Play me a train song

It is nighttime and the only reason I know we are climbing in elevation out of the Willamette Valley is because my ears have been popping. I plug in my laptop, and marvel at all the gadgets with which we occupy ourselves. Would more people be talking, meeting, interacting if this were not so? The power jack in the observation car is loaded down with cell phones, lap tops, and mini DVD players- this in itself becoming a point of interaction as we coach riders take turns using the one outlet. We all make sure that the elderly lady gets her chance. “I have to call my son to let him know when I’ve arrived.”

It was strange pulling out of Portland to go away. Watching the familiar fade to the unfamiliar, traveling under passes I usually drive over, seeing the back side, following the river, watching the ground freeze and the snow fall.