I learned to love trains when my family lived in Italy in 1969.  But our family of 6 often had our own compartment, so there wasn't much mingling with strangers.  Instead we often  entertained ourselves with games like Botticelli and tic tac toe.

We always traveled with books.  I was 11 and my 7 year old brother, David was a very good audience when I read to him from my Enid Blyton books!

But one time our family joined some friends on a train for a day trip to the seaside town of Viareggio.  The 6 kids were in one compartment and the adults in another.  We were headed for a festive pre-lent celebration  which meant some of us were in costume and armed with confetti and  plastic bats for bopping strangers. (With good humor) The kid compartment was pretty wound up and giddy by the time a policeman opened the door.  Luckily he just wanted a seat.  His presence subdued us for a while, but before long he was sharing our candy and allowing us to ask him silly questions with the help of an Italian dictionary.  I don't remember his answers, but I do remember some questions.   "Are you happy?" and "Do you swim in the bathtub?" 

We boarded before dawn to find the train already jammed with holiday travelers.   Every seat was taken and the aisles were crowded with luggage.  David and I sat on our suitcases in the unheated space between train cars, until we realized there was a dining car with actual seats and tables!  Not only was the snack bar area warm, but it was alive with the good spirits of travelers who all seemed to have upbeat attitudes about this ridiculous overcrowding.   David and I were invited to squeeze into a booth with others and before long everyone was talking together.  We sat beside some children playing "Battleship" and a sweet older woman who was eating her sack lunch.  The children let us play their game when they were finished and the dear woman insisted we let her give us each a dollar.  She had overheard us worrying over having only $10.00, since it looked like weather was going to cause a huge delay in Chicago.  Dave and I ended up sharing a tangerine and candy bars with a painter from California and we discussed alligators, pollution and poodles with a man from Iowa.  By the time we reached Chicago I remember feeling bonded to these travelers.  I hated saying good bye.
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The storms didn't end up delaying our departure from Chicago.  Dave and I boarded Amtrak and actually found two seats together.  However there was no heat in our car and the temperature was in the teens.  But at least we had seats for the last half of our 12 hour journey.  

Thank you, Train Travelers! 
It was a great experience sharing food, games and conversation with all of you.  If I ever get stuck on a boat, train or plane with some kind of horrible problem like the Carnival Cruise Ship that made news recently...I hope I'm surrounded by strangers like all of you!

This is actually a dorm in St. Louis, Missouri.  In the summer of 1977 I had a summer job as a recreational worker with teens living at Epworth Home for Girls.  These young women were a difficult bunch and my job was to motivate and challenge them with engaging activities, projects and jobs.  I was feeling pretty proud of myself one day when I was able to talk 4 of them into doing a house cleaning job.  A worried husband had called Epworth looking for someone to help his sick wife clean house.  The girls decided they were up for it, if they could use the earned money to go horseback riding.

The fact that no one was coming to the door when we rang, made us begin to feel uneasy.  Something didn't feel right, but we certainly didn't expect anything as bad as what greeted us when Mrs. Van Bray finally opened the door!   There were no TV shows about hoarding in the 1970's to prepare us.  Today if you Google hoarding, you'll get one hundred photos like the one above.  If I had owned a cell phone back then I could have had my own collection of photos like this.  Then again, I probably would have called our driver to come back and get us.  But we were stuck. Our driver was not returning for 3 hours.

It wasn't easy following Mrs. V into the house because you couldn't even see the floor.  The shades were pulled, so the dim living room appeared to be inhabited by eerie, looming creatures.  It was really just the fact that every piece of furniture was heaped with trash and clutter.  The smell was overwhelming in the small stuffy rooms.   The thought of attempting to take on this horrifying chore would have terrified a professional cleaning crew and here I was with a group of already emotionally fragile girls. They looked at me with panic in their eyes and I tried to reassure them.  "Just a few hours. We'll see what we can do."

I tried to remind the girls that Mrs. V was sick. She'd had leukemia for a year.  Her eyes looked glassy and she winced as she moved her large body in slow motion.  She told me to bring her rocking chair into the kitchen so she could supervise.  And put it where?  I asked Mrs. V if she had any trash bags, but she fretted over what I might be thinking of throwing away.  I obviously didn't understand the mental illness she also suffered from.  The only things she allowed us to pitch were some moldy half eaten Big Macs, but not the Styrofoam boxes holding them.  We spent 2 hours climbing over and squeezing around heaps, while we "organized" and restacked and sorted through Mrs. V's clothing, cans, TV Guides, jar lids, dishes, clothespins, knickknacks and trash.  It was very clear that we would make no noticeable dent in 3 hours.

Getting Worse
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You taught my girls (and me) a valuable lesson that summer.  When we first got in the car we were enraged that you didn't appreciate how we had tried to help at all.   But by the time we finished ranting and  laughing, we each had a word or 2 to share about your sad state.  It was painful to imagine living a life like that.  We felt totally trapped in that world for 3 hours, but that was the life that you lived every day.  Your sad situation bonded us in a most unusual way.  We needed no Outward Bound  experience to challenge  us to work like a team.  Your house was our mounatin and I think we ended up feeling stronger about ourselves because we faced that challenge. 

I think I would have handled things differently now.  I'm sad to say, we probably wouldn't have even gone in your home.  It would have been clear you needed a different kind of help, than ours.  But I would have sent you some flowers.  I wish you could have known that we really did care about you.

I must have learned as a child to fear museum guards.  They always seemed so suspicious.   They tapped shoulders and glared and reprimanded when you even thought about standing too close to a piece of art. 

However my opinion of museum  guards changed last year when I had a relaxed visit to the lovely Menil Museum.

An Exhibit of Nigerian Statues
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I was impressed by the expressions and poses I saw in a collection of Nigerian statues.  I found myself making the same expressions as I studied the poses, through the glass. Who were the people, who inspired these statues? I realized a guard was watching and cringed that I could have looked like I was making fun. But he chuckled and we ended up chatting.  It turns out he was in fact from Nigeria and we ended up having a wonderful food conversation, because I had recently visited a Nigerian restaurant.

My Favorite Guard
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But my favorite guard at the Menil was working in a separate building.  There were no other visitors in the quiet space, but my friend and I could hear the somewhat shy guard talking softly. 

Guillermo said he fed the squirrel every day.  He dropped a peanut outside the door and watched the little guy race over to fetch his treat before a greedy bird could steal it!

You reminded me that museum guards can be kind human beings!  I think that little squirrel thanks you, too!

A recent stranger write up, reminded me about enjoying my kids at the airport. That reminded me of another memory involving my kids and an airplane.   I have always enj0yed my kids, even on trips.  But when my husband offered to sit with our 2 young kids on a flight, I grabbed the isolated seat and pulled out a book.  Ahh!  2 hours of reading ahead!

Sitting beside me was a long legged man in cowboy boots.  He fiddled with the cowboy hat in his lap.   I bumped him as I got settled, he smiled when I apologized.  I sensed this man was a talker, but I so wanted to read.  I hurried to get started on my book. 

I must have reread the same paragraph 4 times because I was so distracted by his sniffling.  Why did I have to be seated by someone with a cold?  Why doesn't he have a Kleenex?  Is he expecting me to offer him one?   I shrunk tinier in my seat as he fidgeted and fumbled.  Was he wiping his nose on his sleeve?

Then I reached for my purse and offered him a tissue.  He made full eye contact as he thanked me and I could suddenly see his eyes were watery.  "I'm sorry."  The cowboy apologized. "I'm sort of in a state.  I'm heading to my grandmother's funeral."   The moment he uttered those words, the image I had of this big, tough guy just melted.

My book stayed closed on my lap for the rest of the flight, while my new friend told me stories about his grandmother.  I don't remember the details, I just remember how touched I was to witness this change in character.  He hadn't changed, but my view of him had.

Thanks, Cowboy Friend. 
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You taught me a lesson about first impressions.  I saw your boots and hat and expected you to be an armrest hog at the very least.  You became a person I never expected.  You were kind and thoughtful and best of all you didn't try to hide your vulnerability.  When my grandmother died a few years later, I thought of you.  You must have been a wonderful grandson!

Maybe Richard's singing stirred up some old memories, because before long he began talking about a wife and 2 kids that he had lost touch with.  In a soft voice Richard began to share his disappointment in himself and the world.  I can't remember the specifics of the things he hated about the world, but he said he felt powerless to change any of it.  He figured he would pretty much live the life of a hermit  and concentrate on trying to change himself instead of the world.  I suddenly realized how very sad and lonely this man was. I thought he had just been quiet and thoughtful.  

Thank you, Richard

I was relieved when your red house on wheels pulled away from my curb.  Your sadness scared me and I suddenly began to worry about what could happen when you invite an unhappy stranger into your home.  So thanks for NOT being all those things that we read about in newspapers.  Thank you for not overstaying your welcome or doing worse. But mostly thanks for sharing a little bit of your sadness.  At 19, I was concerned with little more than my college world.  It was good for me to stop and really think about the life of another. 

I hope you're still alive somewhere.  I like to picture you sharing your life with another person, maybe in a real house.  But those are my wishes. Mostly I just hope you found happiness.

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I met Tom just after he returned from 2 days at sea on the Top Tuna!  He and his crew reminded me of weary horses who suddenly have the ability to gallop when they catch sight of the stable.  All 3 scrambled on the deck, tackling numerous chores, preparing to leave their boat for the night. Tom did the most grumbling of the 3.

​Colorful

​When Tom and Dwayne were done unloading I had a chance to admire their colorful, rubber overalls. ​Tom made some kind of crack about just how "colorful" he and Duwayne  really were... before we got off on the subject of food. ​