My Town Monday: Home is Where the Heart Is
Over at One Word, One Rung, One Day,Travis Erwin has graciously invited bloggers to share their towns on Mondays. I’ve learned a lot about a lot of places by visiting those who have posted. My daughter, a college student in NYC, taught me about home this weekend.
I boarded the Amtrak Lake Shore Limited at 7AM last Thursday. It was the first time in 20 years that I have done something totally by and for myself.
Train travel is just that—travel. On the 12 hour trip, I saw the backyards and junkyards of America, junked cars and buses and mountains of tires. I saw lakes, rivers and the foothills of the Adirondacks; cities and towns, farmland, and an incredible variety of styles of houses and barns. Trees were leafing out, and spring flowers were abundant, from marsh marigolds to trillium to skunk cabbages.
Public art abounded, brought to us by talented graffiti artists. These emerging artists adorned sides of buildings, water towers, and rail cars with their means of self-expression.
I had never realized just how much train traffic there is in this country—from passenger trains to freight trains to scenic excursion railroads. It was a little disconcerting to be the train in the middle, with trains on either side hurtling down the tracks in the opposite direction. This is when I closed my eyes.
I sat by myself most of the trip, musing, looking out the windows, chatting with other passengers, and letting myself relax, lulled to sleep by the sound of the train. I had decided to leave my computer at home, and left my iPod in my bag, next to my book.
I learned how to walk from car to car, first for coffee that was even too weak for me; later for lunch in the dining car. The dining car was full, so I joined two delightful young women at their table. We were joined by a 4th woman named Sue. Canadian college students on vacation, Kate and Leah were wonderful companions. We shared a bottle of wine, toasting my adventure and theirs.
As the train chugged along the track, I dozed and mused, drinking in the scenery. The changing topography was fascinating as we passed through different regions. As we traveled along the Hudson River, I noticed a rocky island that seemed to be topped by a castle-like structure. I made out the word Arsenal on the front of the building. This Gothic structure is the Bannerman Castle. The Canadian students emerged from their car and we talked some more, this time over soft drinks and my $2.00 bottle of water. Note to self: don’t leave food and water bottles on the kitchen counter next time!
Text messages and phone calls began arriving from #1 daughter as we approached NYC. The train was nearing Penn Station, over 12 hours after I had boarded. Wishing my traveling companions a great vacation, I left the train and climbed up the stairs to the baggage claim. My phone rang. “Look straight ahead,” said the voice on the other end.
Carrying an empty suitcase (so I could fill it up and bring things home), and a duffel bag, we hotfooted it to the hotel. My daughter immediately flopped on the bed, stretching across the entire king-sized mattress. We talked and then walked to find something to eat. I fell asleep in the chair, then stumbled to bed.
Friday morning, my daughter asked me what I wanted to do. I responded that I wanted to be with my daughter rather than to find things to do. So we walked—first to her residence to drop off some stuff, then off to Cafe Grumpy for an incredible cup of cafe au lait—fixed until this very fussy coffee drinker was grinning because it was so good.
My daughter showed me her other home, from the park bench in Tompkins Square Park to the Union Square Greenmarket. We shared an incredibly beautiful day, exploring my daughter’s new world. We came across the 6th and B Garden, an oasis or green quiet in the middle of the city; we ate lunch at the Atlas Cafe, a tiny amazingly good restaurant. We wandered in and out of resale shops and fashionista hangouts, trying on things for fun, relishing each other’s company.
Then dinner with my daughter and a friend of hers. We chose Le Grainne Cafe, a French restaurant nearby. Delicious crepes, salad and a bottle of good wine served in a leisurely fashion made for a satisfying evening. No dinner would be compete without dessert. We decided to go to Billy’s Bakery, where we chose a small but mighty chocolate cheesecake to share. It was indeed as good as it looked.
Since the train arrives in Cleveland, Ohio at 3:00am, I decided to fly home. On Saturday morning, we walked to a block or 2 so we could hail a taxi to take me to the airport. “Is this where we hug and cry?” I asked. It was. The ride to the airport was a bit harrowing and ended with the driver taking me to the pick up for arriving passengers rather than the drop off for departing ones. Rather than risking any more delays, I hauled my now full suitcase and duffel up a very long flight of stairs.
Some folks have left their hearts in San Francisco. I left part of mine with a wonderful, talented, kind and adventurous young woman in the heart of New York City. There is no place like home.
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