. actually, during the course of the journey, my room became known as "the studio," because i had everything in it for the arts. however, after about ten minutes into it, i was nodding off and fell asleep after the second scene. eventually, i crawled up into the narrow space around my bunk. i had a nightmarish dream sequence that the rocking, snake-swallowing feeling of the train no doubt induced. seems i was behind the wheel of a very large truck driving along steep and winding roads much too fast, continuously terrified i would crash. o3 march friday a pleasure it is to wake to the smell of coffee, even if it is from concentrate. kathy was the first to wake (as she would the entire trip) and was already freshly showered when she slid my little, glass door and blue curtain open. she sat below me preparing for the day and i looked down at her bleary-eyed and upside down, my hair askew and my back aching. once i wrestled my same green cords and orange shoes back on, spit slapped my hair into place and brushed my teeth, we were seated with an older gentleman, named don, for breakfast. he was in his 7o's but appeared much younger, maybe fifties. i even told him. he had a tightly trimmed white beard and glasses but there was a youthfulness about him, like wherever he went summer was about to begin. you could almost smell grass being cut. when he heard that beth was 23, he said, "HOLY BUCKETS!" (the first time of many) and he went on loquaciously about his own four children, the oldest being a drug addict. "what a waste of talent," he shrugged. another fascinating thing about train travel is the openess and vulnerability that people display in conversation. he was from minneapolis, retired 16 years from at&t and now spends his days golfing as a pga senior marshall. i had asked him if he was a golfer and he seemed surprised that i had guessed right, but i was thinking, dude, you're wearing a hat that says so. he was on his way to portland because he owns real estate out there and visits periodically to check up on his developments. he asked me if i was a policeman! HOLY BUCKETS! i thought that was quite bizarre because i never said anything to give him that idea and there is absolutely nothing about my appearance that would give someone that idea. later, i asked beth why he could have thought that and all she figured was the way i was filling out the meal tickets. our food really sucked. it was the first time of all the meals on the train that i had experienced such disgust. maybe it had to do with the fact that don juan, i mean ulysses, screwed up my order again. i asked for a tuscan omelette and he brought me french toast. HOLY BUCKETS! actually i rarely eat breakfast, unless we're having famous robin_hill sunday pancakes or one of kathy's primo omelettes where i can add my own yogurt, feta cheese, and avocado. you know, give it that quevino touch... 060324 ... crOwl minot, north dakota smoke stop. passengers off, new passengers on. i usually jumped off the train when i had the chance, just to stretch, to see something new, feel the vibe of small town america in the middle of nowhere kind of thing. to watch two people reunite in overspilling gladness or part with reserved sadness. to be alone with my...self. nevertheless, there's a sense of risk lingering in the air like exhaled smoke. a pressing urgency with conductors checking their watches, ever mindful of time schedules. they set their little yellow platform down and stand there like a schoolteacher permitting the class to hurry to the restroom, or stand nearby and puff, urging them to efficiently accomplish their necessary task and return without delay. they yell out, "ALL ABOARD!" just like in the movies and you better be there or they WILL leave without you. safely back inside, i asked gul about the french pronunciation of minot. ever the one to please, he showed me the article on the town in the amtrak magazine, however, when i told him about the author susan minot, (mi-know), he was unaware of her. oh the bliss of the mind.. how it extends us beyond our reach, gaining us access to hidden worlds and visible journeys, like the one we are on. all along the way...here to there and all that is required and consumed, all that is received and given, all that is taught and learned. i sat back in satiated contemplation, headphones laid on the pull-down table, full volume pumping my vier_seizoenen mix, scissors in hand cutting images from a fargo newspaper, when beth entered book in hand. she pointed to a passage for me to read. it was from jack keroac's dharma bums. "ther's nothing in the world but the mind itself, and therefore all's possible including the suppression of suffering." 060325 ... bsc it's...kerouac...and there's... 060325 ... crOwl change to mountain time temporarily idled at a small station in welliston, north dakota, beth urged me to photograph kathy as she was busy talking on the cellphone placing orders for her miracle 2 neutralizer soap business. i quickly saw why. not only was the light perfect but a freight train was moving out along side of us and each car, like individual frames of a film, was a different color which provided a new framing background every half second. "try to snap it when it's orange," beth wished. i tried, but it was just hit or miss. i even saw one that was blue as the sea, but they all the digital shots ended up rusty or grey. approaching montana, kathy and i raptuously talked about how riding the train is an apt metaphor for reality. time is scenery. at first new and exciting and then as movement proceeds, it falls behind to the past, leaving what is vital, the NOW, which is the train itself, all that is happening around you, what you are presently involved in. i asked gul if he could bring me some champagne and he did! i loved that man! i drew his picture and made sure to give him a huge smile of big white teeth. he told me he would make sure our name was on the 1:oo lunch slate. "we'll feed you like there's no tomorrow," he said. love you man.... is there life after breakfast? we had a booth to ourselve this time, however ulysses was in high spirits, casanova-ing himself around our table. he asked kathy if i ever sit next to her and before she could answer i told him that i sit across from her so i can look at her beauty. he agreed and winked at her, making her uncomfortable. she wasn't sure if she wanted me to make a toast to him with our heinekens or not. i had the stone fire pizza which was excellent, as was the field green salad. the chef definately redeemed himself after those still frozen in the middle pieces of french toast i was forced to eat for breakfast. although no one was seated with us, we did get to observe a rathey persnickety gayboy across from us. my eavesdropping antennae picked up he was from san francisco. ok, makes sense... when ulysses removed his ice tea, it seems he wasn't quite finished with it and adamantly demanded it back. "I HAVE IT JUST THE WAY I WANT IT!" he hissed his sissy fit. 060326 ... crOwl a couple hours later, jena called us into the dining car again for the empire builder wine and cheese tasting party... the wines: 14 hands 2oo3 chardonnay snoqualmie 2oo3 chenin blanc silver lake 2oo2 cabernet/merlot columbia crest 2oo2 two vines shiraz the cheeses: gouda (it's all gouda!) tilsit cheddar amablu (couldn't get it on time) it was her first one ever, so the presentation was scripted for her to read, but it was perfect, considering we were on a train well into montana. don from breakfast suddenly showed up and we welcomed him in, unaware that his wife was sitting caddy cornered from us. it was an awkward, yet very funny moment when the two recognized each other. i guess she went first and he must have decided to come later. who knows? we were all semi-drunk by then anyway so we all just laughed it off. don really liked beth. there was a sweet grandfatherly air about him towards her. after we had tasted all the wines, nibbled away at the cheese, and the dining car was buzzing with inebriated conversations, jena made a simple number guessing contest to see who would walk away with the remaining wine. "pick a number between 1 and a 1oo," she called out. don picked 25 and beth picked 23. it was 26, so he won but ended up giving the 3/4 bottle of shiraz to her. kathy won the cab/merlot for me. needless to say, we hunkered down in "my studio" and the rest of the afternoon, we got right smashed. at one point, an unexpected jolt of the train knocked the dregs of my bottle over and the wine spilled upon my table, papers, and a bit on my ubiquitous green cords. kathy, the only one of us who was somewhat sober descended like a mother and cleaned it up. beth and i chatted about tim mostly, since that was all she was thinking about anyway. it was our bank along the river where we laid under the sun and conversed about all the wonder there was to experience. she was reading jack kerouac again and so her conversation was patched with beat expression and attitude continuously. still juiced up as the sun was setting, we stopped in shelby, montana. kathy, who rarely steps off the train for fear of it leaving without her, decided to get some fresh air. we kissed. "that's the first time i ever kissed you in montana," i slurred. she was soon shivering so she returned, but i stayed out a bit longer and ended up stumbling into a different car at the other end of the train and so i had to make my way through an unfamiliar country, past the freak show, until i finally saw people i recognized. 060327 ... crOwl at dinner that night, ulysses sat us with a barley and wheat farmer from shelby named jim. he was on his way to spokane to meet up with his wife and three of his eight daughters and then proceed on to glacier park, montana where his family has a cabin. still decently feeling the courage-inducing attributes of the wine, i boldly complimented him on his appearance, saying something ridiculous like, "dude you're totally hip!" (who knows what embarrassing things fly out of my donkey mouth when i'm drunk?) actually, he looked like he could have been robert redford's father. he had a very cool fleece vest over a flannel shirt and his hair was thick, wavy and white framing his face and skin with an absolute perfect complexion. it was not a farmer he resembled, it was more a classic hollywood film star that had fled los angeles for the big sky country. i think i overwhelmed him with my steady flow of personal questions, barely giving the poor man a chance to eat. later, kathy chided me gently. "his mouth was full!" i told him a bit about robin_hill...five acres and our scattering of various farm animals which must have seemed funny to him when he humbly proclaimed he had 65oo acres. he works the cash crops with his son and he sells barley to coors for brewing and also raises horse and beef cattle. ulysses screwed up our orders again. he must have been jealous because we weren't paying any attention to him. he totally forgot to give us salad and gave us corn instead of broccoli and instead of mud pie, he gave me freaking ice cream! when i returned to the studio, i drew a picture of gentle jim, trying to capture that look of humility when he revealed the amount of acreage. someone told us later that montana farmers are known for owning tens of thousands of acres and that his meekness may have been an indication of his reluctance to inform us of his LOW amount...what! 060328 ... crOwl whitefish, montana all three of us stepped off the train for some mountain air and right before i got back on i saw the lady from wisconsin in the adidas track suit and thick glasses that kathy enjoyed because of her infectious laugh. her husband was a quiet man who i imagined read rick bass and probably fly fished for a hobby. they were meeting up with a large group of northface clad youth that was heading to big mountain, a ski resort near whitefish. she introduced me to her son who i found out also teaches at a children's ski school. i bid them a good time. train friends...meet them and never see them again. safely back on the empire builder, i went to bed and watched 5x2 again, a_film_you_should_see in the private comforts of my lone studio. it provided excellent sleeping car entertainment, yet i found once it was over i was much too stimulated to sleep, so i used my big headphones as speakers and laid on the thin hard mattress, listened to love is all, tapes and tapes, and jose gonzalez and waited for the sandman. unfortunately, it was one of those long nights when you question if you ever slept, realizing you did because time couldn't pass by so fast unless you did. but i woke up feeling someone else took my sleep and left me with all the rattles, rolls, and shakes of the lumbering train. o4 march saturday kathy was again up first and came in my room to announce some major landscape changes as the train arrived in spokane, washington. i managed to take a shower, but forgot to get towels and had to dry off with tiny wash cloths. i even changed out of my reeking socks and put on some new shirts, but those green cords were way too cool to dismiss. i would wear them the entire trip. i mean, they just looked so amazing with my orange shoes... 060329 ... crOwl while we slept last night, our train was divided with part of it going to portland and our part remaining to go on to seattle. therefore, when we were seated at breakfast, ulysses put us in a booth to ourselves because there weren't as many people now. with there being less work for him, he was up to his usual flirting, chummy antics with beth and kathy. he put his fingers on my shoulder and affectionately squeezed as if that was his unrelinquishable pardon for acceptance. do your tricks, i'm thinking, but at least get my food order right or jena is going to fire your incompetent ass. the scenery was breathtaking. snow in the cascades. towering evergreens rolling on forever, 17,ooo ft. mountain vistas as far as the eye could see. beth said her previous worry that the world was overpopulated suddenly melted away. just as we lapsed into our reverie, the train came to a gradual stop. seems there was a broken rail inside one of the several tunnels we were choo-chooing through and we had to wait while an amtrak maintenance crew repaired it. jena came by and even though she's made this trip many times, she said the cascades are her favorite part. back in our sleepers, we talked to gul about all the tunnels and he told us one of them was the longest in the world, some seven miles! he hung out with us for a while, pointing out the names of trees and giving us historical tidbits about the area as we gazed out at the jaw dropping scenery. he epitomized the adage, "whatever you do, do your best." kathy asked him if he ever slept and he told her he survives on cat naps because he's on 24 hour call. beth loved the moss growing on the birches. we kept saying, "whoa! look at that!" mist trapped in the snow-capped behemoth mountains, raging emerald green-watered rivers, small hunting cabins hugging the banks. we wanted to paint it and so we did all over the new pages of our souls, hungry for beauty. 060330 ... crOwl when the scratchy conductor's voice over the intercom announced an upcoming stop in everett, washington i didn't hear him say it would be a smoke stop which would provide enough time to get off and explore, so i sought out gul and asked him if i had enough time to jump out for a bit. always wanting to please, he said, somewhat reservedly, "a little." i should have heeded it as a blinking red light warning, but took it instead as a steady yellow and made my quick way down the narrow steps and off the train. when i saw ulysses standing outside with a woman he was no doubt trying to hit on, puffing a cigarette like rico suave, i felt a little better because i figured it actually was a smoke stop, although when he saw me he must have observed adventurous intention in my eyes and verbally urged me not to go inside the station. ever the risk taker who hears the voice of the devil and obeys, i dismissed his advice and hurried on past travelers clutching tickets in one hand and pulling their luggage towards the paused train with the other. as soon as i pushed through the glass doors and heard the booming announcement, "EMPIRE BUILDER TO SEATTLE, THIS IS YOUR ONLY BOARDING CALL," i should have turned around. instead i pressed on to the restroom, anxiety coursing through my veins like boiling water. i kept turning around to make sure the train was still in view. is it? it was. yet, much to my horror, all the stalls were taken. "go back," a concerned angel on my shoulder said, yanking persistently on my shirt. "don't worry, it won't leave," the demon on the other shoulder said, kicked back and relaxed, taking a puff on his cigarette. each second ticked menacingly. then, a stall door opened. i rushed in and did my thing. my heart raced. however, when i flushed the toilet, i didn't realize my hopes to make it back to the train on time also went swirling down the drain. i pushed the door open, zigzagged around other guys trying to get in, saw the train, exhaled a huge sigh of relief, yet to my shocked dismay, i suddenly inhaled a blast of terror, for when i pushed through the glass doors, the train began pulling out of the station, rolling slowly down the tracks, gaining obvious momentum...LEAVING ME STRANDED! panicked, i acted instinctually, performing the only act in my bag of failed magic tricks that i had left. i started running after it, waving my arms like a lunatic, shouting, "HEY! STOP!" it was such a nightmare and i was so numb, stunned, and emotionally paralyzed that all i could do was hope someone on the train saw me. i chased it and God had mercy on me, the little boy who disobeyed. even before i had the chance to realize i had left my cellphone on the train and could even think of forming some kind of feasible plan to reunite my selfish donkey-ass with kathy and bethany, the train miraculously slowed down, as if my shouts were attached to steel cords lassoing themselves around the massive locomotive. actaully it was probably my orange shoes that the conductor recognized. later, i thought of pitching it as a new ad campaign for puma. "shoes so fast they can stop a train..." i saw an unfamiliar conductor pop his head out of a doorway and what he yelled to me i didn't understand, something like "portage, or port." for some stupid reason i asked if he was going to seattle. duh! i guess i was just so thrilled the train stopped for me and the only words that i could utter were basic and foundational. he said, "get in." he didn't even yell at me. maybe he thought i was some desperate fool needing a ride. he was right. i entered the train at the very end and had to, once more, walk through all the cars of unfamiliar people, all of them whose trip was delayed a few minutes by my selfish blunder. it hit me then, how unresponsible my heedless action was. the obvious jeopardy i had placed my girls in, the disregard of their welfare. when i finally reached the dining car and saw ulysses, he snickered and called me a daredevil. "i went to the door and tried to find you," he said. i was thinking, yeah right, you would have been glad to leave me behind so you could flirt unguarded with my girls. when i ran into gul, he was standing right at the doorway to our sleeper car, having just talked with kathy about my whereabouts. we exchanged sheepish looks and when he left me alone to face those i had tresspassed against, i dropped to my knees. "father, forgive me for i have sinned." 060331 ... crOwl back in my studio, i slouched down in my seat, embarrassed, yet extremely thankful that the train stopped to let me back on. i looked out the window, past the stately evergreens and verdant moss as if staring into the apparent dichotomy of my divided soul. there has always been half of me that refuses to comply to logic and the norm, a rashness that gambles with what is responsible and jeopardizes the stability of others. an alternative world where hedonism is embraced and altruism is a distant memory. kathy has always understood this, and has swallowed the bitter pill for 25 years, patiently enduring my clown nature. she loves me with all her heart and we have had thousands of adventures, although many times she feels she has four children instead of three; bethany, hilary, greta, and peter pan. gul was estatic because the train was cruising closer to seattle, right along the puget sound where the islands were visible under a stunning stretch of puffy, cumulus clouds. he was so charged up and entered kathy and beth's room to account for the stunning beauty, saying that the sun, as it sparkled like a myriad of diamonds on the emerald surface of the smooth waters of elliot bay, was rare. "look what you have brought with you!" he said, gleaming. he got his cartoon map out again and earnestly pointed out places for us to go. when we pulled into the station at second st. and had after two and a half days finally reached our destination, we exhaled all the pent up anticipation and inhaled all the possibilities and potential of the next chapter. we lined up with our fellow exiting passengers, gathered up our bags and departed our friendly, temporary home. gul was standing on the platform helping people off and many were slipping him offerings for all his valuable assistance during the journey. we gave him a $4o.oo tip. his kind of tireless work ethic was so inspiring and needed to be generously rewarded. he did all he could do with alacrity and grace. as we headed for the station, i saw ulysses one last time. he was puffing on a cigarette, walking with a woman i did'nt recognize. he looked at me one last time like i was someone he would remember. "nice pants," he said. "i like those." "thanks." 060401 what's it to you? who go blather from