A Living Magazine - Day 367 - Homecoming - Finding Everything

Drip...drip....

I checked my watch: 4:18 a.m. My first thought was to put the fly on. But that would have been silly since I would simply have to pack it and the tent away wet in another hour or so. I said, "I'm outta here!"

Pack up took less than ten minutes, and I was on Route 2 heading north to Mass Avenue. The rain was light at this point. It was almost evaporating as quickly as it was hitting...but not quite. The only thing I'm ever worried about when I walk in the rain is that the computer will get wet. Didn't seem like it would be an issue on this morning.

I thought about so many things as I made the wet two hour trek to North Station. Seeing this near the Harvard Plaza, reminded me of my last few days...

I was soaked from rain and sweat when I arrived at the station. It took precisely two hours. It was 6:26 a.m. I was pretty tired and a bit peckish again. The first thing I did was venture into North Station's only mensroom. What a friggin' dump! This restroom was singularly the worst train station bathroom I'd ever seen--and if you've read this blog over the last year, you'll know that that is really saying something.

For a station as large as North is, owned and operated by TD Bank (with over $242 billion in assets, and additional $202 billion at any one time in deposits--being the 11th largest bank in America), with over 120 thousand travelers a day, serving the 6th largest commuter system in the nation, you'd think the restroom would at least be usable. But this neglected embarrassment has only three stalls, all with broken latches, and four urinals, always in use. On this day, one of the stalls was "out of order." Are...you...serious?

In another, a junky was camped out there fixing himself a little morning refreshment. That left the handicapped stall. I walked in to find the toilet seat had been twisted and was drooping off to one side. It was covered with flush water from the overly intense flush. A puddle of piss surrounded the base of the toilet itself. The entire bathroom reeked like a combination of human shit and rotten fish. I HAD to go. So, I cleaned everything as best I could, and put my backpack against the unlockable door to keep it closed. While doing my thing, the junky spazzed out and kicked his bag of cotton balls into my stall. I kicked them back.

His friend was outside the stalls talking to him. "Joey you're gonna let me touch it this time, right? Not just let me look at it but really touch it?"

"Arngnogloporturon..." slurred the junky, nodding off from within his stinking shit-smeared sanctuary.

I could not for the life of me figuring out what the hell these two guys were talking about. And, for godsakes, why would I want to? But I was forced to listen...

"Cos, um, cos, like lasstime you promised, but you reneged, ya fockin faggot."

"Aaanooh...mmmsorreee...."

"I got really sad, bub... Sad. I wis so depressed I hadda go home n'play with myself fa two fockin houwiz."

I finished quickly...

"Run...da...I...knowed...canhepp it...saw....sorry...touched it."

"You fockin bettah fockin mean it dis time...this... Wait, way.... My fockin phone... way... Hello? Hello? Fock! Who dah hell? Hung up..."

"Wassss...wah...wasss, ha, ha! fick, cocksockah, ha, ha, ha..." came the voice from the stall.

"That was you wasn't it? Call me and hanged up, you fockin... Doon't do dat shit, bub. Serial. I'm waiting for a call from my grammy..."

And this went on, even as I walked by the dude on the way to the sink, where I had to put my hands under the electric foam soap dispenser 16 times to get a quarter-sized dab of soap. Then I tried to wash my hands under the faucet. It was one of those that you have to push the knob and it slowly comes up shutting off, except that this one wasn't slow. It just turned off about one second after releasing the knob. This forces you to just hold the knob down with one hand, while rinsing the other, and then reverse them--essentially handling the dirty sink knob until the soap is gone, slightly defeating the whole purpose.

When I'd gone through the motions, it was time to dry my hands. I went over to the one hand dryer. and put my hands under it to turn it on. The friggin thing was so loud that it sounded like an airplane had landed inside the station. The air pressed my flesh into the bones and I could barely hold my hands up to it. And the air was cold! Yet... I could smell the faint odor of plastic burning at the top of the dryer.

Like I said, worst train station bathroom ever.

I had to take a pee later and asked the officer who was hitting on a girl in a blue dress if that was the only restroom. He said it was. And, I said, "Dude, that's worst I've ever seen."

He just nodded, and then said, "Yah, I wouldn't exactly eat my lunch in theyah." That was an unnecessary image. Shit.

I was able to publish a post while I waited. I also posted the following at Facebook to express just how significant this day was for me...

* * *

This is the day! I'm at North Station, and quite fittingly I walked here for six miles in the rain. Ha! It wasn't too bad though. I'm dirty, I'm smelly, I'm tired, I'm a bit sickly, I'm a bit crazier...but at least I'm still here. What else can I say, but THANK YOU ALL!

What an adventure we've had! Good and bad, happy and sad, sunrises and sunsets, two oceans, great lakes, mountains, deserts, swamps, plains, feasting and fasting, sun and rain and snow, injuries, coyotes, dogs, cats, spiders, birds, squirrels...tens of thousands of faces, millions of cars, dozens of trains and buses, hundreds of new friends, cities, towns, villages, and wilderness, 8,000 miles of waking dreams!

What experience could be more fulfilling, more dangerous, more exciting, more difficult, more lonesome, or, most of all, more revealing. It was a revelation of me to myself, of me to you, of you to me, of us to the world, and the world to us.

Parts of me will always be thirsty in Tucson, sleeping 50 feet from the train tracks in Memphis or watching a train travel through the sky in Spokane, walking endlessly through the vast Midwest, or being completely out of touch with you through a hundred miles of Virginia, and visiting with, Debra, Paul, Mike, Bill, Kim, Jeff, Carl, RhonnaLeigh, Glenn, Rita, Frank Vicky, Marc, Christine, Patrick, Steve, Sheryl, David, Lyn, Susanne, Ellen, Allyson, Dart, Jan, Fay, James, Jeff, Natalie, Spencer, Cynthia, Melinda, and many others...

And, where do I sit now? Where do we sit...truly sit? There may have been an Alpha, but Omega? Not a chance. Things are built and eventually all of those things fall apart. People are born and die. Some are remembered and most are forgotten. But no, there is no Omega--there is no end. The truth, beauty, and goodness of the Universe will keep creating something out of nothing, complexifying, experiencing, evolving, expanding, forever and ever and ever...

We are here, along for part of the ride--the Wallk. Maybe it will be a few years, maybe we will be invited to the Everlasting Party. Only the Sparks know. And it is their collective will to tell us just a little bit at a time. All we need to do is have the will to TRY to listen. Just trying is good enough.

"If you keep walking forward, you WILL fly."

All it takes is LOVE and...wearing your soul on the outside.

😊

* * *

The place was filling up fast with commuter train travelers. Occasionally, an Amtrak train would pull in from western Massachusetts, or New York, New Hampshire or Maine. But it was mostly T traffic. Finally it got close to my train's arrival. Train 683 was due at 11:25 a.m. It is an exclusively north running regional train run by Amtrak, called the Downeaster. I tried to lookup the exact number of trains in the Downeaster rolling stock (the name for train engines and sections--kind of like a "fleet"). But I know there are at least four trains. I've ridden three of them.

Here is a video of what it is like when a couple of commuter trains come in, then what the board looked like less than ten minutes before my train arrived...

At exactly 11:25 a.m. Train 683 pulled up to the siding, and then they let us know it was Track 8. Everyone heading to Portland scampered around grabbing their bags, kids, and coffees, then ran through the automatic doors and out onto the siding. We walked quickly along the length of the train. The conductors make it seem like they'd be perfectly satisfied to leave you there, even if the door closed and caught only your shoe. But in reality this artificial haste that they whip up is combined with a careful accounting of everyone on the siding.

However, that is not when they look at your tickets. In a procedure that always seemed backward to me, they let everyone on the train and then after you're on your way, they come by and scan tickets. Out west I saw a guy who had gotten on the wrong train, and this wasn't discovered until about 20 minutes into the trip, when the slow moving conductor finally went by to scan tickets. "Ooo... Kansas City, huh? I think you're really going to enjoy Santa Fe!" Ha! Yet, there were no such issues on this day...  

Edge of the Science Museum passes out of sight.

Looking forward.

All Portland passengers we in the same car. We had the run of the place, because there were only about ten people. Most were younger than I. Two Millennials sat directly in front of me, and I listened to their conversation.

They both had dreadlocks. His were longer than hers. They spoke very well. By that, I mean there wasn't a lot of irritating, pretentious, trendy, urban dictionary terms and such. They were actually just friends, not romantic. They were part of a traveling group, complete with big backpacks, sleeping bags, etc. The group consisted of these two folks and four others who sat further behind me.

I was unable to determine their mission, nor why they were going to Maine. 

It was a very pleasant trip, as Amtrak usually is. Riding their trains has been one of my favorite activities in the last two years. To my mind - and perhaps others would disagree - this is the best way to travel regionally. It is less expensive that driving or flying. It is fast, usually quite comfortable. There is plenty of overpriced food and drinks available, and hell, the fact that most people never think of it as an option, leaves plenty of room for the smart folks who do choose it--like me! Ha!

I started pinging my location on Facebook after passing into Maine. It was very exciting to me. I was pushing through a twenty month dream and back into the wakeful land of my youth and adulthood, where I'd spent 45 years.

I had butterflies in my stomach. When we stopped in Saco (the last place I'd lived before leaving in 2014) I just had to get a shot of the station. I'd walked around this place so many times back then, wishing I could afford a ticket out of my discomfiture and deeply depressing days. Now, here I was returning from a fantasy adventure I would not have imagined myself starting, never mind finishing... 

The Saco train station.

I had no idea what awaited me. My depression, hunger, uncertainty and general dishevelment in the last few weeks had left me with very low expectations. I really thought I was coming home to an indifferent place, where the people who had followed my adventures would then yawn and move on to the next shiny thing that passed by. This isn't to belittle your interest, my dear readers, only to tell of my delusional frame of mind. Ten minutes later, we pulled into Old Orchard Beach...

The OOB train station.

Now we were close. I felt like my mind was spinning. I could almost imagine passing out. To everyone who had remained in this Pine Tree State, it was just another day in Paradise. To me, it was as if I were Theseus finding my way out of the Minotaur's Labyrinth. I'd somehow found the string I'd dropped, and pulling on it, made my way back into the place I knew best.

Our final destination, Portland, Maine was announced. I thought that I might wiggle right out of my skin, from anticipation. It was the terminus for this particular train, which would be headed directly back to Boston. So, everyone had to deboard. It rolled slowly as it approached the last three miles of track. Old box cars could be seen, junked off at the side of an unused track. Graffiti-tagged, windowless buildings, slowly flickered their art by my window, as if it were the lens of a movie projector.

Then I saw it. The low brick and marble buildings of Forest City, the jewel resting between two hills, jutting out into Maine's queen haven, Casco Bay, like a stocking foot, soaking up her high tides, and wringing out into her low tides. The sun was high and the sharp breezes skimmed across the green waters surrounding Thompson Point. The fields of lush young grass nesting Portland International Airport's runways, seemed to bow toward me. My home. It had waited for me.

We rolled to a stop and everyone was itching to get out into the Maine air. The conductors and siding attendants walked from car to car to make sure no southerly passengers had accidentally ended up north of their destination. And then door openned. My emotions were.............indescribable....  

When I walked through the doors of the station and looked around, honestly, I did not recognize the three people sitting right there at the bench, until my sister Deb, said, "Hi Chuck! Welcome home." I was astounded at how much taller my niece and nephew had gotten. Kid years move quickly. These two incredible kids came right up and gave me a giant hug. I hugged them then Deb, and we walked out to the car. I had always imagined myself kissing the ground. But I knew that was just superfluous romanticism. Maine didn't need a kiss, but it sure gave one.

The trees were soft, the air thick, but moving, golden light reflected off all of the ordinary things I knew so well. It was like returning to childhood. Very honestly, it was like being given the chance to start over again; to relieve life, with a better understanding about how to handle it. I was changed, but Maine was the same.

We went back to Deb's house. I finally got a chance to see my old cat, Buddy. He had looked better. His old three-legged body was starting to pull him down. He is THE most amazing animal I've ever know. His spirit and stoicism is almost supernatural. He has been beaten down by life so many times, but refuses to give in. Fate will have to steal his existence, because he is never ever going to agree to relinquish it. Another circle had been completed. Now at least I could be around during his golden days.

Deb and I talked for quite a while. We were supposed to be getting down the Whole Foods restaurant to meet my brother in law around 4:00 p.m.

I desperately needed a shave and a shower. That also took longer than I thought it would. Somehow though, we pulled it all together and got to the restaurant on time. We went in and got a table outside, then realizing the wind was going to bug us, we slipped back inside to a table along the windows.

Just then, a high school friend and reader of this blog, Shelley walked right up to the table. I hadn't seen her in nearly 30 years! It turned out that this gathering was actually her idea to begin with. And more people were invited. Amazingly, she had driven well over an hour to get down to Portland. How do I even describe how generous and thoughtful that was?

After some great conversation and catching up, another friend, Amy, also from high school walked in. How cool was this? Not only was I back and enjoying my state, but I was also being reunited with friends I'd known when I was just a kid.

Then Rick my brother in law showed up. It was great to see him. One of the coolest people I know. He happens to be an popular and very talented local artist, with a fascinating, novel and unusual style that is difficult to explain, and needs to be seen. [See his page here: Rick Hamilton Art]

We all had a good old talk, and then another high school friend walked up. It was Todd! I think it had been even longer since I'd seen him. He was in the class that graduated before mine. Wow! Just wow!!

It was a great time. Other people were invited, but this was a Tuesday afternoon. I think it was just too much for some folks. Unlike me, nearly every one of my friends or the people I grew up with have families. Nevertheless, I was touched that people would care enough to do these things, to make these efforts to choose to act upon their love. And, I was quite sure I would have the chance to see plenty of other people soon enough.

Amy had to leave due to a full schedule. And Rick took the kids back to Deb's place. This left four of us...

L to R: Shelley, Deb, Alex and Todd.

We hung out for a while longer and then went our separate ways. I hoped people had a good time. I wasn't expecting this, and it felt like a great start to my time back here.

Deb and I got back to her place and talked for a few more hours. She is a person I could talk to for days and days without getting tired. But I think *I* can tire her out. She had to work the next day and went to bed.

I stayed up for a while fixing loose ends on the blog. Buddy walked in slowly. It was obvious when I'd seen him earlier that he fully remembered and recognized his old Pappa. Now he looked up at me in the way I'd seen so many times in the eleven years we lived together. He wanted to come up on my lap. I gently reached down and picked him up, noticing how light he had become. He purred with that little wheeze he always used to get when he was happy and content. It sounds like a high humming "...mmmm..." His eyes were half-open, and mine were reaching the half-closed point. 

It was time to say goodbye to the rest of America. Twenty seven other states - my homes away from home - lay somewhere on that western horizon. The brilliant full moon was rising as I viewed it from indoors for the first time in months. The little warm body stretched out on my lap was the truest sign that I was indeed home. 

I didn't think there would still be anything here for me. I expected nothing. I'd left it all and seen America--really, honestly and completely experienced it. And with each step of my return journey, I'd looked back at Maine and seen nothing. I'd been so hungry and frustrated in these last few weeks. I'd had nothing. But, to the joy of my soul, as it has begun to appear on the outside, I did complete my Journey. I had accomplished what I had left California only dreaming of. And, instead of nothing, the void had been filled.

I had returned...to find.......EVERYTHING.