I Hear the Train a Comin'

I've always loved the sound of trains in the distance. The only thing that matches their eerie murmur of eternity is the whippoorwill, which I haven't heard in years.

The first train ride I can remember was a trip from East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, to Horseheads, New York, when I was little. My father used to take the train back and forth between East Stroudsburg and New York City for work. He brought me a Lionel train set for Christmas that I loved to run.

We moved to Chicago when I was five, and the trainyards were huge. We could hop on the El downtown and ride all over the place. Philadelphia has its own highly developed system that I used often in graduate school days, not even "needing" a car or truck for a few years.

When I travel to Europe, I'm always impressed by the rail system, and the local subways, London's Underground, the Paris Metro, trams. I love the French high speed TGV (train à grande vitesser) run from Paris to Lyon.

In Detroit, the train sounds haunt and inspire. Their wail can be heard on Twelve Mile and down by Alter Road sometimes, more otherworldy than church bells and wind chimes.

Of course, there's a lot of great writing and music that employs train themes. Trains grabbed Johnny Cash's imagination, certainly. For him and for others, they're an existential symbol of movement and freedom, distant places, despair and longing, memory.

Planes get you there fast, cars give you greater control, but ah -- the railroads are something else entirely.

Today's Rune: Fertility.

Viva the Rails!