Northbound on the City of New Orleans

About ten minutes out of Greenwood, Mississippi I call Bo’s Barbecue Bar and Grill and order half a dozen barbecue pork sandwiches. I've just gotten a signal for the cell phone. I’m not sure what to expect. I met Bo on the trip down. Amtrak stops to change the crew in Greenwood and I knew we’d have a few minutes to get an order. When the train stops, I run to Bo’s bar. It’s a dive. A half a dozen patrons are drinking beer. "Hey Amtrak," one calls, "you’re going to Chicago, why the 'Stiller cap? (I'm wearing a Pittsburgh Steeler cap) I'm the only white boy in the place. Bo calls me back to the kitchen. He takes each rib, dips it in sauce, places a couple between white bread, wraps them in foil and places them in a bag. I grab the order, toss him some money and run back to my car. I step back on the train and a minute later, the whistle blows and we resume our northward journey. The ribs are heavenly and a big hit with others who have ordered one. It’s been a long time since I had that Shrimp Po Boy for lunch at Crabby Jacks.

Our eyes got opened on our last day in Na’Arlens. We were taken down into the ninth ward, to the place where the levee broke allowing a barge to sail into the neighborhood. They’re still searching houses for bodies here and nothing we’ve seen can compare to the destruction. It looks more like what I’ve seen of the tsunami. These houses are already demolished, washed from their foundations and broken into splinters. There’s nothing to be saved. We also go and look at the break off the 17th Street Canal. The destruction is great, but not nearly as bad as the ninth ward. Some neighborhoods are recovering rapidly, others will take years if they ever rebuild.

We’re into Memphis early, it’ll be a longer break. The engine takes on fuel. It’s cold, but the fresh air is invigorating. I walk up and down the tracks for a few minutes before heading back to my seat. People are already asleep. One lady sleeps, her head back with her mouth gaped open. Wickedly, I think I should take a picture. She’s appears to be attractive, but not in her sleep. After a few minutes of reading Stephen King, On Writing, I turn out my light, fluff my pillow up and place it against the window, falling asleep to the rock of the train.

Next think I know, it’s 5:20 AM. We’re in Mattoon, Illinois. On the platform, a group of eight young Amish or Mennonite women wait to board. They’re just outside my window and from the second deck of the Superliner, I’m looking down on them. They appear as a flock of ducks, turning their heads back and forth in unison, looking up and down the track, as if they’re a little uneasy about the journey they’re embarking upon. I fall back asleep. At 6 AM, I get up, go downstairs to the bathrooms and wash up before heading to the lounge where coffee is available as well as a plug for my computer.

The scenery has changed from when the sun went down yesterday evening. The blue skies, cypress swamps and pine hills are replaced with grayness. The sky is gray, the bare trees are gray, when we go through towns, buildings are gray as well as the crumbled remains of factories. The spaces between towns are filled with bare fields that in another five months showcase corn and soybeans. It’s over one of these fields that the sun finally breaks through, just above the horizon, burning off the morning fog. For a few minutes, the sky assumes a pinkish hue, only to quickly return to the gray as the sun continues its march across the southern horizon. Railroads merge in and out. We’re nearing Chicago. Soon, someone spots the Sears tower and we’ve completed the first leg of our journey. Just three more hours on a train and we’ll be home.

NOTE: I'll post a few pictures later, when I get them developed.