2004 NEW HAMPSHIRE TRIP

 2004 NEW HAMPSHIRE TRIP

“You can’t take your vacation between Father’s Day and Thanksgiving,” the boss told me one day in February, “and the sooner you pick your days, the less of a chance someone else will take the days you want.”

“Okay, I’ll pick them up soon,” was my reply. Had no idea about taking some time off. Had lots of travel dreams but no plans, no passport, and not a whole lot of money.

The Lord heard the prayer of my heart, event if it wasn’t the one of my lips. That Sunday in church, Major Navarro made an announcement. “This year we are going to be hosting a special campaign during Holy week, the Territorial Evangelists will be visiting us and will be running special services each day from Palm Sunday through Easter Sunday. We are going to be needing everybody’s help between now and Easter.”

At this time I was taking Soldier classes, which are like doctrine training and was on track to get installed as a Senior Soldier on Easter Sunday. This was just the right timing. A week’s vacation and a week’s service at the corps (church). I could get this all done at once. And it wouldn’t cost any money. Ain’t it amazing how the Lord can give you what you don’t even know enough to ask for?

So my vacation days are requested and approved, and I share this with my mom and pastors. Everyone is excited about my choice. I submit all my Soldier class assignments early, just to be sure that I’ll graduate on time. This ends up not being an issue, but still I’m happy to get it done. Nothing wrong with a motivated student. 

After leaving work that Friday before Palm Sunday, the pastor calls me and asks if I can come by the corps on my way home. Arriving at the church, he introduces me to Majors Chester and Joy Emmonds, the Territorial Evangelists. They later explain that their job is to travel around the whole Eastern Territory, from Maine to Kentucky, and share the good news of the Gospel.

I end up spending some time there that evening getting things ready for the week ahead. Had a chance to chat some with our guests. They shared that they had met their first day of classes at the Salvation Army’s School for Officers training in Sufferin, MY and were married a few days after graduating, two years later. They had several assignments together and even spent five years in Chile as missionaries for the Army.

I told them about how I was using my vacation time to work on the campaign for the week and was going to be installed as a Soldier on Easter Sunday. When they told me which hotel they were staying at, I realized it was about two miles from my house!

Over the course of the campaign week, I spent about as many hours at the corps as I would have at work, but the days wouldn’t start until noon. So I got to sleep in. This was in addition to the hour plus that I saved in each direction on my commute. The service at the church wasn’t hard at all. It also gave me a good look at what happened behind the scenes. Easter came and I got to go to church in my uniform for the first time. We had a ‘sunrise service’ then a big community breakfast. Then a more traditional service after an Easter Egg Hunt.

After everything was done, cleaned up and put away, I took my mom to lunch at the Galaxy Diner in Rahway. This place is one of the many diners I had frequented in my Rocky Days. I spent lots of money here in late night coffee rendezvous and 4 am breakfasts on the way home from one of our many road trips.

Now I came in my uniform, such a long way from coming with makeup still on my face and wearing speedos under my clothes. After lunch the waitress comes over, as to bring us our bill but says, “Someone, who asks to remain anonymous has paid your tab.” This was a great blessing.

As soon as I got home, I had to share this news as quickly as I could. Before even changing my clothes. I shot out an email to tell people including Majors Emmonds. Monday went back to work, as expected.

A few weeks later there was going to be a special service at the Big Salvation Army’s Sentinel Memorial Hall on 14th Street in Manhattan. The General and all of the commissioners of all the Salvation Army Territories around the world were coming together for a conference, an annual event that different cities get to host. I was going to go straight from work (It was on a Friday evening). This was going to be my first foray out in my uniform outside our home corps. I was equally excited and nervous. I had brought my uniform into work to change into, and had sometime so gave it a run over with the garment steamers. Just one of the perks of working in the garment industry, these tools are just sitting around.

I drove to Hoboken and parked. Walked to the terminal and took the PATH train to 14th Street. Was very self-conscious of everything I was doing. Making sure I wasn’t disgracing the uniform. A term engraved into my psyche when in the US Army. My back was straight and I carried my hat in what I would consider a ‘correct’ manner, taking it off when under a roof, even in the cavernous terminal and subway like PATH train. 

14th Street is third stop from Hoboken. Upon climbing the steps onto the sidewalk, making sure my hat is at its ‘correct’ position, using two fingers on the bridge of my nose to set the covering on my head in its proper place. From the PATH station, all I have to do is cross one street, 6th Avenue and walk half a block to the Hall. Upon arriving I see several uniformed cadets, training school/seminary students standing around with their hats cocked back, tunics unbuttoned, and their hands in their pockets. All of my nervousness was for nothing. Nobody was going to say anything if I didn’t look ‘correct’. In fact, I was going to say something but chose to hold my mouth shut.

Standing there on the sidewalk on the outside of the crowd, just waiting for my friends from Perth Amboy, who were stuck in traffic. That’s when I noticed here, an elderly woman wearing a commissioner’s rank on her Salvation Army uniform slowly walking down the sidewalk. She had both her hands up in front of her. One holding a pack of batteries, the other holding a few dollar bills. I rush over to her, “Ma’am, you shouldn’t carry your money around like that, not even in this neighborhood.”

“Oh,” she says, “thank you. I needed to get some batteries for my camera.” She has a very proper British accent.

“May I help you install them,….while you put your money away?”

“Why, yes please. That would be helpful,” and she hands me her camera from her purse. Thankfully, my handy dandy pocket toolbox was in my pocket (Swiss Army knife). The batteries were installed before she put her wallet away. I showed her where to go and she thanked me.

Walking to the cadets, who were watching us, I asked, “Was she a ‘somebody’?”

“I don’t know, but she is a Commissioner, that’s a big, big deal anywhere. There is only a handful of them in the whole world.”

“She was walking down the sidewalk..holding cash out, I couldn’t let that happen.” We all got a chuckle out of that.

Within an hour I had run into Majors Emmonds and said ‘hello’. Then the group from Perth Amboy finally came and we got seats in the balcony. I ended up taking some of the teens out for pizza after the event and brough them home via the PATH back to Hoboken and to my car.

The elderly commissioner with the batteries and cash I never heard about again. It ended up being a funny story to tell the next Sunday during testimony time at church.

Major Joy emails me the next week, thanking me for searching for them to say ‘hello’. She said she was following my blog and had enjoyed going through its archive.

Things went fine for the next few weeks. One day in my email was a message from Major Joy. She asked if I was going to be at the annual convention and graduation of the Training School cadets. This year it was going to be at the Meadowlands Convention Center in Seacaus, NJ. The guest speaker for the Saturday evening event was going to be Kurt Cameron.

I replied, “Yes, the kids from the Perth Amboy Corps had sone their ‘mime/sacred dance’ competition and were representing New Jersey in the territorial level. They were all very excited.

She asked me if I was interested in being introduced to her niece, who was going to be coming to Commissioning Weekend from New Hampshire. I told her I would pray about it and how honored and flattered to be thought about in such a way. This was a big shock, and quite unexpected.

Messaging two friends about this, received the same reply from both. You should be honored and go for it!

In the morning I emailed her that I would be honored to be introduced to her niece. She later wrote me back that her niece said almost the same thing. Charlene was going to the commissioning weekend as a judge for the timbral competition. How on Earth does one judge a tambourine troup?

We exchanged email addresses and exchanged some notes over the next few days. She mentioned that she had limited free time over the weekend, but she really wanted, if possible, to go to New York to visit Ground Zero/World Trade Center area. Little did she know who she was corresponding with. Could that have worked out any better?

In the two weeks leading up to Friday, June 11th, with Major Joy, we worked out a basic itinerary. Friday we would all meet up prior to the welcoming ceremony. Afterward we would go out for ice cream, with me being the local person, had to find. 

Saturday, the competitions were scheduled to end at 2:00 and the big event was to begin at 7:00 and that when we could go to New York and be back in time to catch Kirk Cameron. Sunday I couldn’t go to the morning festivities because I had already committed to do things at our corps. Our pastors had to go to the event, so we were short handed but would get there about 2:00 in time to say goodbye before Charlene’s ride was leaving for Concord, New Hampshire.

Commissioning weekend is an annual event in the Salvation Army. It’s centered around the graduation and commissioning of the cadets from the School for Officers Training, after two years of seminary training. The tradition is that they graduate on Friday afternoon, which has almost mandatory attendance for all officers in the territory. They get commissioned which in most denominations is called ordination at a ceremony on Sunday morning, which is a church service, with the sermon being given by a commissioner, either the local one or sometimes a special guest. In 2005 we got the General himself. Then on Sunday afternoon there is a cute tradition where each new officer gets to learn their first assignment, direct from the commissioner in front of the assembled crowd, which often is accompanied with some good natured teasing. This is most shocking for the couples with children. The Army takes advantage of the opportunity to have most of their clergy present in one place to do training and other events. It’s also a very social gathering. Getting to see friends and colleagues whom they probably haven’t seen since the previous June.

A few days before the big day, had to go and scout out the ice cream shop. I had found a non-chain place online in the neighboring town of East Rutherford, the same town as Giants Stadium. There was parking and picnic tables to eat at. Good thing that the weather was going to be warm and dry because there was no cover there.

Charlene and I kept on exchanging messages a few times a day. My guess is that she was excited to come to New York/New Jersey. I refused to consider that she may be excited to meet me.

Friday, June 11th came. Thankfully the upcoming weekend kept me from focusing on the fact that it was my Nicole’s 7th birthday. I didn’t forget, but was glad to be distracted some, so I wouldn’t dwell on this to the point of despair as I had in previous years.

My thought was that everyone there tonight would be in uniform, so to stand out a bit, I had brought a nice dress shirt and khakis to work to change into. Also brought a tie, but hadn’t yet decided to wear it or not. Shared with my boss, who was the only other guy at my workplace. How I was being introduced to someone this evening. He was more excited than I was! He even said that I should leave after UPS came by for their daily pickup about 4:00 instead of waiting until 5:00.

By the end of the workday, would have preferred to have gone home to shower and nap but that wasn’t to be. After the UPS pickup, which happened even earlier than expected, I did all my usual end of the week duties and reports. I went out front to deposit the mailbox and got my clothes out of the car, which I had cleaned inside and out the Saturday prior at a carwash that our church kids put on to raise money, while the garment steamer warmed up. After steaming my clothes, ate the second half of the Jersey Mike’s sandwich that I got for lunch, my regular Friday tradition, while my clothes cooled. I didn’t want to stain my clothes.

Headed out the door about 4:30. The traffic wasn’t so bad. Heading towards the City one, gets to watch all the traffic going the other way, going slow towards the weekend. Interstate 80 East takes me and my red Subaru to Route 3 East. I80 is one of the main arteries from the George Washington Bridge and 3 one from the Lincoln Tunnel. In Manhattan they are only 140 blocks away but they are separated by a few miles through most of North Jersey, until they intersect. The ride is quick and uneventful. I was surprised that I had zero nervousness. Having swung by the convention center the other day, coming from the ice cream scouting mission. But what didn’t occur to me was I had no idea where to park pulling into the complex, can see that the minivan in front of me had a Salvation Army bumper stick. ‘Okay’ I say to no one in particular, ‘we’ll just follow them.’ The minivan winds through the area, and turns into a parking deck. We go around and up two levels. The minivan pulls into a spot on the right and who is in the passenger seat? None other than Major Joy. Again the Lord provided even before I even realized I had a need. He arranged the rendezvous.

End up parking only a few spots down from the Emmonds. We walk together to the elevator. We all chuckle over the tale that I was following them since we pulled off Route 3, and didn’t realize it. Once at the front door of the convention center, we split up. Major Joy will text me later so we can meet up.

The Army has a store, which they call Trade and they brought a lot of it to the weekend. Was browsing around some and coming into the uniform section, saw a display for their newest item, a white uniform shirt with ‘The Salvation Army’ embroidered above the breast pocket. The coolest thing is that the T in Salvation was large and bold, as if to emphasize the Cross of Christ. Ended up buying two of the, some books and a few accessories. Ran these back to the car.

Returning to the hall, tried unsuccessfully to mingle some. In my two years with the Army, hadn’t done a whole lot outside my own corps. Had to work on expanding my circle as the buzzword said.

The contingent from Perth Amboy hadn’t even left home yet. Typical, but Major Joy texted me not much later and walked confidently to her. I had recently read an article that claimed that you should walk always confident and with a smile because if you do, you project and attract a winning attitude.

Standing next to Majors Chester and Joy was Charlene. She had emailed photos to me and she had seen plenty of mine on my blog. She was on the shorter side, 5’5” or so, with brown hair and eyes. As expected, she was wearing the standard white blouse and navy skirt of the uniform, with the soldiers blue epaulettes. A few steps before arriving Major Chester turns around and spots me.

“Oh, here you are,” and chuckles behind his big beard and glasses.

“Hello again,” I say with a smile.

Major Joy cuts right to the heart of the matter. “Charlie, this is the woman I had been telling you about (but she really didn’t tell me more than her name). This is my niece, Charlene.”

I turn and smile extending my hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She blushes a bit. “Yes, yes it is,” she seems to stumble. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Major Joy steps in, “So, you have got the ice cream parlor all lined up for us later?”

“Ah, yes. A local place, just 5 minutes down Route 3. Are you all staying in the official hotel?” I check and everyone is nodding. “Ok, it’s at the next exit West. Even went by there the other day. I had to sample their wares before bringing my friends there.” This makes everyone laugh.

“I’m sure you did,” Major Chester laughs.

“Is the Perth Amboy continent here?”

“No, not yet. About ten minutes ago they were just leaving. They have rightly earned their reputation for always being late.”

“Well, come sit by us. Things are about to start,” Chester says as he checks his watch.

“Yes, please, that would be lovely. Thank you,” I say while looking at Charlene.

We manage to find some seats together, as the band begins to warm up. I manage to secure an aisle seat and Charlene sits next to me.

“How was your drive down?” I ask her.

“Long, very long. Our Sargent Major swore that he had a shortcut. He was wrong. It took almost 7 hours.”

“Oh, how long should it have taken?”

“Six hours, tops. It’s not as if we were dealing with a big city rush hour. We left at 9:30 and should have been at the hotel by 3:30. I think he was mostly interested in saving money on tolls.”

“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that. How many people came with you?”

“There were nine of us, in a fifteen seat van. There was plenty of room to stretch out which was once nice point.”

“You still want to go to Ground Zero tomorrow?”

“Yes, please. It’s something I’ve been looking forward to from the day they asked me to judge the competition. I looked online how close we would be to New York. My first thought was how I was going to get there and see it.”

“Well, there is not much to see there currently. It’s mostly just a big hole in the ground. The final design plans aren’t so final, yet.”

“I still would like to go, if you don’t mind.”

“Your wish is my command.”

This makes her chuckle and blush a little. Just the effect I was shooting for. “The weather should be good. Tell me, how do you feel about boats?”

“You don’t need to get on a boat but if time permits, it’s a more pleasant way to get there. It also eliminates the need to drive and park in Manhattan, which I prefer to avoid if possible.”

“Don’t have a lot of experience on boats,” she says hesitantly.

“It’s not like a cruise ship. It’s just crossing the river. Did you come over the George Washington Bridge?”

“We did.”

“How long did it take to cross the river?”

She thinks for a moment. “Maybe two minutes.”

“It’s about a mile but the boat isn’t important. We could drive or take the train. On the train the stop is still named World Trade Center which is a bit unnerving at first for most people. But there is lots of time between now and then.”

“It’s ok. After the long ride, I’m very happy to be here.”

“I’m very happy you’re here too.” And smile. She smiles too.

About this time the band begins to play and everybody finds a seat.

The New York Staff Band, a 50 piece, mostly brass ensemble, plays a rousing march. The seated crowd begins to clap in time. In the four or five minutes they played, the whole audience of about 500 were all ready.  Prayers and speeches and introductions took up most of the next two hours. During that time, I got texts that the Perth Amboy group were here and seated. 

At the end of the event, I say, “I’m about to try to find my corps, I’ll meet you at our cars in…20 minutes or so?”

Major Chester says, “Give us a half an hour, please.”

“Yes, sure,” then I look direct at Charlene, “I’m looking forward to it.” I smile, then turn to try to find my friends.

With one eye on my watch, I eventually find my friend, Christine. “Hey, ou made it.”

“Lord only knows how,” she laughs, “we can never get out of there on time.”

“It’s good to see you.”

“So, where is she?”

I feign bewilderment. “Who?”

“Oh you’re so full of it, Major Joy’s niece,” she turns her head in all directions. “Is she cute?”

Now it’s my turn to blush. “Hopefully you’ll meet her tomorrow. You can see for yourself.”

“Is that a yes…or a no…sounds like a cop out to me.”

“Ha, ha. So where is the rest of the crew?”

“They went over to the store. Don’t know why. Nobody has any money.” More laughter.

“That will change, one day. Maybe it will be a motivator?”

“Doubt that. A whole lot!”

“Hey, ya never know.”

“When are you going for your big ice cream thing?”

I look at my watch. “I’m meeting them in the parking deck in fifteen minutes. Was going to make a bathroom visit first.”

“When you gotta go…”

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll text you later, if you’re free we can chat.”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t stay out all night.”

I look out for the men’s room. Good idea to go here. Didn’t look out for one at the ice cream shop the other day. Must remember to do that in the future. Thankfully, there wasn’t a line and got in and out. Near by was the front door. Got to my car with a few minutes to spare. Was trying to play it cool, think I was doing well.

Right on time, Charlene, her aunt and uncle come over from the elevator.

“Hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long?”

“No, just a minute or two. Everyone ready?”

“Yes, we’ll follow you.”

“Ok, sure,” I climb into my red Subaru and start her up, pull out and wait for them to get behind me. They manage to stay close enough behind me that nobody pulls in between us. Down the ramps and out onto the street in front of the Convention Center, out of the complex and onto Route 3 West.

Passing the large Giant’s Stadium on our right, Major Chester stayed right on my tail. The first exit past the Meadowlands Sports Complex was our turn off the freeway. Just a few blocks up was our stop. The parking was on the left side and the shop on the right. We park and make our way across the street. We stand staring at the menu board for a moment. I am standing next to Charlene.

I say to her while staring at the menu, “Anything catching your imagination?” I say without thinking about it. She either didn’t catch it or chose not to say anything.

“Yeah. A brownie Bonanza sounds interesting.”

“A woman after my own heart,” we both laugh as I place our orders. I collect our dishes and we make our way to a table. We each have a hard time waiting for the Majors to join us, the treat looks quite good. It’s also large…maybe we should have split one instead?

Once we’re all seated, Major Chester says a blessing and we dig in. We must look out of place, everyone around us seems to be wearing t-shirts and shorts and at our table is three in uniform blouses, with epaulettes and me in a shirt and tie. I’m super careful not to drip anything on myself.

“What is that parking lot for?” Major Chester asks.

“Oh, that is the train station over there.”

“Does that train go to New York?”

“Ah, no. That line doesn’t. If your headed to mid-town, you take this train one stop and change trains. Then it’s eight minutes to Penn Station, 34th Street between 7th and 8th Avenues. If you’re going downtown, take this train all the way to Hoboken, twelve minutes, then you take the ferry or a subway like train to the other side of the Hudson River. In ten minutes you can be at Wall Street or where the World Trade Center was.”

“Are you still going there tomorrow?” Major Joy asks.

I look at Charlene, “Lady’s choice.”

“Oh, yes, please. I am really looking forward to it.” Then she pauses for a moment of contemplation. “I hope nobody things I’m being morbid. It’s just..it’s been the focus of so many prayers these past years…” She glances at me.

Major Chester jumps in, “I know what you mean. It was the same for us. We were in chile, praying hard, when we finally got to New York in 2003, we had to go too.”

We continue to dig into our melting treats. “I’ve brought a lot of people there these past three years. It is still on peoples’ hearts and minds. People still line up to see the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor and the Alamo in Texas. There was an article in the paper in the spring…The Tourism and Convention Bureau says, ‘the Ground Zero is still on top of most visitors’ Must Do Lists’.”

“Makes me feel better,” Charlene says, letting out a sigh of relief, “was hoping that nobody was going to consider it creepy or morbid. I used to know someone who was fascinated with the graves of historical figures. Everyone thought she was very odd.”

Major Joy adds, “Oh, no that’s a real thing. There are many websites filled with photos of the graves of the famous and infamous. Complete with addresses and directions for visitors. Must be a big hobby.” This gave her a chuckle.

Within ten minutes, we are all done and to make room for others, we gathered up our garbage and cleared our table.

“Well, I guess we’ll call it a night. You can follow me. I must go past your hotel to get home.” I turn to Charlene, “It was very nice to finally meet you. I’m looking forward to being your tour guide tomorrow.” And give her a big smile.

She returns the smile. “Thanks for the ice cream. It was nice to meet you too.”

“You’re welcome,” and we cross the street to our vehicles. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” We all shake hands and climb in our cars. In just a few minutes we’re back on Route 3 and the hotel is just off the freeway. They make the correct turn, I make the next exit, onto the New Jersey Turnpike. Not far on the highway my phone signals a text. It’s Christine.

“How’s it going?”

With the ‘hands free’ device in my ear, I just call. “Hey, where are you at?”

“We’re almost in Perth Amboy. Ricky is going to drop us at the house.” Ricky was the ‘Corps Helper’. The next year he would be entering the Training School himself. “How about you?”

“I’m on the turnpike, passing through Newark.”

“How was the big date?”

“It wasn’t a ‘big date’, and it was fine. The four of us went for ice cream. Tomorrow Charlene and I are going into the City.”

“Ice cream and New York…sounds typical for you.”

“No. I would have worked pizza in there somewhere.”

“So true, so true,” she laughs. “Maybe you’ll get some tomorrow?”

“Ya never know.” More laughter.

“Are you going up with our mime troop in the morning?”

“Yeah, Ricky is picking me up at 9:00. We have to be there by 11:00. Mrs. Major wants us to be in her room in the hotel at 10:00 to get into the costumes and things.”

“Ok. I’ll see you up there. You’ll have to babysit my mother. I’m not going to subject Charlene to her just yet.”

“I hear ya, that’s a smart thing. We’re pulling up on my block, so I’ll yak to you tomorrow, kiddo,” and she hangs up.

Not much later I’m home. My mom quizzes me on the evening and I show her my new uniform shirts. She says that, “Mrs. Major wants me to be in her room before 10:00 to help with the costumes.”

“Ok, not a problem. We can leave about 9:30. The hotel is right at the turnpike Exit 16W. Real easy to get to.”

Before going to bed, my phone chirps with a text. This one is from Charlene. “Thank you again for tonight. Looking forward to tomorrow.”

“Me too. Good night.” Was my reply.

In the morning, took my time getting ready. Even updated my blog, was careful not to go to heavy into the ‘date’. Just mentioned ‘After went for ice cream with my new friend, Charlene, and her aunt and uncle, Majors Emmonds’. I was always hesitant about putting too many personal details ‘out there’, never could you know who was reading it.

By (:00 was all dressed and ready to go. Mom was shortly there after also. We zipped up the turnpike without issue, being there was no traffic on this Saturday morning. Just before we pull into the hotel parking lot, Christine texts me that they had actually left on time and were on their way.

Parking the car, we enter the hotel. This is my first visit here. Had read online that this is the place where visiting teams stay, when playing games at the neighboring Meadowlands Sports Complex. The New York Giants and Jets of Football play at Giants Stadium and NY Metro Starts of Soccer and the NJ devils of hockey and Jew Jersey Nets of Basketball play in the Continental Airlines Arena. In the complex also is the Meadowlands horse racing track.

The lobby seems to be three stories high, with lots of natural light and gathering spaces. There were many in uniforms milling about this morning. One of my first thoughts is that the bar must not be getting much business here this weekend. I was proudly wearing my new embroidered uniform shirt, had left my tunic and cap in the car.

“Where is the Trade Store?” mom asked.

“It’s not here. It’s at the convention center. We’ll be there tonight.”

“So I’m going there in the van and you’ll be taking me home?”

“Yes, I’ll meet you over there this evening.”

“How will you find me?”

“I’ll figure it out, you can always call me. You brought your phone, right?”

“Yes,” she double checks her purse, “it’s right here.”

“Ok, good. Did you want to go up to the Navarro’s room now or wait for everybody else?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s get some coffee, we can sit and wait.”

“Yeah, but you’re buying.”

This makes me laugh. “Sure, mom.” Once I get us some coffee, I text Christine ‘we’re in the lobby, outside the coffee shop waiting for you.’

I also text Charlene. ‘I’m down in the coffee shop, would you care for anything?’ She doesn’t text me back. Maybe because I’m staring at my phone, anxiously waiting for her to do so. I keep my gaze toward the open space, but the chance of me spotting someone I know is just about zero.

We’re sitting there, nursing our overpriced coffees. Eventually, my phone chirps and I jump like a trained poodle. It’s not Charlene but Christine. ‘We’re pulling up to the hotel.’ I peek at my watch, they are on time, miracle of miracles!

Sharing this news with mom, we finish our coffee and walk over to the entrance, getting there just as our friends arrive. The kids are a bit overwhelmed at the sight of the lobby. It takes some time to herd the smaller ones toward the elevator. It take 3 elevators to get us all up to the small room.

There was no reason for me to wait in the hall, so I went back to the lobby. Near a large “Welcome Salvation Army” sign I find a directory, which shows which conference rooms different activities are in. The timbral’s room is a short walk from the mime room, which I can’t decide is convenient or a curse.

My mom was aware of the situation but she was never as happy as when she was the focus of everyone’s attention. And she never was sha about telling the whole world this. This could be an issue, but there wasn’t much I could do at this point. My hope is that she’ll be wrapped up in what she’s doing and not paying attention to the activities going on about her, which was not uncommon.

I go up to the conference rooms, which are all set up, but empty, with 45 minutes before things are to get started. There’s not much to see there and eventually, wander back up to the Navarro’s room.

By this time everyone is just about ready. There is some general chit chat going on. Some of the kids are staring out the window, being 15 stories above the Hackensack River and looking at the asphalt ribbon of the turnpike as it cuts through the Meadowlands Marsh with Newark less than 10 miles to the south. New York and the Sport complex were not visible from this window which only pointed south.

Soon I’m back in the hall and near the elevators, chatting with Christine and Ricky. He was also quizzing me on Charlene. These two were among my closest friends, still it was odd for them to be interested in what was happening. Mainly, because nothing was happening. There was nothing to report.

This is when Charlene returns a text. ‘Could you meet me in Timbrel room, it’s on the 4th floor.’

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

Christine asks, “Oh, was that your new lady friend?”

I reply all cheesy, “Why, yes, it was. She is requesting my presence.” I press the elevator button. “So, if you will excuse me, I have a date.”

A handful of our teens are near and say, “Ooooh.” Which makes everyone laugh as the elevator doors open. I slide in with a blushing smile, that I hold on to till the doors close. Being alone, I check myself out in the mirrored doors. All looks well.

On the 4th floor, turning right after exiting, it’s only a few feet to the room, which now had quite a few people in it. Charlene is sitting behind a table in the back of the room. This would make sense as a judges’ station. I walk up.

“Hello there.”

“Good morning,” she says, “Sorry I didn’t text you right back. I was in the shower. Ran into some friends when we got back. We ended up talking till 2 am! That was a big mistake.”

This makes me giggle. “I can believe it but that is to be expected at an event like this.”

“Could you please get me some coffee, let me give you some money.”

“No, I got this. How do you care for it?”

“Milk and two sugars, please.”

“You got it. I’ll be back in a few. Anything else you want?”

“No thanks, we got room service breakfast. Thank you again.”

“Not a problem.” I turn on my heels and head back to the lobby. Now there is a line at the coffee stand. I buy three, figuring she’ll need another sooner or later and one for me. There was no holders, so had to carefully balance the three cups in my hands. Thankfully, someone else pressed the elevator’s call button before my arrival. Once on, someone had pressed the ‘four’ button before I even had to ask.

The 4th floor was now all abuzz with activity. A startling contrast to 45 minutes prior. Working my way into the Timbral room and I silently placed the two coffees in front of Charlene, who was involved in conversation with others, whom I presumed were fellow judges because they were also sitting behind the table. I just slid away and found a seat in the audience. 

At the front of the room was only could be described as a ‘stage’, a platform raised up about three feet off the floor. Maybe 30 feet wide and 20 feet deep. In front of them was a seating area, with maybe 60 chairs, with a central aisle down the middle, 6 feet wide. In the back of the room was two folding tables, end to end, with the 7 judges sitting behind it. There were clutches of people standing around, perhaps 20 in total. Besides the judges, I may have been the only one sitting. Just me and my coffee, being careful not to spill any on my new shirt.

Someone I recognized climbed up onto the stage with a wireless microphone. He was the Captain who was in charge of all the youth programs in New Jersey. He spent his summers living and working at the Army’s Camp in Warrant County, with all its kids cycling in and out each week. Plus running all throughout the state the rest of the year.

“Welcome, welcome everyone to the 2004 Timbral Competition Finals.” There was some polite applause, which didn’t even have 10% of the enthusiasm of his welcome. People who were standing around started to find seats.

Our MC said a prayer and then shared how things were to unfold. The Territory gave each of the 10 divisions a copy of a recording. Each division then gave a copy to each corps. Each division had its own competition and those winners were meeting here today to decide a champion.

When I first heard of this, it was strange to think that it was possible to choreograph a group of tambourine players into a cohesive team. To shake and tap their instruments and do dance steps along with a recording of a brass band.

There was a schedule of which divisions were performing when. The first was all ready. My guess is that they knew they were going on at 11. Maybe the schedule was published.

The kids took their place on the stage and at the right cue the music started. Performers did all kinds of dance-like moves, with streamers floating off their tambourines. At one point, they began tossing them into the air and not long after that they’re flying across the stage, being caught by another performer. This elicits some ‘woos’ from the audience.

The whole performance lasts about 4 minutes. It’s response is applause from the audience and some hoots and hollers from what I assume is the family members of the troop. The MC goes back onto the stage and asks the performers where they were from, how long they had been practicing. After a few minutes of this he looks to the judges and asks, “Are we all set?” Someone must have said ‘yes’. “A round of applause for the talented group from Ohio!” And they exit the stage.

“Charlie, Charlie,” Charlene calls me. I go over and squat beside her. She’s at the end of the table.  “Thank you for the coffee, both of them. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Enjoy them.”

“You’ll have me running to the lady’s room all afternoon.” She laughs, “But it’s appreciated, a lot. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I smile back.

“I still can’t believe I stayed up that late. I just haven’t seen my friend in two years. We grew up together. Closer than sisters.”

“Oh, I get it. No reason to apologize.” More smiles.

About then the MC begins to warm up for the next group. I stand and return to my seat and my coffee, as the next set of kids climbs onto the stage.

It’s the same music, but a whole different routine. A very creative lot. When this group is done, my phone buzzes with a text from Christine. “How’s it going?”

“All is well, how are things there?”

“Good, our kids are up next.”

“I’ll be over in a few.”

I go back and squat beside Charlene. “I’m going next door for a few, our kids are doing their mime performance.”

“Go ahead, you don’t have to wait around here all day.”

“Do you need more coffee or anything?”

“No, I’m ok.”

“Ok, if you need anything call or text me. Anything at all.”

“Thank you.” She smiles and pats me on the shoulder. 

I get up and make my way through the crowd into the mime room, spotting Christine and Ricky standing on the side. My mom and Mrs. Major, as we called our pastors, were sitting in the front row. Our kids were ready to climb onto the stage.

Ricky says, “Where were you?”

“I was next door. Charlene is a judge for the timbrels.”

Christine adds, “Too bad she isn’t a mime judge, these kids are good. We are going to need all the help we can get.”

Our kids get onto the stage, their music begins and they do their interpretive dance. A routine I’ve seen half a dozen times by now.

Ricky asks, “do we get to meet your new friend?”

Christine is all excited. “Oooh, let’s go. I gotta see,” and she leads us out. Then she realizes she doesn’t know where she’s going and turns towards me. “Which way?”

I lead the way. Standing in the hall, among the crowd, we stop by the entrance of the room. Charlene is facing the stage, so we can only see her in profile, sitting closest to us. We can hear the music of the performance.

“Ooo, she’s cute,” Christine says. This makes us all chuckle.

“Too bad her aunt wanted to introduce her to me,” I joke, this brings more chuckles.

We go back into the mime room, in plenty of time to hoot and holler over our kids. “Most of the other groups were older. Ours is the only one with 7 year olds. There is no way we’re going to win.”

“Now we have 7 hours to kill before we get the bad news,” Ricky says.

“What are you planning to do between now and then?” I ask.

“Lunch….and dinner, we’ve got time and no money. A recurrent theme around here. I hope the Majors don’t want us to all hang out in their little room all afternoon.”

We give final applause as our kids climb from the stage. This room is a mirror image of the other. I give our performers high fives as they pass me, back into the central hall. I get at the end of their line, until we’re all gathered together. Mrs. Major Navarro gives a little speech on how very proud of them all she is and how they represented our division well.

“Now, we’re all going to go back upstairs and change out of our costumes. Then go to McDonald’s for lunch.” For the kids it’s a treat. They may end up back there for dinner.

Standing next to me is Christine’s children, 14 year old Anthony and 16 year old Diane. Anthony asks, “So what’s up with your big date?”

“She is judging the timbrels,” and I point to the other conference room.

“Oh, oh, oh. I wanna see,” says Diane. She was in the State Timbrel ensemble. And she scampers off. I point this out to Christine and she waves her away. “She knows what room we’re in, they’ll catch up. Let’s get the smaller ones taken care of first.”

Soon Anthony and I join Diane in the timbrel room. There is a group performing their routine on the stage. Anthony whispers, “Which one is your date?”

“The one on this end.” He looks over to the judges table, then I have to nudge him cause he’s staring. At the end of the performance, Captain Thompson gets on the stage. Diane and Anthony both recognize him from camp and other youth events.

We wait there for a bit. Eventually, they head up to the hotel room. I slide over toward Charlene. “Do you want some more coffee or anything?”

“No, I’m ok. We’re almost done here. Only two more groups to go. Listening to the same song ten times in three hours is tougher than it sounds like.”

“Oooh, I hadn’t even considered that.”

“I didn’t either, until the first time I had to do it.”

The MC takes the stage again and begins to introduce the next group. I slide away back to the hall and check out some of the other competitions; youth choral groups, piano, trumpet. I keep looking around but don’t run into anybody I recognize. Eventually, back in the timbrel room, in time to hear the MC wrap things up after the final group.

Everybody stands and most shuffle toward the door. The judges huddle together in a corner, each with a notepad, as they tally up their findings. I’m the last non-judge left in the room, just sitting there by myself. Eventually, the judges come to a decision and their clutch breaks up.

Charlene walks towards me and I stand. “Hey, I’m sorry but I’m gong to go lay down for an hour. I’m just wore out.” She pulls out her phone. “Look I’m setting the alarm for ninety minutes from now. That will give me time to get upstairs and into bed. Then I’ll call you. I’m so sorry….it’s just…”

“That’s fine. There’s plenty of time for that. Go have a nap. If you want, we can go to New York after the event tonight. They don’t call it ‘the City that never sleeps’ for nothing ya know.”

This makes her smile. “I’ll call you in an hour and a half.” As we walk towards the elevator banks. She goes up and I go down.

Soon I’m outside in the parking lot. I decide that I’ll think this over during lunch, my tummy was quite empty. I jumped into my car. Pulling away from the hotel, with no particular direction in mind, my thoughts tell me to head towards the ice cream shop from last night. There must be something in that neighborhood. The idea is quite correct, pulling up in front of a Quiznos. I had never been to a Quiznos before, so I take a good long look at the menu board. All I know about this place is what they said in the commercials. “It’s toasty.” The smell was quite inviting, right after stepping in the door, my thoughts were, “Oh yeah…this is going to be good.”

I place my order and watch the sandwich get made and put into the conveyer belt style toaster, coming out the other end all steamy with melting cheese going down its sides. Placeing a napkin into the neck of my shirt happens right after a silent prayer. Don’t want to ruin a new shirt. Then it occurs to me…had Jersey Mike’s sandwich for lunch AND dinner yesterday, now Quiznos today. I’m the new Earl of Sandwich!

The toasty treat is quite good, but I’m feeling a bit guilty eating alone, knowing my friends are minding a group of kids and my mother. It’s best to allow Charlene rest, maybe going tonight will be a better idea than the afternoon. Keeping one eye on my watch and the second on the dripping sandwich, lunch goes slowly…just biding my time. Enjoying each bite.

With 20 minutes left on the timer, it’s time to collect myself. It’s a trip to the men’s room with some extra time before the mirror. Then back in the car. The gas tank was 3/4 and that was plenty. With five minutes to spare I enter the hotel lobby again.

Right on the button, my phone rings, “Hey there, how was your nap?”

“it was just what I needed. Thanks. Is it too late to go to New York?”

“Nope, it’s ready whenever you are. I was thinking, tonight may be more dramatic but it’s your choice.”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby in five minutes?” It’s more of a question than a statement.

“I’m here, ready when you are. Want some coffee or something?”

“No, I’ll be right down,” and she hangs up.

“Looking forward to it,” I say to nobody at all. The phone goes on vibrate, then into my pocket. Would prefer not to have anything disturb us.

She finds me before I even begin to look out for her. She walks with a spring in her step. She’s now wearing jeans and a blouse and sneakers. Probably a sensible choice when going into the City with me, and I didn’t even warn her. Maybe she read about this on my blog?

“Hello there, you look refreshed!”

She laughs, “Yeah, it’s still embarrassing.”

“Don’t sweat it. Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah, let’s go.”

I point the way to the door. “It’s quite warm today,” she says after stepping outside.

“If you think it’s hot and humid today, don’t’ come in July.” I reply with a chuckle. I open the door of my Legacy for her. By the time I walk around she has unlocked my door and had her seat belt on. In less than two minutes we are out of the parking lot and on Route 3 East.

“We’re still wanting to be at the big event before 7, right?”

“Yes, I don’t want to miss that.”

“Ok not a problem.” My mind thinks, we only have two hours. “Well, we can just drive in, park and walk around some. Not a problem. We’ll have to save the boat ride for next time.” I grin, and turn toward her for a moment.

“To be frank, I wasn’t so keen on the whole boat thing anyway.”

“That’s fine, just wanted you to have that option. It’s not everybody’s thing.” We pull up to the toll booth on the Turnpike.

“We aren’t going straight through?” She asks, pointing towards the Empire State Building, which is clearly seen. “From our window it looks like Route 3 goes right there.”

“Yes it does, but that is mid-town. We are going downtown. Maybe we will come back that way. Let’s see how the clock treats us.” We pull onto the highway. “did you spend much time on I95 coming down here yesterday?”

“Unfortunately, no but we finally got on it in Connecticut through New York and into New Jersey. It was after the rush hour, we should have got on it near Boston and stayed on it the whole way.”

“We’re only going about 8 miles, just a few minutes today.” My brain goes into tour guide mode. “This is the Meadowlands, a large protected fresh water marsh. That’s the Hackensack River to our left.”

“Freshwater you say, how far are we from the ocean?”

“Less than 20 miles along the river that is.”

“Does this empty directly into the ocean?”

“No, it goes into the Newark bay, which flows into the New York Harbor, which flows into the ocean.”

“A round about route.”

“Yeah, there is lots of water around here. With Manhattan being an island, makes commuting on a ferry an attractive option. One company uses the line ‘the civilized commute’ in its advertising.”

We pull off at the exit for the turnpike’s Hudson County extension. “If you look to the right, you’ll see Newark and as we round the ramp, Newark/Liberty Airport.”

“There are some skyscrapers in Newark too.”

“Yeah, but being in the shadow of New York like it is, they’re not so noteworthy.”

We glide onto the extension of I78, which takes us over the Passaic and Hackensack Rivers. Once we pass the Bayonne exit, I point out more things.

“You see the building with the green pyramid on top?”

“Yes, what’s that?”

“That’s the American Express Building. We’ll be in that in a little bit.”

“Really. OK!”

“It’s right across the street from the World Trade Center.”

“It was right there?”

“Yep, I’ll send you a link to some photos from here on 9/11. Keep in mind, all that started about 8:40 in the morning. This highway was filled with commuters on their way to work. People were looking out the windshields of their cars, thinking it was going to be just another Tuesday. They were witnesses to history.” Then I spot a helicopter. “See that chopper there?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not much further away than ground zero from here and a 757 is a lot bigger than that. Would be hard to miss, especially if you are staring out of the windshield.”

“I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

“My mom’s friend was at work, across the street from there. There were no windows, they were told ‘there is a fire across the street, we are evacuating the building. Pretend it’s Friday afternoon, shut everything down and go home and wait for a phone call.’ So she shuts downs her computer, grabs her purse and goes to exit the building. There is a guard at the door. She is used to going into the train station that’s under the Trade Center to go home. The guard isn’t letting anyone out. She ask shy and is told that there are people jumping from the building onto the street. She doesn’t get home until that afternoon after walking 50 some blocks to mid-town. She put in for a transfer to a different department. It was more than six months before she would go back into the city.”

“She worked in the pyramid building?”

“No, one three blocks from there. I’ll point it out.”

“Now you’re frightening me,” she says with a chuckle.

“Look to your right, you’ll see the Statue of Liberty.”

“Oh, there it is,” she stares for a few moments.

“That giant ball on the right, that’s the IMAX screen at the Liberty Science Center.” We pay the toll at tool booth for exit 14C and are now zipping through Jersey City. In just a few minutes we are looking at the toll booth for the Holland Tunnel.

“This is the Holland Tunnel and no it doesn’t take us to Holland. Mr. Holland was the engineer who designed and guilt it. After he dies, just before it was finished, they decided to name it after him.”

“Now a days they name everything after crooked politicians.”

“Very true.” I pay the $9 for the toll and we enter the tunnel. “When this opened in the 20’s, the toll was a nickel,” this makes her chuckle. “Ill show you in a bit, but the fans that bring the fresh air into the tunnel and pull the exhaust fumes out, they were the largest fan blades ever built at the time. A major feat.”

In two minutes we’re amid the city street in Manhattan. Pulling off at the first turn, we head downtown.

“I didn’t expect to come right into tall buildings like this,” she says, a bit shocked.

“Being an island, space is at a premium. So to make the most of an investment, you build as many floors as you can.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“In the suburbs you may get ‘sprawl’, in the urban areas, you have vertical growth. These are mostly residential buildings, with retail on the ground floor.”

She takes a good look. “Oh, couldn’t imagine living on the 20th floor of a building.”

“How tall are the buildings in Concord?”

“The building I work in is five stories. Can only think of one that’s taller than the Capital Dome, and that’s a state office building.”

We continue to cruise downtown in the light traffic, then it occurs to me…I’m unsure where we can park in that neighborhood. Then one place comes to mind. West Street bends to the left a little.

“See the building with the green pyramid roof right there?”

“Yes, it’s only a few blocks away.” She leans forward to look out the windshield at the right angle. We drive another three blocks to the parking lot.

“We’re only going to be here, maybe, two hours.” I tell the attendant and pay the $15 and drive in. “This is the place where they set up the ‘Tribute in Lights’ which is a series of spotlights.”

“I saw your photos of it in your Fliker account you sent me the link for. That must have been impressive to see up close.

“It was. It was also loud.”

“Why loud?”

“There were also a whole series of large generators powering the spotlights.”

“Never thought of that.” We get out of the car and walk together to the South. We get to the end of the lot, then cross the street. We walk to the corner of the building.

“This is the building with the green pyramid roof.” I slap it with the palm of my hand. “We’ll go into it on the way back.” 

I lead her to the stairs of the sky bridge, where we peek out onto ‘Ground Zero’. 

“Well, this is it. I told you that it’s just a hole in the ground right now.”

“It’s a big hole.”

“Sixteen acres.”

“What’s that building there in the corner?”

“That’s the ‘temporary’ train station.” Using air quotes. “It’s called temporary but it’s in the same place it was before the big day and that’s where the finished station will be.”

“Is it a subway station?”

“No, that train goes under the river into New Jersey.” As if on cue, a PATH train comes into view. “Here goes one now, the tracks are also on the same place they were on before the World Trade Center was built in the 70’s. There is a subway line that goes right through the middle of the site. But it’s covered.” I point this out. “We will see it better in a minute.”

“Where were the towers?”

“Building 1, the one with the antenna on top was there and Building 2, with the observation desk was there,” as I point these areas out.

“So they built the tallest buildings in the world….on top of existing railroad tracks?”

“Yep…and without interrupting train traffic and there going to do it again. The Freedom Tower, or whatever they’re calling it this week, right here in this corner of the site.”

“Ok,” she takes a minute to digest that thought. “What are they doing with the rest of the site?”

“That corner is going to be the train station entrance, they haven’t yet released any design plans yet. There is going to be three other office buildings on that side. They keep mentioning a performing arts center, a museum, both underground and the rest will be a memorial of some kind. I’ve heard stories about design competitions but the politicians and the company that has the lease on the place keep butting heads over who is in charge.”

“Sounds typical.”

“It is, whenever political interest overlap, it’s bound to happen. I also want to point out, the river used to come right up to the street here on the right.”

“How did they build all this then?”

“It’s all landfill. This whole neighborhood started in the 70’s when all the excavation from the World Trade Center was just dumped into the river.”

“Now they have this large office complex here.”

“and all these residential buildings…maybe 20 thousand people. It’s got it’s own zip code.”

“That’s more people than live in my town.”

We continue to cross the sky bridge over West Street, going down the other side. 

“This is the Verizon building, all the phone circuits for this whole area go through this building, which includes all of Wall Street. The next block on the left is Seven World Trade Center. In the basement of this building was the high voltage electrical transformer for all of the Southern Part of Manhattan. When it came down, all the power was cut to the whole area.”

“How are they building that now and nothing else?”

“It’s privately owned. There is no government hands in this.”

“Oh, ok.” We continue walking East on Vesesy Street. 

“This next building is where my mom’s friend worked.”

“You are right, there are no windows.”

“It was originally a mail sorting facility from like the 20’s. Now the ground floor is a Post Office and there’s other Federal Government Offices in there.”

“Where did your mom’s friend work?”

“She worked for the EPA. Now she works some place in Jersey.”

This is a lot to take in for her. It is for most people their first time.

In January, my friend Missy talked me into buying two tickets for a walking tour of the area, then she chickened out when it looked like it was going to be only 20*F that day. So that gave me lots of info to share and a good example on how to give a tour myself. Tools I was putting to full use today.

“We’ll come back here in a few minutes but I want to show you this first.” I lead her across Church Street.

“This church looks so out of place amidst all these modern buildings.”

“This is St. Paul’s Chapel. The oldest surviving public building in Manhattan, built in 1766. There is a Revolutionary War General buried in the yard. This church even survived the Great Fire of 1776.”

We walk around to the front and then into the church. There are sets of pews in the center of the nave, and two fenced off boxes on either side, each with two chairs.

“When George Washington was inaugurated as President in 1789 and the capital was in New York, this was the church he attended. He and Martha sat in that box on that side, and Governor Clinton and his wife sat on this side.”

Behind the Governor’s box was a display featuring a cot with some blankets, and a whole collection of Fire Department patches from all over the world.

“After 9/11, they opened up the church for a rest center for first responders. They would come and sleep in the pews. Volunteers manned the site 24/7 for months caring for folks.”

“Where did the Salvation Army set up?”

“I’ll show you that too. It’s only three blocks from here.” We walk around the church to the President’s box. “This painting is the first version of the presidential seal that we see now-a-days on the podium whenever a president speaks anywhere.”

“That’s not much of an eagle.”

“Well, a little known fact…Ben Franklin was opposed to the eagle as a symbol for the country. He wanted the turkey. The legend is that he gave the instructions to the artist to pain it like you see it.”

“I head about the turkey thing before. Maybe in High School. I see turkeyness in this painting, eagles don’t have combs.” This gives her a chuckle.

We exit after giving a donation to the church. Now we’re getting ready to cross Broadway. She sees the Street sign, “Is this THE Broadway?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Where is Times Square and the Theater District?”

“About 60 blocks uptown from here.” I point to the left. The light changes and we cross the street to City Hall Park.

“In 1776, George Washington read the Declaration of Independence to the bulk of the Army in this park. This was after they were chased out of Brooklyn Heights. This changed the whole war from one about taxation without representation to a war of independence. Not all of the troops were happy about that.”

“I could imagine.” We continue to walk through the park. What I want to do is hold her hand but I shy away.

“This is the Woolworth Building, in 1915 IT was the tallest building in the world.”

“What a difference 90 years can make.”

This makes me laugh. “Yeah, it does!”

“This is City Hall. Can you believe, when it was originally built, the back end was plain bricks. They thought few people would ever see it because the city wouldn’t grow much past here.”

More chuckles. “Well they were wrong!”

“Very true.” We walk up some more to the side of City Hall. 

“This I recognize. It’s the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“Yes, ma’am, this it is. If we had more time, we could walk up it a bit.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No need to be sorry. Maybe next time?”

“Yeah, sure. But could we do something while we’re here?”

“Sure, what would you like to do?”

“Go to that hotdog stand.” She points to an umbrellaed cart. “I haven’t had any lunch.” She says embarrassingly.

“That’s not a problem.” I say as we walk over. “I gotta warn you though, they are know as ‘dirty water dogs’ for a reason.”

She laughs some more. “I read that somewhere or maybe saw it in a movie.” I order one for each of us. We sit on a park bench and eat. I glance at my watch. If we want to be back by 7:00 to the big event, we should be on the road by 6:30. That’s plenty of time for a Saturday evening. So we had an hour more for the tour. I was pretty sure our itinerary would give us plenty of time. After the hotdog break, we retrace our steps through the park and back to St. Paul’s. Going this way, we can look over the Ground Zero sight, past the ‘temporary’ PATH station entrance.

“What’s that building wrapped in black?”

“That’s the Ducha Bank building. There is a big dispute with the insurance company over it. The insurance policy said fi the building is damaged but repairable, they’ll get half a billion, if it’s destroyed, one billion. The city and state have declared it destroyed but the insurance company still insists it’s repairable. It’s a big court battle. Not long ago some investigators were allowed in, they found bone fragments and lots of scrap metal from the World Trade Center that came in through the windows.”

“That’s just awful.”

“In the meantime, there is no money to do anything with it, so it’s wrapped up in the meantime.”

“I thought it was just us little guys who have issues with insurance companies.”

“No the company that was leasing the World Trade Center complex, the lease started September 1, 2001. Coincidentally enough, is in dispute with their insurance company also. As I understand it, the policy states they can claim 1.5 billion dollars per incident and the lease holder says the two airplanes should be two separate incidences, the insurance company says it’s only one incident.

“You’re kidding?!”

“Nope. That’s why nothing is being done here for so long, ya can’t build until you know your budget.”

“For which of you desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish…”

“Luke 14, excellent point. So it may be 15-20 years before everything is done around this neighborhood.”

We again cross Church Street, this time heading downtown. This is the main area for visitors wanting to see the site. There is a 20 foot high steel mesh fence. The top half has signs with the names of the almost 3,000 people lost that day, with photos showing how the complex looked during its construction. Near the middle of this three block long stretch, on a pedestal is the Cross that became a symbol of hope during the period initially following that fateful day. This area, I’ve discovered, is usually a place of quiet contemplation. People look through the fence at nothing, then up at the images of what was once there. Then back at the nothing and what’s not there any longer. The traffic on the street behind us is louder than the conversations here.

We continue South, slowly. It sounds funny but this large empty space is a lot to take in. When you think what was, not so long ago and this great hole in the ground was of such great focus of the world’s attention.  We get to the corner of Liberty Street and I point across to a small plaza.

“That’s where the Salvation Army had set up its giant circus tent. On 9/11 the equipment that’s usually in Florida for hurricanes, a big mobile tent kitchen, showers, all its supplies, were sent here. It operated until June 2002, when the place was all cleaned up.”

“I saw your pictures from 9/11/2003 in your Fliker site. Oh, I said that half an hour ago, sorry. Anyway, I recognize this fence. People should come here to see all of this. It’s a big deal.”

“Yes, I agree with you on that, but I’ve come across people who live 30 miles from here, and won’t come into the city anymore.”

“It’s a scary thing to think about but no one will move on until they move past this.”

We make a right on Liberty Street and come to the firehouse. “There is a firehouse right across the street from it?”

“Yeah, they lost some people that day too. Three hundred-forty-three firefighters lost that day, hundreds of others injured.” We go to the side of the firehouse where there is a great commemorative mural painted, flowers, candles and other memorials of many sizes litter the sidewalk below it.

“Over here was a Greek Orthodox Church that was flattened that day. They still aren’t sure what there going to do here.”

We go another block south and then west. Eventually going all around the Black Clad Doucha Bank building and climbing up the steps of another sky bridge over West Street. 

“This is original, it survived that day. It used to go directly into the World Trade Center.”

“How did it survive when all that steel was falling 1500 feet on top of it? Destroying everything around it?”

“Who knows? So they added the steps afterwards. There was still lots of people who had to cross West Street every day and there are no crosswalks or traffic lights for a few blocks North or South. They just used what was available.”

We cross West Street and are now in the World Financial Center. “Remember the building with the green dome on top?”

“Next to the green pyramid? Yes.”

“This is it. I told you we would be here.”  We cross another sky bridge but stop half way through.

“See the river there.”

“Yes.”

“Well, remember I told you how all the power and phones were down when the buildings came down? It also disrupted the system of pipes that fed the fire hydrants in the area. There was a fire department boat that the city had sold at auction the day before for scrap, named the Harvey. What the fire department did was take it, the winning bidder was going to pick it up the next day, and brought it to this cove here and they ran the fire hoses under this sky bridge to put out the fire.

“There must be thousands of little stories like that.”

“Yes, and the Smithsonian and National Archive are trying to collect them all in the ‘Story Corps Project’. That would be a tough job.”

We continue over the bridge and enter the Winter Garden. “Almost all of the glass you see here was destroyed and most of the granite of the floor too. They went to the same quarry in Italy that they got the original floor, being 30 years later, it was a different shade. So they replaced the whole floor. Also with all of the glass gone, the original palm trees died, they were replaced too.”

We walked out of the Winter Garden towards the cove. Then looked at the yachts as we walk to the riverside. A New York Waterway ferry was coming toward us.

“There is the boat that I had asked you about.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting. Now I’m sorry we didn’t do that. It’s a nice sunny day, would have been nice.”

I point to the left. “Maybe you can see it but the Statue of Liberty is out there.”

“Yep, I see it. Or is it her?” More giggles.

“That’s all New Jersey over there.”

“How far away is the George Washington Bridge?”

“Maybe 220 blocks uptown from here.” I wave to the right.

“And the ocean?”

“Maybe 8 miles past the Statue, not very far if you see that white concrete structure there,” I point.

“Uh-hm.”

“Those are the vents of the Holland Tunnel I was telling you about before.”

“With the giant fan blades?”

“Yep, that’s them. There is another one on this side, the tunnel runs right underneath.”

“So we crossed right there?”

“Yep, that’s one of the reason they built a tunnel instead of a bridge. It would have taken up too much real estate.”

“That makes sense.”

We turn back and walk towards the Financial Center. “Can you see the pyramid and the dome roof?” I point up.

“Oh yeah, thanks for pointing them out to me. It gave me an orientation to our whole walk.”

“We’ve seen a lot but only went in a circle a couple of blocks.”

“I noticed, thank you.”

“Oh in this building,” I point to the left, “is the American Stock Exchange. The New York Stock Exchange is on Wall Street, only a few blocks from here but..” I look at my watch.

“I really appreciate you giving me this tour. The abbreviated version at that. It’s been even more than I could have hoped for. I was expecting to see only a big hole in the ground. And I got everything, including tidbits on George Washington, and you made the whole story come to life.”

We reenter the Winder Garden. “I’m very happy to do it for you. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now, finally we’re in the American Express building with the green pyramid roof.”

“Just like you promised.”

“Yep,” I take a moment and smile as I open the door onto the sidewalk. “That’s about it. The car is on the next block. Would you like a pretzel?”

“Ahh..ok.” We go to the corner and I buy two. Then we walk to the car. I look at my watch, we are here with about ten minutes to spare. Not too shabby. We get into my car and I turn on the radio for the traffic report. It sounds like the Lincoln Tunnel is fine, so I decide to go that route.

About then her phone rings. “Hello. Yes, it was so amazing. We’re just coming back now. Ok. I’ll see you there. Save me a seat and I’ll tell you all about it. Ok. Bye. That was my Aunt Joy. They’re just getting to the event and says there filling up fast.”

“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I didn’t mention that I was a bit disappointed that she didn’t say ‘save us seats’.

“That is plenty of time.”

“So tell me, how does one judge a timbrel competition anyway?”

“Mostly it’s uniformity, synchronization and creativity. If you are good with the choreography and drill everyone well, you’ll do good.”

We continue up the West Side Highway. “Have you been playing the tambourine a long time?”

“Since I was a kid. When I was about ten years old, we got officers at our corps who were real enthusiastic about it and the band and dance. We were doing something nearly every night after school. I just got into it at the right time with the right teacher. I’ve been doing it ever since.”

“Have you won many competitions?”

“Yes, Division and Territory. Even taught it one year at the summer camp.”

“That’s really great!”

“I see the street signs went from named streets to numbered ones.”

“Yes, in the very early 1800’s someone figured out that the city may eventually take up the whole island and then they started the grid pattern that we know today. Somewhere in the East Village there is a corner of First Avenue and East First Street. Today it goes up to 225th Street in Washington Heights.”

“What did they do before then?”

“In the southern 10% of Manhattan, they had a haphazard tangle of streets with names. They straightened some out but allowed them to retain their historic names.”

“Where did Broadway come from?”

“It’s actually a historic Indian Trail that went all the way through. So they kept that too.”

We pull off for the ramp for the Lincoln Tunnel. “How much is this toll?”

“Actually, it’s kind of funny. Jersey has the Hudson River in the East and the Delaware on the West. You can cross into Jersey for free but you have to pay to leave.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. You’ll see.” We ship through the ramps with very little traffic. Soon we are in the tunnel. “Ok, the trick here is to keep your eyes on the side wall of the tunnel. There will be a line, with New York on one side and New Jersey on the other.” 

It isn’t too long before she sees it and is quite excited. A minute after that we’re back out in the daylight.

“Ok. Keep your eyes out the right side of the car. As we go up this helix you’ll see the river and the Empire State Building and Mid-town.” She anxiously turns to look out.

“Oh, wow. I’ve got to make more time to come and see New York soon.”

“I’d really enjoy showing you around all you want. Make a list of what you may want to see.”

“There are so many books and movies and TV shows that are based there.”

“On IMDB.com, if you put in the name of any of these movies or TV shows, it will tell you some of the locations where they were shot.”

“Oh, I’ll do that as soon as I get home.” She’s almost squirming in her seat. Soon we see the signs for Route 3.

“I told you, Route 3 will bring you straight into New York.”

“That you did.” It’s only about ten minutes into Jersey that we’re pulling off into the convention center area. Soon we’re in the parking deck and parking.

As we are walking back to the center I say, “I told you we would be back in time. We still have about 15 minutes.”

“That’s perfect, cause I need to use the bathroom.”

“Is the ‘dirty water dog’ treating you ok?”

“Oh yes, that’s just fine.” We enter the facility. “Thank you so very much. We’ve seen so much in the past…” she checks her watch, “…has it really been three hours. Lord have mercy.” She gives me a hug. “I’ll talk to you in a little while. Don’t leave tonight before talking to me. Please.” She adds as an embarrassed afterthought.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She heads to the ladies room. I look for the mens room. After peeing I look in the mirror while washing my hands. I did real good today. I think I’ve made a great first impression. This may lead to good things. Upon leaving the bathroom, I call Christine.

“Where are you guys?”

“On the far right of the place, about halfway down the aisle. We’re all standing around, not even sitting down yet.”

“I’ll be right there.” I go to the right side of the auditorium and down the aisle. Sure enough I find my group. 

Christine asks, “How’d it go kiddo?”

“Fine, how did you guys do?”

Anthony pipes in. “So your ‘big date’ went fine?”

“Yeah, just walked around the Ground Zero area, nothing that I haven’t done with YOU.” I add for emphasis. 

“Did you take her for pizza?” Diane asks.

“No but we got ‘dirty water dogs’ and pretzels.”

“You are a born romantic, I’ll tell you.” Christine laughs.

My mom comes up to us. “There you are. Can you believe they’re sold out of the embroidered shirts?” I’m not surprised that her first words are about herself.

“Did you order any? They are taking orders for things.”

“Why would I do that? I want it today.” Says the woman with three George Forman Grills sitting unused in her kitchen cupboards.

“I will order you one, if not this weekend, then online next week.”

“Why didn’t you get me one yesterday?”

“I didn’t know you would want one. How many times do I gotta say that?” Thankfully the orchestra started to warm up, which was everyone’s cue to take their seats. I end up sitting between my mom and Anthony, who is in his mime group costume.

“I thought you took off your costume earlier?”

“Yeah, but had to put it back on. If we win, we gotta do it up on the big stage, with the band playing and in front of all these people.”

“Oh, that’s exciting!”

“No way. I don’t wanna do this in front of all those people. Man, I never wanted to lose so badly before.” This makes me laugh, which makes him laugh. In an instant everyone around us, including our pastors are starting at us. We quickly quiet down.

The Commissioner takes the stage and the orchestra plays. Prayers are offered and speeches are made. Kirk Cameron speaks for about 20 minutes on how he was treated in Hollywood as an Evangelical Christian. He was a good speaker and didn’t talk too long.

Eventually, awards were announced. Our kids didn’t even make the top three. Anthony made an audible sigh of relief, which made me snicker. Then there were more speeches and other awards given. A bit after 10, things wrapped up. Everyone got up to stretch. 

My mom says to me, “I wanna go home now!”

My mind quickly went into action. “Major Emmonds wanted to see you and say hello. They asked me to bring you to them.”

Now she had the thought that she could be the center of attention for a few minutes. So she consented. I text Charlene and she told me where to meet her. So mom and I go over and there they were. I introduce mom to Charlene. Major Chester talks to mom. Major Joy and Charlene and I step to the side.

“Well, hello Mr. Tour Guide.” Major Joy says, which makes me blush. “Charlene told me all about your quick visit. If I would have known, we would have asked you to show us around in April.”

“How long will you be in town?”

“We’re leaving Monday morning for Maine.”

“Another big campaign?”

“No, we are going to Old Orchard Beach, teaching some classes in English and Spanish for a few weeks.” Old Orchard Beach is a Victorian Era Oceanside resort, part of it is a Salvation Army Camp.

“That’ sounds like you’ll be stationary for a bit?”

“Till the end of June anyway. We got a posting to Dayton, Ohio, starting on July 1st. We’ll be there for at least year.”

“Is that good news?”

“Living from our suitcases for the past two years was a blessing….but tiresome.”

“I could only imagine.”

Then I turn to Charlene, “I’m glad you had a good time this afternoon.

“It was so much more than I had wished for. Thank you again.”

“It was my pleasure, very much so. Unfortunately I’ve got to bring my mom home. She has had a long day with the kids of our mime troop.  Will I see you tomorrow?”

“I hope so. We’re coming up after our church service, about noon or so. We’ll miss the commissioning but we’ll be here for the assignment ceremony.”

“We are leaving about 2:00. I hope to be home by 8:00.”

“Avoid any so called shortcuts.”

“I was thinking of giving our driver cash to pay the tolls, just to head straight home.” Then she comes to me and give me a hug, which is a great surprise. “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to that! Good night.”

Then I collect my mother and we get out to the car on the deck. It takes a while to exit because everyone is doing the same thing at the same time. But within 20 minutes we’re cruising south on the turnpike. My mom chews my ear off about how she had to keep the kids entertained for 7 hours. And after all that they lost anyway. Then she decided she was more hungry than tired. So we went to a diner to eat on the way home.

Once home, I downloaded the pictures from my camera onto the laptop and emailed a link to Charlene. She wouldn’t check them until she got to work on Monday. I hadn’t noticed but was a bit miffed at myself because I didn’t get a photo of us together.

Sunday went to church and helped out as much as I could. There were people more senior to me who were clueless. So I didn’t feel so bad not knowing what to do. After church, I agreed to drive the church van to the convention center. My hope was that only one or two people would be interested in going, that way we could all just get into my car but that wasn’t the case. Once some parents found out that there was something to do, they unloaded their kids on us. Some thought of the church as a babysitting service. At my prodding we left very shortly after noon. Mom and I ended up buying Taco Bell for everyone. We were told to turn in the receipt and get reimbursed but I never did. We pulled up to the center shortly after 1:00.

I texted Charlene and explained that she had to find me, because there was only my mom, Christine and myself to mind 10 kids. She came outside to see us. Our thought was we could let the kids get some air, being they would be in the center all afternoon anyway. I introduced her to Christine and her kids and the other kids.

“We’re all packed up. We may even hit the road before 2:00.”

“I’m glad I got to see you before you left.”

“Yeah, me too. I had told several people about the tour yesterday. Some were a bit jealous!” She grinned.

This made me laugh. “I am so glad you enjoyed it. I emailed you a link to the photos.”

“Thank you. I may look at them tonight. We only have dial-up at home but I may just look tonight, instead of waiting until I go to work in the morning. That is if I have any patience left by the time I get home tonight.”

“I hear ya!.” Then I see Anthony near me. “Do you mind if I get a photo of us?”

“Oh, not at all. What would be fine.” She says. I give Anthony the camera and he shoots some frames for me.

“I’ll send you these also.”

“Yes, please.” That’s when her phone rang.

“Ok. I’m outside. Sure, let me pop in and visit the ladies room and I’m ready. Ok” Then she turns to me. “We are getting ready to go in a minute.” She gives me a big hug. “Thanks again for everything. It was very mice to meet you. I hope to talk to you real soon.”

“It was nice to spend time with you and am looking forward to doing so again. Text me when you get home, so I’ll know you are there safely. Have a safe and quick trip, no short cuts!” She laughs as she walks back inside.

“So, she was your big date?” Anthony asks.

“Yes, that was Charlene. Major Joy’s niece.”

“Where is she from? She talks funny.”

“Outside Concord, New Hampshire.”

“How far away is that?”

“Not sure. Maybe 300 miles or so.”

“Dude that’s far. You gonna move there?”

Both Christine and I bust out laughing. “I only met her like 48 hours ago. You already got me moving in with you?!” I put my arm around him so he knows that am only joking with him.

When the event begins, we’re all sitting inside. There are more prayers, speeches and music. The special guest speaker was the commissioner of the Norway and Iceland Territory. The big event was last, the assignments of the newly ordained captains, which always involves a great amount of teasing.

One couple they call up and our commissioner says, “I can’t even read this.” And calls over the Norwegian Commissioner to help him out. The Norwegian Commissioner says, “Oh, you will be the new Assistant Corps Officers in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania.” Which is a great relief to the young couple, whose face is enlarged on the giant screens for all to see.

Another memorable one was a single woman, the commissioner asked her if she liked Chinese Food. Her eyes bugged out. “ah, yes sir,” she said timidly. “That’s good, because you are going to be the Youth Officer in Chinatown, New York City.” Then she began jumping up and down with excitement.

Eventually, things wrap up and I drove everyone home. Then got back to the church to drop the van off and pick up my own car. I took my mom out to dinner again. Finally got home about 7:30. I sent out the photos and updated my blog concerning the whole weekend and its activities.

I was getting things ready for the next day when my cell chirps with a text. ‘Got home a bit after 8 and all was well. No shortcuts.’

To which I replied, “It’s an answer to prayer.”

“Thank you again for everything.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll talk to you soon, I hope.” Soon thereafter I’m in bed. My alarm set for 5:15 am.

Monday at work my boss asks about all that happened. So I tell him. Later that day Charlene emails me, thanking me for the photos. She said that her family and coworkers were excited to hear about the Ground Zero tour and to see the pictures.

Major Joy also emailed me, thanking me for showing Charlene around. Wasn’t sure if she was trying to play matchmaker or not. So I didn’t push the issue.

Over the rest of the week, June 13-17, Charlene and I chat. (She installed Yahoo Instant Messenger or her work computer). And even talk on the phone once or twice.

The next Monday, June 20th, she mentions that there is going to be a big event over Labor Day Weekend at the Camp at Old Orchard Beach, ME, where her parents were going to be working over the summer as was their tradition since retirement a few years before. She suggested that I see if I could come for it. While I’m thinking about this, the boss comes into the warehouse.

“The wife and I have decided that since the fourth of July is on a Sunday this year, we are going to give everyone a three-day weekend by closing Monday too.” This was welcomed news. A nice break in the beginning of the busy season, where we aren’t even promised Saturdays off until Thanksgiving.

Not long after these thoughts, I’m sitting at my desk, I message Charlene, “I don’t want to wait until September to see you again. What are you doing for the fourth of July? The announced that they will be closing up on Monday the 5th for a three-day weekend.”

This may have thrown her an unexpected curveball, cause it takes a while for her to reply.

“Where our corps is, there is the city fair grounds, there will be a festival on Sunday the 4th, and we will have an open house, and be selling drinks and snacks. We also allow people to use our bathrooms for a donation, which is very popular.”

A bit later I reply, “Are you looking for some volunteers? I’d like to come up and see you.”

She replies, “My kids will be at camp. So there will be two empty bedrooms at our house. My parents will be here.”

I’m not 100% sure if that’s an invitation or not. I was hoping for a “Please come”. So was not sure how to reply. Good thing work kept me busy the rest of the afternoon. Come 4:30 she messages that she was leaving work and I should text her when I was free to talk, which she normally sent at the end of the work day.

For curiosity, I went to Amtrak.com and put in Metro Park to Concord. Amtrak didn’t serve Concord directly but its partner carrier offered bus service from Boston to Concord. I could take the train to Boston and the bus for 90 minutes on to Concord. Also searched the bus left only two blocks from the Amtrak station, so wouldn’t have to go searching all over a strange city. Putting in different departure times and figuring in what wouldn’t be operating on the holiday.

The trip that caught my attention the most was the ‘Red Eye’ trip. One train would leave Metro Park in Iselin, NJ. (One of Amtraks top five ‘not terminal’ stations in terms of destinations) Saturday morning at 12:45 am, arriving in Boston at 7:00 am, the bus would leave Boston at 9:00 am, arriving at 10:30 in Concord. Then my brain thought. Almost ten hours to get there?” That seemed like a long time. So, I plugged in driving directions and times. Still would be seven hours. After a full day at work, then all night driving, I’d want to sleep all day Saturday instead of being with Charlene, which was my purpose of making the trip in the first place.

A check of flights wasn’t any brighter. There wasn’t any direct flights from Newark to Concord or Manchester, a larger city not far away. Each option was more expensive and involved long layovers in Boston and elsewhere.

So it’s back examining the Amtrak schedule. I pull up a version of the printed timetable for the Northeast corridor, the route that covers DC to Boston, and make some discoveries. Built into the schedule is a 90 minute layover in New York Penn Station, 40 minute layover in New Haven, CT and a 20 minute layover in Providence, RI. Two and a half hours of sitting in a train that isn’t going anywhere.

I change my itinerary to start at New York Penn Station but that doesn’t help. It’s overnight on a holiday weekend. So there is not another train coming by at that hour. Even if I left New York at 6:00 pm, I’d be waiting in Boston from midnight until 9:00 am for the bus anyway.

Greyhound wasn’t any better. A plane to Boston and bus to Concord wasn’t an option, I’d have to get from Logan Airport into the city and still be waiting for the bus. Amtrak was the best option.

Upon leaving work about 5:30, I text Charlene, she calls shortly before 6:00. I’m still on my way home.

“Would you really be interested in coming on Independence Day?”

“Yes,” I just let that sit there.

“You’d drive up alone?”

“I had thought about that, then searched some online before leaving work. Was looking into taking the train to Boston and the bus from there to Concord.”

“When would you come?”

“I would need you to pick me up from the bus in Concord at 10:30 Saturday morning, and bring me back there at 2:00 on Monday afternoon.”

“When will you get home leaving at 2:00 on Monday?”

“Well, the train leaves Boston at four and I’d be home about ten. I live a fifteen minute drive from the station.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad at all. What’s that going to cost?”

“About $150. Maybe not as cheap as driving but I wouldn’t be getting to you after driving all night after working all day.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

My mind is saying, ‘she still hasn’t said she wants you to come.’ So I’m just driving along with the corded ear piece in my ear, cruising south on the parkway.

“Well, think about it, pray about it, let me know what you think.”

“I’d like you to come but let me check on a few things first.” I can hear the grin on her face five states away.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m sharing this with you.”

“Oh, I appreciate this. I’ll let you know for sure tomorrow.”

“Take your time, take till next Monday if you want.”

“No, I’ll know tomorrow by this time tomorrow for sure.”

“OK, I’d probably wait until Friday to buy the tickets in any case.”

She giggles, “Let me guess…it’s payday.”

“Ding, ding, ding…the lady is a winner!” She makes me laugh, which in turn makes her laugh. We chat a bit until I reach home.

Once in the house, I share with my mom. “I may be going away for Independence Day weekend.”

“Oh, where are you going?”

“Was thinking of going to New Hampshire.”

“Is this with your new girlfriend?”

“Well, she’s not my girlfriend, and it’s with Charlene.”

“That’s a long drive.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m going by train.”

“You and your trains…how long is that going to take.”

“It’s seven hours to Boston and then an hour and a half on a bus.”

“What? Does she live in the middle of the woods or something? Does she have electricity and plumbing indoors?”

“She lives just outside of Concord, the state capital, she has electricity, running water, both hot and cold, all that good stuff.”

“Why not drive?”

“I’d be working all day, then driving all night. Don’t want to be doing that.”

“Ok, that makes sense, when will you be leaving? When will you be coming back?”

“The train doesn’t leave until midnight Friday night and I’d get back to Metro Park at 11 pm on Monday.”

“And you think you’ll be ok for work on Tuesday?”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem. I’ll be napping on the train.”

We keep going over some of the details and she warms up to the idea, eventually. After dinner I keep plugging different travel options into the Yahoo search, but the Red Eye train and bus plan is looking like the best option. Charlene and I are also texting back and forth some. I look up historical weather data on Concord, for Independence Day. The trend has an average between 80 and 90 degrees, which is kind of what I’d expected, a bit cooler than my home, accounting for the higher altitude and latitude.

The next day, June 22nd, she sends me an email that I see at lunch. “Everything is looking good for next weekend, if you still want to come, we’ll be very happy to host you.” That’s all good news.

One of my co-workers ask what I was doing for the holiday weekend. I shared for the first time, except with my mother. “I’m planning on going to New Hampshire for the weekend.”

“That’s great! What are you doing there?”

“My friend invited me up. Looks like I’m taking the train early Saturday morning and will come back at 11 on Monday night.”

She was excited for me, except for Steve, the boss, all my other co-workers were female. I also was the only single employee there.

I told my church friends Wednesday night, Christine teased me mercilessly, asking me how many condoms I was bringing with me. I knew she was only joking. So we all had a good laugh.

Friday morning came, when I got to work, I IM’d Charlene. ‘I’m just about to buy the tickets. Are you 100% sure you want me to come?’

While waiting for her reply, I logged onto the Amtrak website and pulled up the saved itinerary. I was quite anxious concerning her answer, having my debit card in my hand and ready to punch in the digits.

“Oh, yes. When are you getting the tickets?” She finally sends, after what seemed like forever ago.

I press confirm on the Amtrak site and in a moment or two I get a receipt in my email inbox, which I forward to her. The printer spits out my tickets/boarding passes and it’s a done deal. 

I get back to work, while my mind counts down the hours to next Friday night. I also don’t mention to anybody it’s my birthday. There is no reason to celebrate one’s 35th, I keep telling myself.

The next day my mom takes me out for my birthday, which leads to the ‘Original Happy Story’ event of running into Nicole at the boardwalk at Keansburg.

When I shared with Charlene this good news, with the photos, she seemed like she found this odd. We had talked previously about my two kids and that I was wanting to reunite with them and was asking the Lord to bring it when He thought the time was right. I didn’t consider this an obstacle to my developing relationship with her. I was still going to New Hampshire the next weekend. There was no indication that she didn’t’ want me to come. She asked about if I had any food allergies or preferences. So we were still a go.

As the next week progressed, the final touches were being put into place. I had picked out what clothes I was bringing. My mother was lending me a small suitcase. The only issue I had was how to bring my uniform hat? I really wanted to wear it and had even considered UPSing it to Charlene with my luggage but she said nobody ever wore it in the summer time. She even suggested that I not even bring my Jacket/tunic but I had it dry cleaned especially for the trip. So it was coming and didn’t UPS anything and would leave the cap in Jersey.

FRIDAY, JULY 2, 2004

The day started like most others, with the 5:15 alarm waking me up. I had WiFi in my home since the previous fall. A regular breakfast was me sitting at the dining room table with my laptop just beyond the bowl of cereal with Dr. Creflo Dollar on the TV in the corner. I checked on Amtrak. The 10:00 pm Red Eye from Washington to Boston was a daily train. Thursdays was still on its way, having left on time again. Had been checking on it all week.

By six I was shaving and showering. By seven I’m walking out the door. While driving to work, my mind reviewed the plan of the day: work till 5:30 or so, staying as long as possible, cause there was bound to be a whole lot of extra traffic bound for the shore on this getaway day for the holiday weekend. Come home, pack, go to bed until 11, then jump into the shower, leave the house by 12:20, drive to Metropark Station, park in the parking deck and be on the platform long before the scheduled 12:45 train arrival.

Thursday was a HUGE day at work. There was literally thousands of garments that were all lined up waiting for the calendar to turn July, which would open up the shipping window. Maybe 400 shipments had been loaded onto the specially ordered UPS truck. I know that the boss is very happy to see 400 bills be sent into the mail.

There wasn’t a whole lot of chit chat going on, everyone was busy, but we already had been talking about the holiday weekend. After UPS left at about 3:30, I finally sat down for lunch. Charlene had sent a few messages and now the replies were sent. It seemed that she was equally as excited as myself, if not more so. This is when the boss came into the warehouse.

“How many shipments went out today?”

I check the report. “One hundred and seventy two, two hundred and eleven boxes.”

“That’s great. This is how I like it!” He beams from ear to ear, wouldn’t be surprised if he did a little dance. Then he asked, “Are you already for your big trip?”

“Yea, everything is looking good. I’m excited.”

“Hey, do you need to leave early? Get ahead of traffic?”

“Actually just the opposite. I’d want to stay as long as you let me. I’m not getting on the trail until midnight.”

“Really, wow. How long does it take to get to New Hampshire?”

“Well, the train gets to Boston at 7 and then it’s another hour-and-a-half on a bus to Concord.”

“That’s a long ride.”

“Yea, but won’t be driving. Hopefully I’ll be dozing.”

“That’s a good thing but still let’s wrap things up.” He looks at his watch. “Let’s see if we can get out by four. Twenty minutes.”

“Ok, sure, we can do this,” I wolf down the rest of my lunch. I message Charlene that I was closing the shop down for the weekend and would text her when I’m in the car. This is a big switch, usually she leaves work long before I do.

I run my daily and weekly reports, which only takes a few minutes. I address a few odds and ends. Then lock up the back doors and hit the lights. By the time I get to the office, everyone is gone except the boss, who’s standing by the front door with the keys in his hand.

“Ya think everyone was a big anxious to get going?

He laughs, “Isn’t everyone on a Friday…Holiday or not.”

“Can’t argue about that I guess.”

“Enjoy your trip,” he says as we walk out.

Once in the car, I turn on the news radio station, hoping to catch the traffic report. There were a few ways to go home, but if the Parkway wasn’t yet jammed, it would be the fastest. Testing Charlene, my trip begins.

Once on the road, came to the conclusion that everyone who could get a jump on their weekend had done so already. Everyone else wouldn’t until 5:00 or so. Fifteen minutes into the trip, my phone rings. Hoping it was Charlene but was let down, it was Major Navarro.

“How are you, sir?”

“I’m fine, thank you. When you come to the corps tonight could you pick up some things at Staples on the way?”

This wasn’t part of my plan. I was hoping to be sleeping in another hour or so. “Ok, I won’t be staying long. I’ve got to get ready for my trip.”

“Oh, yes, I understand and thank you.” I’ve picked up lots of things at Staples and had the church’s credit card in the glove box just for this purpose. The store was in Woodbridge, was on my way home, if I went via the Garden State Parkway. Good thing the radio traffic report didn’t mention any incidents on it.

It was relatively smooth cruising on Route 24 to I78 and onto the parkway. There was a joke going around about naming it the parkway because during the rush hour it resembled a parking lot. The traffic flowed like midday and nothing like I expected. Got to Staples without any issues. The copies and supplies were all ready to go, which wasn’t always the case. Pushing the shopping cart to the Subaru, my thoughts were, ‘I hope the whole weekend goes this smoothly!’.

In another 20 minutes I’m unloading the car at the church and helping to put the supplies away. Usually on Friday evenings, bible study would be held at the corps but there was a summer tradition where different families would host them. I’d been so far successful in keeping it out of our house, but my mom wouldn’t be held back this year. She was determined to do so this season.

“Could you please bring some people to Mr. Pegron’s house in your car?” My belly said, “Oh, Mr. Pegron’s house….he runs a catering business….he’s gonna have some good food there.”

“Sure, sir, not a problem,” I say with a smile. My hopes of rushing out of there didn’t materialize. People who were waiting for a ride weren’t prepared for it, which I found quite strange.

Mr. Pegron’s house was in the old section of town and was fairly large. His, like many of his neighbors, probably had perhaps 4 bedrooms but one bathroom, which wasn’t in the original designer’s thoughts a century before.

We get there and end up helping to set things up. The food didn’t show up until after the bible study began, so ended up staying until 8:00 pm and then drove people home. My plans for a nap went out the window. I did get to share some about my trip plans. The young adults (which is the official terms for those 14-24 in the church) were excited to hear about going on an overnight train trip to Boston. One had mentioned that she remembered her music teacher mentioned about the Boston Pops annual fourth of July concert outside at the Boston Commons, accompanied by fireworks. Then I mentioned that I wouldn’t be in Boston but Concord, New Hampshire for the holiday itself. I pledged to keep them updated on the trip via text messages. Most of them had never been far from home and reacted as if I was talking about going to China or to Mars, which was kind of sad.

I got home, eventually, only to discover that my mom had a list of things she needed me to do before I left for the weekend. Mostly I was disappointed in myself for not anticipating this. These tasks got done and at 10:00 got into the shower after shaving, which wasn’t necessary after only 15 hours, but wasn’t sure when I would be doing so again, probably not until Sunday morning. By 10:30 I’m all packed up and the only thing that needs to be done in the next two hours is get dressed.

In my good old bath robe, I pop open the laptop and check on the status of the train, only to discover it hasn’t yet left Washington! It should have been in Baltimore by now! I call the automated toll free number and I get the message. “…but trains can make up time en-route…” That doesn’t make any sense if the train hasn’t left its origin yet. Now what am I to do? There wasn’t any issues on this train all week, why now? I keep myself distracted by printing maps and riving directions as a backup. My calculations of the two hour window between the scheduled trains arrival in Boston and the buses departure had, in my mind, developed the conclusion of…”If the train doesn’t leave Washington by midnight, two hours behind schedule, then plan B was to drive.” Even if the train made up time en-route as the recording said the next bus from Boston to Concord wasn’t till 1 pm, which would get me to Concord at 2:30, not part of my plan. I scoured the Amtrak website to find out how and if a refund would happen. I found that I could get ‘credit for future travel’ but no refund.

My bag was in the car and even the uniform cap. Went so far as checking out the tire air pressure with a flashlight. At 11:30, its status had not changed. It was now an hour and a half late leaving its origin. A check of weather didn’t show any storms between Jersey and DC. A peek at two train geeks news sites didn’t garner any info of any possible incidents on any tracks in the east coast. No DC news outlet reported any incident at Union Station. The only thing that came to mind was a mechanical issue. I set up the coffee maker, with the idea that I would be taking some with me. That’s when the clock on the microwave oven read 12:00. Ok, time for one last check. If it hadn’t started its trip, then I’d turn on the coffee.

Back in my bedroom, I hit refresh on the web browser. The train had finally started rolling at 11:50, almost two hours late. By now my brain was in driving mode, but the train was now on its way, and before its Charlie imposed deadline. I make a final visit to the bathroom and think for a moment. “Ok the train is coming. I’ll get on it, no driving.”

I write a not for mom, ‘the coffee make is all set up, all you have to do is turn it on.’

A call to the toll free number confirms that the train is on its way, accompanied by the same recording “…but trains can make up time en-route…”

By 12:30, the train is in Baltimore, that’s a good sign. That’s when I decide to shut down and pack up the laptop. Even if, I was waiting at Metropark Station, I would be on my way.

When finally sitting in the car, I peek at my watch, 12:45. I should be boarding the train right now, instead I’m just leaving home. A bit disappointed. Pulling out, it was good to be finally on my way. Still driving slow, got over an hour to make the 10 minute drive. Making a pit stop at the Quick Check for a bag of Chex Mix and some mints. I won’t be able to brush my teeth before getting off the bus.

I go on to the station and pull onto the parking deck. 95% of the spots are empty, so I back into a corner one. So its easy to find Monday night. I also take a picture of the spot number with my license plate also in the frame, just in case and now I don’t have to remember the spot number. I also picked a spot to allow a quick egress.

Double checking the rules, parking is free on weekends and holidays, so we’re good there. It was more convenient than calling a cab, which was a consideration.

Now it’s 1:15 am, the waiting room, with its ticket counter and waiting room were closed, so it’s right up onto the track 1 platform. Just before I set the suitcase down next to the bench, the handle breaks. Dammit to hell, this sucked royally! I could go home but what would I use as a replacement? I knew better than to wake up my mom at 1:30 and tell her I broke her suitcase and needed to borrow a second one.

Not like the case itself was damaged and leaking my clothes all over the place. It wasn’t heavy nor big and carrying it under my arm was a possibility, albeit uncomfortable. So I just sat down. That’s when I saw her walking up and down the platform, with occasional glimpses down the track.

“Are you waiting for the Amtrak or NJ Transit train?” I asked.

“The Amtrak,” she says, “It was supposed to be here more than half an hour ago.”

“Sit and relax some, it left Washington almost two hours late…but it’s on its way.”

She’s taken aback. “Two hours late. When will it get here?”

“Maybe 2:30ish.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, that’s just a guess.”

“How do you know this?”

“It’s on the website.” I then point to the pay phone. “Call 1-800-USA-RAIL. See where it is now.” Was my suggestion.

She was flabbergasted. I go to the phone and call, going through the menus. Eventually I get the message. ‘the train has left Wilmington Station at 1:22 am.’ This was followed by the ‘but trains can makeup time en-route.’ I give the receiver to the frantic woman to listen to as it repeats itself.

“How far away is Wilmington? How long until it gets here? When will it get me to Providence? What does ‘trains make up time en-route’ supposed to mean?” She was less happy now than before I made the call when she thought the train was half an hour late.

“Wilmington is in Delaware, so it still has to go through Philly and Trenton and Princeton to get here.” 

“When will it get here?” She screams.

My mind tries to come up with an answer that will calm her down. I look at my watch…stalling for time as my head churns. My shoulders shrug, “Maybe an hour, hour and a quarter. Let’s say 2:15 to 2:30.”

She looks at her own watch but breathes in some relief. She then does some thinking of her own, “What time will we get to Providence?”

“If they cut short the layovers in New York and New Haven, we won’t be far behind schedule after that.”

“My father is going to pick me up at the station at 5:40…What am I going to do?”

“When do you think he’ll be leaving home to drive to the station?” She has no idea what I’m saying.

“He’s driving to the station to pick you up, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When will he leave home to drive to the station in order to get there at 5:40?”

She thinks a minute. “Ah…maybe 5:15 or 5:20.”

“Ok, find me at 5:00, I’ll let you use my cell phone, and you can update him on your updated arrival time. Maybe the conductors will know better once we’re on board.”

She thinks about that for a moment, “Oh, ok, beats calling him now.”

“Once we leave New London, find me. Or better yet, Mystic. We’ll be closer and have a better idea on our ETA.” I try to give her a reassuring smile. “Hey, want some ChexMix?”

“No, no thanks.” She sits on the bench next to me.

“What are you doing in Providence?”

“Well, I’m going to my aunt’s funeral actually.”

“I am very sorry,” then I notice the cross around her neck, “can we pray for her?”

She closes her eyes and silently nods her head a few times. 

“Dear Lord, God and Father, we come to you tonight with heavy hearts. We lieft up to you…um…my new friend, and her whole family who is now mourning the loss of her aunt, who is now at rest at home with you. Your word tells us to rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. So I’m asking you provide her whole family with a double portion of your comforting Holy Spirit, to be with them during this trying period and beyond. We ask this all in Jesus name, Amen.”

“Amen,” she says. She keeps her eyes closed and leans further back on the bench. “thank you. I needed all that. What variety of ChexMix did you say you had?”

I have to pull the bag out of my laptop bag. “Um…turtle…with the chocolate drizzle on it. I open up the bag and give it a shake, want some?”

Now she opens her eyes, “Yeah, sure, why not,” and plunges her hand in.

We chitchat a bit and call back the 800 number about 2:00. Oh, the train has left Trenton already. It’s in New Jersey at least.”

Not long after this two New Jersey Transit trains come and stop. The first on the far side, headed from New York toward Trenton. Then one right on our track. The NJ Transit conductor looks at us.

I say, “We’re waiting for the Amtrak.”

He looks at us and looks at his watch, “That ain’t coming until 8 am!”

“No, the one that was supposed to leave Washington at 10 and be here at 12:45 didn’t leave DC till almost midnight almost two hours late.”

He picks up the corded mike for his radio, “What’s the status of the East Bound Amtrak?”

In a moment the radio crackles back. “It’s almost to New Brunswick. Metropark in fifteen minutes.” The conductor looks surprised that we’re better informed than he is.

My new friend says, “You need to have a status board here or maybe make some announcements. We’ve being waiting this whole time with nothing.”

“Tell the Governor to put it in the budget,” he says smartly as he climbs back onto his train and the door closes. Then the train pulls away.

We look at each other, then at our watches. The train will be here soon, maybe about 2:20. We do some mental math, from two hours late to one hour and thirty-five minutes late. “Guess that’s what they mean with the whole ‘make up time enroute’ thing.”

“Yeah,” she says, “that’s a start.”

“If they cut down the 90 minute layover in New York, then we’ll be back on track!”

“Hey, a train joke. Be back on track!” she must be very tired because she laughs so hard she has to stop and take a breath.

I get up and stretch my legs some and look down the track. “I think I see it,” as I shade my eyes with my hand.

She jumps up and peers down the track too. There is a light that can be seen down the straight away. 

“How far is it do you think?”

My brain thinks, I’ve been on these tracks latterly hundreds of times but never cataloged it’s curves before. “If I were to guess, between Edison and Metuchen stations, less than ten miles.”

“It’s about damn time.” She shouts into the nothingness then she laughs at herself. “I’ve had a crazy couples of days,” she continues to stare down the track. 

“It’s like the light at the end of the tunnel…except the tunnel part.” I say as I grab my laptop bag and broken suitcase, pulling the printed ticket from the pocket on the outside of the laptop bag. Setting the bags down just before the yellow safety stripe covering the last three feet of the platform.

The light on the front of the train kept coming closer, before long the train itself comes into the lights of the station and we hear the clanging of the bell, as the slowing locomotive passes where we are standing. The train comes to ta complete halt and a door is only steps away. The conductor can be seen in the window. I also look up and down the platform, we’re the only ones there. My watch says 2:20 am. The door slides open and the conductor steps out, wearing his funny round hat. He looks at us and doesn’t have to say anything, we just walk over. She hands over her ticket, he examines it, then punches it with his hole puncher. 

“When will we get to Providence?” she asks.

“Ask me again when we leave New York.” She nods and boards the train.

Next I hand over my ticket. “What was the delay in Washington?”

“Oh, they had to replace the engine, can’t believe it took almost two hours.” He punches and returns my ticket. Then I step aboard.

Once on the train I turn to the left to look down the car. It’s mostly empty. Going down the aisle, the train begins to move. Picking up my broken bag, it sets put up on the overhead rack, on top of two empty seats. My Providence bound friend in the seats in front of me. I lean over the back of her seat, “If you need anything, I’m right here behind you.”

She looks up. “Thanks again.”

Settling into the window seat, on the right side of the forward moving train, first thing is lean my seat back, there is no one behind me. The conductor puts a seat check over my seat. Pulling the tray table down, then pulling my laptop out. The plug at my seat works, thankfully. While waiting for the computer to boot up, the remaining half a bag of ChexMix and a bottle of water go onto the seat next to me.

Popping the WiFi card into the side of the unit, nope, no signal on this train. Had read that Amtrak was rolling the service out but it’s not with us today. I start up my favorite game, Age of Empires, and kick off my shoes as I unwind some. The thoughts of sleep come but don’t want to miss leaving New York and the conductor’s estimate of our arrival.

Before getting too settled, we’re pulling into Newark Penn Station and just as suddenly we’re in motion again. Yawns start invading me. My brain begins to calculate some, I woke up 21 hours ago, had a full day at work, then quite a bit of stress between 10:30 and midnight. Then a period of anxiety from midnight until finally boarding the train at 2:20. Now sleepiness is catching up.

Next we enter the tunnel that will take us under the Hudson River and into New York Penn Station. Being there is no traffic, we are just zipping along. The dark nothingness out of the windows gives way to lights revealing the platforms. A look at my watch shows 2:40 on the dial. One hour and forty minutes late. We stop and a few carmates shuffle off. It seems like only two minutes later three new people come down the aisle and find seats. Still no one is behind me. There’s not anyone on the other side of me either. It’s empty in the wee hours, deep under the street of Manhattan.

Are we really going to stay the whole 90 minutes here that’s on the schedule? The anxiousness to get going can be smelt and tasted in the air. Our wishes all came true, as we hear the doors swoosh closed. My eyes turn to the window and the platform goes backward, or so it looks. I peek at the watch, we were only here for 20 minutes. That sounds good to me.

The conductor works his way down the aisle, checking seat checks. He comes to my neighbor.

“Sir, you told me to ask you about Providence when we left New York.” She sounds almost desperate.

“Right,” he says, and pulls out a vinyl card from his jacket pocket. Then we checks his watch. Flips the card over and runs his finger down it. “We’ll get to Providence about 6:00, about 20 minutes late.”

“Thanks,” she says and stands up.

“How about Boston?” I get out before he returns the card to his pocket.

“Just about 7:00, right on time.”

“Thank you.” Then I turn my head, my friend is now kneeling on her seat with her hands on top of the headrest and looking over it to me.

“Now only 20 minutes late. That’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, you can still use my phone if you want later.”

“I’ll do that, thanks.” Her face scrunches up a bit. “Now I’m afraid to fall asleep, what if I miss my stop? Will the conductor wake me up?”

“I’ll set my alarm for 5:00 and I’ll wake you up.”

“Ummm…ok…I guess. Hey where is the bathroom?”

I poke my head around. “They’re at the back.”

“Oh, thanks,” and she heads off.

I shut down the computer and pack everything up, after grabbing another handful of chexmix. When she comes back, I head to the bathroom myself.

Returning to my seat, I take one last peek out the window. I have no clue where we are. Did we cross into the Bronx? Could we be in West Chester already? These are the thoughts that pass through my head as I drift off to sleep.

My eyes crack open. My head wedged between the headrest of the seat and the window. It takes a moment to come to terms with the situation. One the train, going to New Hampshire via Boston. My eyes begin to focus. Out the window the sky is lightening up slightly. The ground is still dark, but after another moment I can tell that the ground isn’t all ground. Some of it is water. Oh, that’s Long Island Sound. Ok, we’re somewhere in Connecticut. No idea where, no idea how fast. Have we made up time enroute?

A peek at the old watch shows that it’s almost 5. Slept two plus hours. Maybe I’ll sleep some more later? Sitting up and stretching my head a bit, looking around, no conductor in sight. Shuffling the old legs and feet. Oh yeah, I took my shoes off before dozing off. They slide on and get tied up. Another glance out the window. The sky is brighter but the sun is still below the horizon. Taking a moment to take in the tablot. There is only a few high wispy clouds, very few. Can see some waves on the sound, more like can see their shadows on the water.

In any case, my silly self is 200 miles or so closer to Charlene. Is that the goal? We just met three weeks ago. Now I’m flying at 100 miles an hour through the New England coast to see her. Not like we’re eloping or anything like that. That may qualify as insane. Maybe I was just lonely. Haven’t been in a real relationship since Christine and I split up in 1998.

What is it I’m looking for, not only on this trip but overall? This is the question that I must answer for myself. It seems that over the past six or seven years or so, every long term life goal that I make gets dashed to pieces by the harsh reality that gets dumped upon me.

Since Nicole was born, I pledged to focus on doing right, for her sake, if now my own. But I’ve only seen her one time in the last five years and that was not the result of any human planning. There also out there, somewhere, was my Justin, whom I haven’t seen since 1993 and that was only a passing glance via a car window. Haven’t hugged him in 12 years.

What efforts have I made to get together with either of them? If my chief complaint is my job takes all my energy and the commute eats up all my time and money….am I accomplishing anything? This is too much thinking before coffee. 

The phone’s alarm brings me back to the present. It not only woke up my friend but several other of our neighbors. Ooops!

She shakes her head some and peeks over her seat at me. “That alarm is LOUD!”

I blush from embarrassment, “Yeah, sorry about that,” as I hand her the phone. Standing up and bringing full circulation to my legs and feet for the first time in more than three hours, most of that sleeping.

“Dad, it’s me. I’m borrowing someone’s phone. The train is running late. Won’t get to Providence until about six…”

I take a stroll down the aisle to the bathroom. Had to wait a moment for it to be exited by someone who I probably woke up with my phone’s five AM alarm. That’s what I assume, based on the scowl she shot me upon exiting. 

When returning to my seat, she hands me the phone. “Thanks again.” She rubs some sleep from her eyes.

“How’s Dad?” Is all I can think of saying.

“He was actually relieved that I was going to be late. He now has an extra twenty minutes before he’s gotta leave.”

“Oh, ok. You want some coffee or something?” And I point in the direction I hope the café car is in.

Before she has a chance to answer, the door opens and the conductor walks in the car shouting, “New London, New London next station stop. New London.” Did he shout like that when we got to Bridgeport or New Haven? How could I have slept through that? Going back into my seat to allow the conductor to pass, as he checked the seat checks that were mounted to the rail of the overhead luggage rack. The train begins to slow.

Looking out of the window, not 200 yards from the track is the beach. It was very pleasant to see the sun begin to peek over the horizon, which was all water as far as could be seen, lightening up all of the surface of the Earth, land and sea. Just took a moment to take in the vista. As we came into the station, there were two large boats with gangways going from the beach onto their decks. This was a curious sight.

One neighbor asked, “What are those boats there?”

To which another said, “Those are the Block Island Ferries. They’ll meet most trains here.”

The first asked another question. “What’s on Block Island?”

“Oh, it’s a resort, kinda like Marth’s Vineyard but it’s part of Rhode Island. It’s not as haughty-taughty or expensive as Martha’s Vineyard though.”

“Oh, okay.”

Then he added, “If you look to the other side, you’ll see the buses that will take you to Foxwoods or Mohawken Sun Casinos.” Me, like everyone else, turned to peek out the windows on the left side. Sure enough, there were buses there, wrapped in advertising for each of the Indian gaming resorts.

Nobody entered or exited our car. There was no one that needed to pass through the aisle, so I got back up took two steps and looked at my friend. “Coffee?”

“Ah, could you get me some tea, with one of those packages of lemon?”

“Packages of lemon?” I asked.

“Yeah, they look like ketchup packs but they’re lemon. They’ll have them there, they usually do.”

“Ah, okay.” I smile and walk forward.

The car forward of ours was identical. Few people were stirring. Out of the window, in the vestibule of the car, I see that we’re crossing over the Thames River. The next car forward was indeed the café car. There were a few seats and tables on one side, and what looked like a bar or old fashioned lunch counter with floor mounted stools on the other. Those that sat there faced the wall, with their backs toward the central aisle, where there were maybe half a dozen people in line.

There was only one guy working the counter. He had to pour the drinks, take the orders and take the money. No wonder things were slow. My eyes look to the menu board. The prices were quite high! Six dollars for a 10 oz cup of coffee? The food prices were also outrageous. Two dollars for a bag of M&Ms that would cost one in most convenience stores.

As I moved closer to the register, there was a basket with saran wrapped bagels with cream cheese, with a sign that said $4.00. That would be nice, at least different than the Chexmix, who’s bag was getting empty.

After what seemed like an exceedingly long period of time, I work my way back to my seat with two coffees (both for me), one tea (with two lemon packets), one bagel and almost $25 lighter in my wallet to offset the weight carried in the card board tray.

Coming to the door at the end of the car, I noticed that at the bottom of it was a large black button that said, “Press” on it. Identical to the one about four feet above the floor. This I thought was cleaver, you could open the door by kicking it, in case your hands are full.

Getting back to our car, the conductor was coming forward from the far side, “Mystic, Mystic, next station stop, Mystic Connecticut.”

I give my friend the tea and the lemon and offer half a bagel but she passes on it. Sipping the bad coffee and fighting with the saran wrap, took us to and through Mystic. We were further inland now but I could see the masts of the tall ships in the distance. Couldn’t remember which building was the aquarium. It took some time to calculate but eventually I came to the conclusion that the last time I was here was 1987. While I was a senior in high school, not long before I left for the Army.

In motion again, the bagel gets eaten quickly, after the first bit, I chose to forgo tasting the rest. The laptop gets booted again and I compose some of what will be the blog post of this adventure. Another check, nope still no Wifi. Typing keeps me distracted for a while until a voice calls from the seat in front.

“I want to thank you again for everything.”

“You are welcome,” I peek at my watch. It’s almost six. “Say hi to your dad for me.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll do that.” She thinks for a moment before continuing, “I’ll have a story to tell everyone at the funeral.”

“Yeah, a funny thing happened to me on the way to a funeral. I met this guy on a train platform, in the middle of the night, in New Jersey.”

She smiles as the conductor comes in announcing Providence station. He stops at her seat, pulls her seat check. “Providence next stop.”

She looks at her watch. “Six o’clock, just like you said. And thanks.” The conductor smiles and nods, then continues down the aisle.

The train begins to slow. “Oh, gotta go, thanks again.” And then she’s gone. Then I laugh at myself. Never even got her name.

The train stops and starts again. I look out the window. Somewhere in this town I got some cousins. My father’s aunt lived here and her family. Last time I’ve seen them was a wedding in 1981. That was a long time ago. Sometimes I would like to look them up but most of the time I don’t even think about it. Haven’t had any extended family in so long…

The conductor comes back through. I stop him and ask, “When do you think we’ll get to Boston South Station?”

He looks at his watch for a moment. “We should be there just after seven.”

“Really, that’s great, considering you started out almost two hours late.”

“Well, that’s why lose layovers are built into the schedule.” He smiles.

“Thank you. I’d still rather go on Amtrak than fly. Especially in the North East Corridor.”

“I hear that several times a day, everyday.” He laughs a full belly laugh as he walks down the aisle checking seat checks. This makes me chuckle too.

Getting back to typing but soon it gives way to a game. My belly starts asking for real food. Checking the time, got some time to go still. I am assuming there will be someplace there to get something to eat. Even on a Saturday morning on a holiday weekend.

In Washington, they converted Union Station into what some consider a shopping mall. Several eateries are there, including a Johnny Rocket’s. Should have looked that up online before hand. Lesson learned. Between the train station, the bus station and the two blocks between, there’s gotta be something.

We continue zipping along, passing by local commuter stations. Must be in the Bay state. A peek at the clock, twenty more minutes. After the stop at Route 128, the laptop gets packed up. Then the thought occurs to me, better visit the bathroom now, it will be easier to do so here than at the station while carrying the broken suitcase.

After the head call, and a fill up of the water bottle, we pull into Back Bay Station. Only a few more minutes to go. Pulling down the case from the overhead rack, I also pull my own seat check and put it into the pocket of my laptop bag. Checking that the bus ticket and my return tickets were there. Check, check.

The PA system comes on for the first time that I know of. “Now arriving Boston South Station. Please check around your area for your personal belongings. Take small children by the hand.” They go on and on making no mention of leaving Washington almost two hours late. No thank you for your patience, no offer to compensate such as meal vouchers or discounts for future travel. Maybe I could make a stink about it? A peek of my watch shows it’s seven on the button. Looking out the window shows there are many parallel pairs of tracks, each four feet, eight and a half inches a apart. Just when I’m about to say, “we gotta be almost here,” we pull into the station. Not too shabby!

Standing up, slinging the laptop bag over my head and shoulder, and grab the suitcase by putting one hand on each face of it. The train stops and I hit the aisle, anxious to get off the train. Wonder if I’m the ‘senior’ guy int eh car, been on here the longest. Was kinda tempted to ask but didn’t.

Exiting onto the platform, and turning to the left, looking around it reminds me of the Haupt Bonhoff (Main train station) in Frankfurt, Germany. A large arches ceiling, covering twenty tracks, side by side. Could imagine this place filled with steam locomotives. I follow the crowd toward the front of the train. Here is a line of ticket booths, newsstands, eateries and waiting rooms and restrooms. Thankfully there was more than one eatery open.

Walking toward it my eyes scan the options on the menu board, especially the breakfast platters. There was one with pancakes, scrambled eggs and sausage patty right on top of the list. Was so enthralled with that option that reading the rest was just something to do while waiting in the line. The platter with a large coffee was less expensive than that mess on board the train. Gotta keep that in mind for Monday!

Had a hard time carrying the tray and the suitcase. The breakfast hit the spot! With one eye on my watch, each bite was enjoyed. While nursing the coffee, I look around. The tables are in the main hall of the station, the trains are all visible and pointing toward us. It’s a bit cavernous space. One thing catches my eye, a sign noting this is a ‘Free WiFi Zone’!

The breakfast tray gets slid away and the laptop gets booted up with the WiFi card in, the signal gets picked up right away. The notice page states that you get only one free hour per day, which is just fine for me, my silly self won’t be sitting here in another hour in any case.

The first thing done is use the computer to send group test messages. “In Boston after a delayed train ride. Leaving for Concord, NH on a bus at 9:00.” Sent this to Charlene and the ‘young people’ back home. On the Verizon website, it was default setting that each person got an individual message.

I also pulled up info on the station. Come to find out that it’s possible to get to the bus station without even going outside. You can walk around the track 1 platform right into the bus depot. Still sore that I didn’t look that up early on, before the trip. Updating my blog and checking email, this was very handy.

Text replies were coming in on my phone. I’d answer them on the bus or at least while waiting for the bus. As long as, the coffee cup kept coming to my lips, even once it was empty, I’d be ok. The police were keeping people moving along. 

At 8:15, after about an hour, I pack up the laptop even before my time ran out. Busing my own table, and carrying my bags, I considered getting another cup of coffee but decided against it.

At the far end of the station there is a sign pointing to the bus station. This made things easier. It was only a short walk up a ramp and into the station. The next task was to find the right gate to line up at. The company was a regional carrier, and neither Greyhound or Trailways. There was a status screen, showing departures. The screen told me that I needed to find gate 25.

Looking around, it’s easy to follow the numbers. Coming around the corner, there was already 20 people cued up at gate 25. More than half an hour before the bus is due to leave. Good thing to be early. Coming up to the end of the line, I question the older man at the end.

“Excuse me sir, is this the bus to Concord?”

“Na….this bus goes to Manchester and Can-card,” and shoots me a dirty look. Good thing I’m not wearing any Yankee’s gear. No telling what this mean old man would do to me. Once he’s turned around, I snicker silently.

Putting the broken bag between my legs, the candybar phone comes from my pocket. Time to call mom.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, hi. I’m drinking your coffee right now.”

“That’s great.”

“Why did you set up the coffee maker?”

“Well, the train was very late. I almost caved in and drove.”

“What happened?”

“The conductor said they needed to replace the engine, took almost two hours. It was supposed to leave Washington at ten, didn’t leave till 11:50.”

“Oh, dear. You waited at metropark two hours?”

“No…saw online that it was late. The plan was to wait till midnight and if it still hadn’t left DC, would ten end up driving. That’s why I set up the coffee pot.”

“Oh. Ok. That makes sense. You should have just canceled the trip then.”

“At midnight made one last check and the train had just left Union station.”

“But if it was two hours late leaving, how are you in Boston already? Did you miss your bus?”

“Instead of making the scheduled layovers, it made stop and go stops.”

“What does that mean?”

“The schedule had a 90 minute layover in New York but we were only there for 20 minutes.”

“Oh, ok, how late were you in Boston?”

“Less than five minutes.”

“Then you didn’t miss your bus.”

“No, got here in plenty of time for a nice breakfast. Now I’m in line for the bus. Ain’t leaving here for another 20 minutes or so.”

“That’s good. Hope it’s not two hours late too.”

“That would be bad. Oh, one bit of bad news.”

“Oh, no, what’s that?”

“Your suitcase broke.”

“How id you break my suitcase? I’ve had it since before you were born.”

That made a lot of sense. Who keeps a suitcase for more than 35 years? “The handle broke, I’ll get you a new one.”

“I’ll pick out my own suitcase. Thank you very much and you’re gonna pay for it!”

“Sure thing, Ma.” This is when I see a young skinny guy, wearing an odd tshirt. It said, “Prof Traveling Evangelist” on the front and back in giant letters. What in his name is this? This is also when the bus pulled up to the gate, which got everyone in the growing line stirring. Was there enough seats on this bus? I had a ticket and a reservation. The next bus wasn’t for hours.

“Hey, ma. I’m gonna go now. The bus is here. I’ll call you tonight.”

“You better!” She was still angry. I could hear her scowl.

“Bye, Mom.” And I ended the call. Didn’t need any of this crap. Maybe should have waited to mention about the suitcase…

With the bus at the gate, the line grows even longer. This could be trouble, but thankfully there is only 20 or so people in front of me. Not long after this, a uniformed clerk comes to the gate with a clipboard and goes through the portal to the bus. A minute or two after this, she comes back, opens and latches the door. The first person in line hands her their ticket. This is a good sign.

Kicking my broken bag, as the line moves forward, some relaxation comes over me. Maybe the experience of waiting for the train shook me deeply? This is too much anxiety over one late train. A good night’s sleep will clear this from my head. When getting to the head of the line, my ticket is in hand.  

“Welcome to XYZ,” she said as the ticket got handed over. She looks at the ticket, then went down her clipboard, found my name and checked it with per pen. “Welcome aboard,” she said as she handed me back the ticket, in the voice of someone who said those exact same words a thousand times yesterday, and will do so again today.

Taking the ticket, then picking up the broken suitcase with both hands, passing through the gate. One the side of the bus itself was someone putting bags in the cargo compartments under the bus. Carrying mine over he asks, “Manchester or Can-card?”

Guess it’s time to hear and speak like a New Englander. “Can-card please.” When in Rome….

He grabs the case by its broken handle before looking closely. Once he realizes it’s broke, the look on his face was one that telegraphed his brain was coming up with an apology for the damage. But I cut him off. “Don’t worry about that, it broke in New Jersey.” Don’t need to elaborate, all he cares about is he’s off the hook for it. The bag goes into the bin. Then I climb onboard.

Found an empty window seat on the right side and put the laptop bag under my legs. It’s highly doubtful that the seat next to me will be empty. Settling in but not leaning back, my mind tries to relax some, hoping for another hour of sleep, knowing that my stop is the end of the line. There is no worry of sleeping through it.

Prepping the next group text message. “On bus leaving Boston on time. Due in Concord, MH at 10:30.” Once we are rolling the ‘send’ button will be pressed.

The bus fills up and an older woman sits next to me. I nod and say hello, she nods in return. Then leans her seat back and pulls a sleeping mask from her pocket. This goes over her head. I’ll give her credit, she had a plan and the resources to make it happen!

Then the clipboard lady climbs on board and stands at the front of the aisle. “Could I please have every bodies attention for a moment. We have a slight problem, we are overbooked. We’re looking for one person who is willing to give up their seat. They can sit on the floor, and they’ll get a coupon for half off their next trip with us!” She said in her most pleasant salesperson’s voice. If my brain wasn’t in its hope for sleep mode, this offer would have been processed faster but that wasn’t necessary.

“Oh, that’s me. I’ll do this. I’ll give up my seat for someone else. My life is one of sacrifice.” The voice walks down the aisle. It’s the guy with the ‘Prof Traveling Evangelist’ tshirt printed on the front and back, in case someone missed it. He walks forward and gets his coupon and someone, the guy who I guess, got in the line at the last moment, walks past and takes the empty seat.

This makes me chuckle. Just the last week at church, our pastor preached on Matthew 23:12. “whoever exalts himself will be humbled and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Peeking at my seat mate, she didn’t even notice. Lucky her. Maybe I gotta get one of those sleep masks?! The luggage handler ended up being the driver. He looked around then sat at his seat and closed the door. The engine started right up. Just a few more moments before we are moving. Pressing send shoots out the text message. I respond to a few replies with a few peeks outside the window. Haven’t been to Boston since 1995, and before that I was a kid in the late 70’s. Didn’t know the place at all.

Charlene texted me. “Call me when you are leaving Manchester.” Shooting back, “Ok.” Things are going well. Scrolling through the texts, answering a few, maybe it was nap time? Putting the phone away, one last peek out of the window. We were pulling from one highway onto I93. Considered leaning my seat back but decided against it. My head leans back and eyes close. Soon my neighbor and I are both snoring.

A shaking of the bus jars me awake. The window shows we are no longer on the Interstate but a city street. A few more turns and we’re pulling into a small bus station. This must be Manchester, the largest city in the state. A peek of the watch shows it’s moments before 10:00, right on time.

The bus stops and the door opens. My neighbor was woken by someone and was packing up her sleeping mask. Others are exiting, lead by the evangelist. Within two minutes 2/3 of our traveling companions have left us. The two people behind me are gone, so my seat goes back. Didn’t notice any new passengers boarding. Soon the door is closed. It’s only ten minutes later and we’re moving again. Phone comes out of the pocket and I call Charlene.

“Hi there.”

“Hello, we’re just leaving Manchester bus station now.”

“Perfect, I’m headed for the bus depot now. See you in a few minutes.” She sounded happy.

Don’t bother trying to sleep, my brain tries to calculate how far behind my sleep schedule was. Got up Friday at 5:15 am. It was now 10:15 Saturday. Got maybe two hours of sleep on the train and another hour on the bus. Three hours of sleep in the last 29 hours. That’s not enough but will have to do.

Back on I93, I can see the city, not knowing how large the population was. From a distance it seemed like most small cities across the country. A few buildings that climbed maybe 10-12 stories. A few church steeples.

We turn a bend on the freeway and the city is out of view. But the show beyond the window is now a vision of the suburbs of the Granite State, which isn’t so different from most others in the North East part of our country. Houses with neat lawns and cars in the driveways. Each on probably going to have a BBQ tomorrow. The weather report that was online yesterday said today and tomorrow would be nice but there was going to be showers on Monday.

After about 15 minutes on the Interstate, the driver pulls off. I shoot Charlene a text “pulling off I93 now.”

She replies, “I’m already here.”

Tring to look around, not seeing much as we pull off the highway. Don’t quite know what I should be looking for. The only thing that I would expect is the state capital building but didn’t see it.

I see the bus station before we get there. It’s a little more than an over hang covering a concrete island. I see Charlene standing with a few others. The bus pulls up and our driver opens the door. One last peek at the watch, 10:30 right on time. It takes me a moment to get blood back into my legs and to start them into motion. Letting my neighbors go out before me. Perhaps I’m more tired than originally thought? Eventually my turn to exit comes. Grabbing my laptop bag and tossing the strap over my head, I walked down the aisle, then descend the steps.

In the direct sunshine for the first time since yesterday afternoon, which was six states ago. This woke me up, fast. Before I realize it, Charlene is hugging me. This was unexpected but welcome after a moment of thought. I put my arms around her waist and hug right back.

She pulls away but only a foot or so. “How was your trip?”

“Oh man, have I got a story to tell you!” And laugh out loud. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.” And gives me a big smile.

Going over to get my broken bag, she sees it and a puzzled look comes over her face that speaks volumes.

“Yeah, it’s part of the story too.”

Now she chuckles. “Looking forward to hearing all about it.”

“Where is your car!”

“Over here,” she points and leads the way. She opens the side door of the minivan and the broken bag goes into the back. Climbing in the passenger seat and buckling up. Soon we are on our way.

She begins. “Wasn’t sure how you’d be feeling, so I wasn’t sure what to plan.” She admits.

“Well, except for something strenuous, like running a marathon, I’m up for whatever.”

“Did you sleep much on the trip?”

“Not really. Got about 2 hours on the train and almost an hour on the bus.”

She does a series of turns through the city streets. I’m looking out the window. Guess it’s a typical small city-esque. Until we’re driving past the state capital building which is prototypical of most others. Greek revival with Daic Columns and a golden dome and lots of steps. 

“This is our state capital.” My personal tour guide says, “the government is not in session due to the summer recess. Had read in the paper that even the governor is on vacation, not even in the state.”

The capital is an impressive structure, taking up what must be several city blocks. “On the left over here is that state office building I was telling you about. I looked it up. It’s the tallest building in the city but there are three taller buildings in Manchester, including the state’s tallest.”

Cruising through the city, she points out other places of interest. Next we get on a wide road that seems to head into the wilderness, with mountains that can be seen very far off in the distance.

“I was thinking, we could go back home and have some lunch.”

“Sure, that would be fine.”

“We live outside the Concord city limits and have a Hopkinton mailing address but I just tell everyone we live in Concord. Makes things easier.”

“I know what you mean. When I was in Uncle Sam’s Army and when I lived out West, I’d tell people I was born in New York City and grew up just across the river, which is all true. Makes it a lot more conductive to conversation.”

“That’s always a good thing.”

It seemed that at one point we were in the city and abruptly we were in the forest. “It’s a bit of a surprise that you don’t have much suburban sprawl here.”

“Yeah, you have that the whole way from Concord to Manchester and all the way to Boston, but on this side of the city is some protected wilderness that developers have been trying to get a hold of for decades but the trees are still standing.” She says with a chuckle.

We turn off the main road onto a local one and after a few more turns we pull into a driveway. “Home, sweet home.” She proudly exclaims.

We exit the van and enter the ranch style house. She shows me around the cozy place. I put the bag on the bed in her son’s room where I’ll be spending the next two nights. The pillow looks quite inviting but that will have to wait 12 or so more hours.

Back in the eat in kitchen, we sit for a casual lunch of sandwiches and potato chips.

“Did you want to go shopping for a new suitcase?”

“Well, when I spoke to my mother from Boston and told her the bag broke, she got kinda irate. Had to promise to take her out to buy her one that she picks out.”

“What about one for yourself?”

“I have an idea of the one that I want but will have to order it online. Get it via UPS. Will just have to manage with this one till Monday, one last trip.”

“Was your mother attached to the bag somehow?”

“She said she had it before I was born. Probably got it from the Sears catalog.”

“Why was she irate?”

“She’s just like that. One little thing doesn’t go how she imagined it should be, then she gets mean.”

Charlene is a bit shocked. “She seemed nice just three weeks ago.”

“Yeah, but then the second minute she’s cursing you out.” Charlene looks puzzled. “That’s the way it is.” And I shrug.

“My cousin runs a luggage store at the mall. If you’re interested and it’s by the movie theater, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Your cousin on Major Joy’s side of your family?”

“No, on my dad’s side.”

“I guess we could stop in if we’re in the neighborhood.” This makes me smile. She’s looking out for me. Throughout the rest of lunch, I share the tale of the late train and how we got to Boston on time. The Prof Traveling Evangelist and the seat on the bus.

“So you opened your eyes and caught the sunrise on the shore?”

“It was spectacular and perfect timing. I should have taken some pictures!”

Cleaning up after lunch, we head back on the road and the tour continues. “President Franklin Pierce was born only 15 miles from here in Hillsboro. He was the 14th President of the US. He was also the Governor.” We drive around and she points out local and personal landmarks.

We pull up to the shopping plaza. We go into the luggage store but her cousin wasn’t working today. I look around some, there doesn’t seem to be anything cheap enough to justify buying for this one trip to New Jersey. This was the excuse I’ve been waiting for to break down and buy the Rick Steves bag I’ve been wishing for, for the past two years.

“So, what movie do you want to see?” I asked.

“Well, I was thinking about the Fahrenheit 9/11 movie. There has been a lot of buzz about it the last two weeks.”

“Ok, whatever you want.” Not quite what I had expected but it wasn’t a problem. The film was on my wish list too. “I’ve seen a few Michael Moore films before. Rodger and Me and Bowling for Columbine. They give you a lot to think about.”

“Not quite a date movie, wasn’t sure how’d you react.”

“It’s fine. I like all kinds of movies. Arthouse, documentary, some of my favorites are foreign.” I just let that sit there for a moment. “Do you get a peek at many political candidates coming into the Primary season?”

“Yeah, it seems that all the politicians forget about us, except every four years. When the presidential primary comes, they all show up and hordes of press follow them around. And when you add winter weather into the mix, there is all kinds of traffic problems. Advertising is everywhere, billboards, tv, radio… then there are the protesters. Road closures, traffic accidents. Sometimes a president or vice president comes to town, don’t even like thinking about THAT!” She snorts then laughs at herself for it.

“They always want to go to the corps for a photo op. We keep having to tell them no. That upsets the local politicians, which hurts us in the long term.”

“Have you met many?”

“A few but oddly enough, none that ever went on to win it all in November.” This generates more chuckles. We walk to the movie theater. We still have 45 minutes before the movie. We chat about movies some more. 

“Oh, my friend lent me her copy of Fifty First Dates. Maybe we could watch that later if you want?” she says.

“Yeah, sure. We could do that.” That sounded more like a date movie.

We get popcorn and sodas and watch the movie. It was very political as was expected but there wasn’t any people talking at all, which I found to be a very nice change. Maybe it was still the custom up here? That would be a good thing. The movie was long but good. So the time went by quickly.

After the movie, she suggested an early dinner, which was fine by me. We tossed some ideas around, I was kind of hoping for something local but we ended up at the Olive Garden, which is the same everywhere.

We talked about movies in general and the one we came from in particular. Dinner was fine. After which we take the scenic route back to her house, where her parents are waiting for us.  Introductions are made all around. We drink coffee while they inquired about my train trip.

“We’ve always thought about going around the country on one of those month long passes, just hopping on and off here and there.”

“That would be fun, but once you’re outside the Northeast, sometimes you get only one train a day. When I lived out West, in Idaho, was lucky enough to live in one of the five or six towns where there was a station.”

“Did you take the train often out there?”

“Twice. Once to Portland and once to Salt Lake City.”

“Are those scenic rides?”

“They were mostly after dark. The Salt Lake City trip was in Winter. So there wasn’t a whole lot of daylight to being with.”

“We’ve never been West of the Mississippi but spent lots of time here in the White Mountains.”

“We may go there on Monday, weather permitting.” Charlene adds, “but that’s not looking so good.”

“I’ve driven a few times back and forth from the Boise, Idaho area to Fort Riley, Kansas. Driving through Utah, Wyoming and Colorado. But the best trip was the one in ’93 when I drove to and through Yellowstone and the Mountains of Montana and Wyoming.” Then they asked a lot of questions. They were very excited to hear about it. Good thing I didn’t’ mention going through the Swiss and Italian Alps.

In another half an hour her parents went out somewhere and we made some microwave popcorn and sat on the floor to watch Fifty First Dates, which made us both laugh. By the end of it I was yawning quite a bit. Had to hide it initially but by the end was fighting the sleep monster.

“Don’t feel bad, you didn’t get much sleep last night. Why don’t you turn in.”

I did feel bad. It was almost 9 pm. “Ya sure? Don’t want to be a party pooper.”

“It’s fine. If you need anything, just let me know.” She smiled and nodded.

I didn’t know whether to hug her or even kiss her maybe, but just put my tail between my legs, as it were, and embarrassed went into the bedroom. Plugging in my phone, changing into shorts and tshirt. A quick visit to the bathroom and then was out like a light by 9:15.

Drifted into wakefulness slowly. Another morning waking up in a strange place but at least my memory set right the location before being conscious of my location. When finally peeked at my watch it was almost 5. Being trained in my brain to wake up at this time, who said men don’t have biological clocks?

Had all my things ready and got into the shower before anyone else got up. Decided to get back into my short and a fresh white tshirt. Won’t put the uniform on till the last minute, if I could help it. Less chance to make a mess of it.

After the bathroom, booted up the laptop and wrote a bit. Missing the Wifi of home, also missing coffee, I got a blog post all typed up and ready to cut and paste once I got online. At 6:00 I looked up from the kitchen table where I was working to see Charlene standing there in her bathrobe.

“How long have you been up?” she said sleepily, trying to manage her ‘bed head’ with her hand.

“Just a little bit,” I fibbed. “Got me a chance to wake up slowly, which was very nice.”

“You could have woke me.”

“Nah, that wasn’t necessary,” I chuckled, “You don’t have to be with me every waking moment.”

She smiled, then went to make some coffee, which made me smile. “What time do we need to leave for church?”

“About 8:30. We serve breakfast starting at 9. Sunday school starts at 10 and the meeting at 11.” She used the official term for the church/worship service, “holiness meeting’.

“We got lots of time. What needs to be done before we leave?”

“Nothing, really, bathe, dress, drink coffee.”

“Great! Hey, can I use your phone line for a few minutes so I can get online? It’s an 800 number.” Was going to use the back up line for my workplace’s service.

“You can use the computer if you want.”

“No, it’s not necessary. I got my own, just need the phone line, even got my own cable.”

“Yeah, sure,” she pointed to the computer in the corner of the living room. “My dad needed a dedicated fax line for work and when he retired we just used it for the computer. It’s separate from the main house number. Actually, it was originally hooked up when I was 13, my parents got me my own phoneline for my birthday.” She laughed some at herself.

“I’m so jealous. I never got my own phone.” This made her laugh even more. I get up and get the cable from my bag. Unplugging her cable from the wall jack, I plug in my own and log in.

Reverting back to dial up is often arduous. A quick peek at my email, nothing that needed some immediate attention. Maybe the boss was actually taking the weekend off? Was able to update my blog and a quick check of the weather. Also checked on Amtrak, the Saturday train left Washington right on time at 10:00. How come my train was the only one late? A check on my return trip showed nothing out of the ordinary.

Charlene brings me a cup of coffee. “Thank you so very much.”

“You’re welcome,” she sits and joins me with her own cup. “So, what did you write about me in your blog?”

This makes me laugh. “All good things, I promise. Don’t worry, I only get like a dozen hits each day. I probably know all of them.”

“I hear all about these bloggers having thousands of daily readers and making crazy amount of money.”

“Yeah, they are the only ones people hear about. 99.9% don’t make a dime. I just find it a good way of writing and sharing a continuing story.”

“I read it and your actually doing things and have thing worth reading. If I did that it would be; got up, went to work, came home, cooked dinner, did laundry, day after day after day.”

“Being a mom is a tough job, and you do lots of laundry.”

This makes her smile. “It’s tough but I do enjoy it.” She leans back and sips her coffee.

“Hey, I was looking at the weather for tomorrow, it’s looking like a drizzly day.”

“Yeah, was afraid of that. Don’t think we’ll be in the mountains. Visibility will be poor.”

“Can’t see the Old Man of the Mountain in the rain.”

“It’s been a big tourist spot ever since it ended up on the back of our quarter.”

“Do you think there was a surge in Nathaniel Hawthorne sales from it?”

“Maybe, every school kid in New Hampshire has to read The Great Stone Face in like the 7th grade. My daughter did it this past year and then we went up there. Put a photo of herself and the face on the front of her report. She got an A!”

“That’s great!”

“Don’t want to be driving in those twisty mountain roads in the rain, just to find out we can’t even see the damn thing.”

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense.”

Mom and Dad join us with their own coffee. We do some more chatting till about 8:00, when Charlene jumps into the shower and I get dressed. We get into the minivan and are on our way right on time.

“Things should be good for the festivities this afternoon, at least weatherwise.”

“Not too hot today, or cool or cloudy tonight for the fireworks.”

“Last year it was too cool for the 4th of July. Everyone was walking around with jackets on!”

“That’s not good.”

“Let me tell you about the plan for today. We’re having breakfast at 9, which is usually just cereal in the summer. Then we have Sunday school at 10. Sometimes I am teaching the little ones or maybe the 6-10 year olds. Then we all come together for the meeting at 11 and it’s done by 1. But our Corps officers are away this week, so you never really know how long it will go.”

“I hear you. I guess that’s universal.”

“Yeah, it probably is. The Corps is on a corner of the county fair grounds. So it’s a unique spot. The fair grounds hosts the big festival. There are carnival rides, games, good and a stage with bands and acts all day and fireworks at 9:30 tonight.”

“That sounds great! What will we be doing?”

“Well, the corps has like an open house among other things is selling drinks and requesting donations to use the bathroom.”

“There’s no bathrooms at the fairgrounds?”

“They truck in porto-potties, not everybody will use them.”

“Ok, like I told you, you can count me in.”

This makes her laugh. “You’re not gonna have any problems being in your uniform all day?”

“Not an issue, at all.”

It’s not long before we are pulling into the parking lot. Not 200 yards away there was a ferris wheel among other amusements. Charlene adds, “There just setting things up. It doesn’t open until noon.”

“Oh, that’s why I don’t smell any cooking yet!”

We enter the corps building and Charlene introduces me around. This is when my phone rings in my pocket. It’s my mother.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Are you dead?”

“No, not that I’m aware of.”

“Why didn’t you call me last night?”

“I fell asleep at like nine o’clock.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I got only two hours of sleep on the train. So I was worn out last night. I am sorry.”

“When will you take me to get a new suitcase?”

“Whenever you want.”

“How can you say that? You’re in Vermont. What if I want to go today?”

“I’m not in Vermont. It’s New Hampshire. I’ll take you Saturday if I’m not working. Otherwise Sunday after church.”

“You better if you know what’s good for you.”

“I gotta go. I’ll be home late tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye, say hello to your Vermont girlfriend. Tell her you’re ready to move in.”

“Bye Mom.” And I end the call and silence the phone. Don’t need anything to ruin the day any further. Took a detour into the men’s room to collect myself, clear my head and my bladder.

Returning refreshed and relieved again with a smile. There were more introductions and we move into the dining room. Within a few minutes I was wearing an apron and plastic gloves, waiting for the Sunday School van to deliver the first group of people. We weren’t waiting long before a group of kids starts to bounce off the walls and what do we do with them? Give them surgary breakfast cereals of course! Soon other people come in on their own. By the time 9:30 rolled around we had about 40 or so diners. At one point I joined them and ate some raisin bran with some more coffee.

Got to talk with some people who were curious about who I was and where I was from. Got to rehash a bit of the tale of the train and bus ride. One person told me that when she got back from her trip to the commissioning week, she was gushing when she talked about her New York tour. Which in turn made me blush a bit but with prideful smirk. It was good to know that she really liked her visit to New York.

The breakfast was cleaned up and the Sunday school was called out. It was split up into classes by age group. I went in with the adult group and Charlene went and taught her other class period ended up in the class with Charlene's dad which was good. 

The corps Sergeant major ran the class because the corps officers were away on vacation Come to find out that they were at a wedding. The class was not remarkable and soon over after which we had a 15 minute break before the worship service.

After a bathroom break checked my phone for messages. Christine sent a text ‘you are missed here, heard that you broke someone's suitcase. Lol’. 

The holiness meeting began with singing, same as just about everywhere. Looking around guess there was about 50 people there. There were some general announcements. I paid attention to the ones concerning today and the events regarding the fair and the fireworks. The Sergeant major says that the doors are already open but the fair itself wasn't going to open until noon. He assured us that we'd be done by then which garnered some giggles from those assembled. 

After the offering, the Sergeant major got up in front of the congregation and I expected to hear a sermon. “What I decided to do today was to give everyone 5 minutes to give their testimony. In first Peter 3: 15 it says ‘but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy always being prepared to give an answer to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.’

This wasn't expected but at least he went first giving everyone a few minutes to prepare. Charlene had us sitting in the front row. So we were like 5th and 6th to go. When my turn came around I was ready. I had a good idea about what I wanted to share.

“Good morning. I’m Charlie and I’m a soldier in the Perth Amboy, NJ Corps. My friend, Charlene, invited me and is a wonderful host. I’m very thankful for the warm and friendly reception I’ve gotten here today and I’m looking forward to being part of the big Independence Day celebration. I am also thankful that wherever I have gone there has been a great welcome. From small corps in Pennsylvania to big ones in New York City. I’ve found brothers and sisters in the Lord to praise and honor our God. In 190 countries we have friends who wave the same flag. Even though I’m leaving for home tomorrow, I’m looking forward to celebrating the holiday with you here today. Thank you.” Then I sat down.

Then Charlene went and everybody else had a turn. Some people spoke better than others but that would be the same anywhere. Someone later mentioned that some people snuck out before their turn came. 

The Sergeant major spoke for a few moments at the end. He finally opened his Bible quoting first Peter 3: 15 ‘but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asked you for a reason for the hope that is in you, yet do so with gentleness and respect.’ The point of the message was you should always be ready to share the gospel, always. It was more of an exercise than a sermon. 

Soon after that things wrapped up and I was helping clean and straighten up. It was going to be an open house after all. After everything was done, I peeked at my watch it was almost one o'clock which made a lot of sense. All I knew that I was getting hungry. 

Charlene found me, “hey want to stroll the festival and get some lunch? “

“I was hoping you would ask!” We walked out of the corps building and toward the festivities. It was maybe 200 yards from the church’s property, not much of a hike.

There were rows of concession trailers, some selling food, some were games of chance, others were selling items like t-shirts and other novelties. Almost all were displaying the flag or other forms of Red, White and Blue since it was the Fourth of July.

Charlene and I got some chili dogs, which wasn't the smartest choice, since we were walking around and we were both wearing white shirts. Having left our uniform tunics at the core, but we got through it without making a mess, which was a minor miracle. After that got some slushy type drinks which we figured was smarter than ice cream. After about half an hour or so we wandered back to the corps which freed up some other people to cruise the festival. I was asked to take a stool and sit outside the corps near the front door say “hello” to whomever comes by, welcome them to come inside and use the bathroom or take a break from the sun in the air conditioning . Which was odd to me because it was just over 80 degrees. 

So I just sat there at my post with a bottle of water. Was wearing my embroidered uniform blouse with the Salvation Army shield logo on my tie. The position of the core building at the far end of the fairgrounds meant that there wasn't a lot of foot traffic that came by. Some people from the church came and we did some chit chatting as they passed. One group of young people stopped by for a while. One asked if I was the guy Charlene talked about after she came back from the commissioning week. 

“Maybe, did she mention we went to Ground Zero?”

“Oh, yeah. She went on and on about it,” which produced some giggles. “Are you from New York City?”

“I was born there but I live across the river in New Jersey now-a-days.” I say with pride.

“What’s it like to live in New York?”

“It’s very busy, fast and expensive.”

“Do you go to New York City often?”

“At least once a month, for one reason or another.”

“How can you drive with all those taxi cabs zipping all over the place?”

“I try very hard not to drive in Manhattan. I’ll take the train or the ferry and then go around via the subway or bus.”

“Have you been at many famous places?” someone asked.

“Probably any you can name.”

“The Empire State Building?” asked another.

“Ha, my father worked there.”

“Like way way up in the sky?”

“No, he only worked on the second floor.”

We went on for a while naming some places. All of which I’ve been to. 

“How have you gone to all those places?”

“Well, I’m 35 and lived within 50 miles of the City for all but about 7 of those years.”

“How did you get here?”

“I took the train to Boston and then a bus from there.”

“How long does it take to go from New York to Boston on the train?”

“Almost six hours.”

“Did you ride the Acella Bullet train?”

“No, just the regular Amtrak train. Slept most of the way.”

“Why?”

“It was the overnight train, pulled into Boston at 7 am yesterday morning,” I shrugged.

“When are you going home?”

“I have to get on the bus tomorrow at two. I’ll get home about midnight and will be up at 5:30 am to go back to work on Tuesday.” This generates some laughs.

The young people talk to me for more than half-an-hour, which was good. I certainly didn’t mind these kinds of questions and I always enjoy talking about my hometown.

Some people came by on their way to the fairgrounds. Some stopped and said hello. They tell me that the other parking areas were filling up and should expect to see more people coming by because there were now parking further away. I couldn't decide if this was good news or bad news. 

Every once in a while, someone from the Corps came out and checked on me. At one point I used this as a chance to leave my post for a bathroom break. Don't know where Charlene went, haven't seen her in a couple of hours. As it turns 7:00 more and more people come by. Someone tells me that the fireworks are scheduled for 9:00 and the festival will be filled up by then. My brain and belly start thinking about getting some supper before the place gets up to full capacity which I expect to be soon. 

Texting Charlene “what would you like for dinner?” A few minutes later she comes out with some others. 

“Sorry about this afternoon. We ended up going through an old file cabinet, trying to figure what we could get rid of. There is never a day that there are enough of us here to make choices.”

“Oh, I know how that can be.” And I laugh. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, didn’t realize how late it had gotten. John is gonna stay here and we’ll all go over together.”

“Thank you, John, do you want me to bring you something back?”

“No, thank you. I’ll go over late.”

So there are five of us walking over together. They ask about the happenings at the front door. I told them that there were some people saying ‘hello’. A lot of people from the corps were checking on me, being very friendly. The young people spent some time with me.

Once at the event itself, we split up. I talk Charlene into getting gyros, which isn’t a smart idea for eating while walking and wearing white shirts either, only slightly less dumb than chili dogs. While walking around we spot a vendor selling grilled corn on the cob. So this follows up the gyros. 

“We gotta eat our veggies!” I joke.

After this we walk around some but things are getting too crowded for her. So we stroll back to the corps with Italian ice in our hands, why not a messy dessert? While walking back I joke that I was probably the only one there all day wearing a tie!

By the time we got back it was just aft 7:30. John had been relieved and after a visit to the bathroom, I resumed my post on the stool outside the front door. I was having a good time out there. Joked with someone that they should bring out a Christmas kettle and give me a bell! A couple of ‘young people’ came out and we were all hanging out. Mostly they were looking at the passing crowds, hoping to spot friends headed into the carnival.

As 9:00 approached the fairgrounds were packed. The sun had gone down and a breeze kicked in. It cooled down quite quickly. We were talking about fireworks and I was asked about the best fireworks display I’ve ever seen.

“In 1983, I went to the 100th Birthday celebration of the Brooklyn Bridge. There was fireworks launched from the river and the top of the towers but the finale was a waterfall of white fireworks from the deck of the bridge but not firing up into the sky but cascading down into the river.” Everyone thought this was definitely cool.

I kept one eye on my watch and another out for Charlene. Was hoping that we would be watching the big show together. In the last ten minutes, the whole corps emptied and just about everyone was angling for a good spot. Couldn’t find Charlene but she found me with only a few minutes to spare. Was thinking about making a romantic move during the spectacle but not in front of all her friends, that wouldn’t be so good.

“I feel, snide, guess the word I’m looking for, like I got you up here to spend time with you and to show you around the festival and all afternoon I’ve been digging through old file cabinets and closets.”

“I don’t feel bad, so you shouldn’t either.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes not a problem whatsoever.”

“Still I feel bad.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s not your responsibility to keep me entertained 24/7.” This was the moment when the lights from the fairgrounds dimmed down which generates cheers and applause. From where we are, we can just make out the music as the first of the rockets blast into the sky.

The display was good and lasted about 20 minutes. Without me even noticing, some of the corps members had brought out a table and coolers filled with ice and sodas. Was asked to help sell some to the exiting crowds, of which there were a lot by this point. It took about half-an-hour for the bulk of the visitors to pass. It looked like the concessions were still open and doing some business. It was about 10:00 when we were closing things down. About 10:20 Charlene asked if I was ready to go. After 12 hours the answer was yes! By this time most of the event traffic was cleared.

“There is only three or four people left,” Charlene said in the minivan. “They’re just cleaning up and doing the administrative things with the money.”

“Any idea how much money was taken in all day?”

“Nope, don’t want to have anything to do with any money. Have seen so many fights and suspicions. It’s not worth the headaches.”

“I can believe that.”

We wee both tired and there wasn’t a whole lot of chitchat on the way home. When we got there, her parents were there waiting for us with a pot of decaf coffee and a selection of cookies. We sat around the kitchen table for maybe 15 minutes but by then everyone was ready for bed. A quick visit to the bathroom and then I was out like a light.

MONDAY, JULY 5, 2004

Got up about 8, there was coffee and pancakes waiting. Charlene, her mother and I were having a leisurely breakfast. Her father went and was on his way to pick up Charlene’s son from camp.

As the weather man promised, it was overcast and rain was threatening. “I was planning on taking you out to see the Old Man of the Mountain but it’s not smart to be driving up in the mountains especially since visibility will be near zero.”

“We don’t have to do anything. We can just spend time here today.” I say.

“No, I have a plan B.” She looks at the clock. “Let’s leave here in about an hour, call it 9:30.”

“Yeah, sure. Can I check my email real quick?”

“Sure, tell you what. I’ll jump into the shower now. You can do what you need to do and get a shower after me.”

“Sure that sounds good.”

“I’ll see you in a few.” She gets up and so do I. In a moment I have my laptop plugged into the phone jack. A quick check shows no issues with my trip home. I send a few quick messages and type up a quick blog update. A few minutes later all of my gear is packed up and I’m ready to get into the shower just as Charlene is getting out.

Shave and shower and soon I’m done. I’ve got all my things packed up and I bring my laptop bag and the broken suitcase into the living room. Already to go and it’s not yet 9:20. Time for more coffee!

Charlene’s Dad and son come in. Introductions are made. Charlene says, “Let’s go to Lake Winnipesaukee.” Which is met with a cheer.  Inside of fifteen minutes we are all loaded up into the minivan and on the road. 

“Lake Winnipesaukee is the largest lake in New England. There are resorts and vacation homes all around it.” She says. “There are some amusements and things in and around Fulfeboro and a nice waterfall.”

“This sounds like fun. How long does it take to get there?”

“About 45 minutes or so, not far.”

“As long as you get me to the bus stop before two o’clock. I’m in your capable hands.” Which draws laughter.

The three of us cruise down the main road. The road is wet. “On a clear day, you can see the mountains from here. Today all we have are clouds. Sorry about that.”

They each told me some stories about things they have done at the lake over the years. Soon we’re there. There aren’t very many cars in the lot. We take a stroll along the lake side. Mainly because there is a break in the drizzle. There are docks and boats of different sizes.

“How big is the lake?”

“I don’t remember but it’s 1,000s of acres.”

The drizzle returns and we go into a complex with shops, eateries and large arcade. We change some bills into quarters. Like any kid in a Chuck-E-Cheese type place, the kid is in hog heaven. I even play a few video games. I also take a peek at the souvenir shop but don’t make any purchases.

About noon we break for lunch. One of the shops was a pizza place, which wasn’t as bad as I had expected. It was a treat. After this we got back into the minivan and drove to the waterfall, only fifteen minutes away. There was a ten minute stroll through the woods on a paved path to get to the falls, which was pleasant despite some drizzle. The place was very empty, seeing only a handful of people along the trail. The falls themselves were not very impressive but it did give a sense of tranquility. It was only a creek that dropped 15-20 feet but what was memorable was that it was isolated. There were no sounds, besides footsteps and voices, that was not nature singing in her special way.

We stayed there several minutes, just enjoying the tableau, that was until the rain started to pick up some. That was our cue to wrap it up. With some pep in our step, we hustled back to the parking lot and none to soon. Just a few minutes on the road brought some real rain.

“Hey, we did pretty good timewise. I got you to everything I wanted to show you before the rain came,” Charlene said, beaming.

“You are an excellent tour guide, and host by the way. I can’t thank you enough for all you have done for me this weekend.”

“Things didn’t go as expected but everything worked out well in the end.”

Alarms chimed in my head. ‘What was it she WAS expecting?’ But I stifled that voice as much as possible. 

“This has been a pleasant trip. Getting away, spending time with friends, doing new things, getting to know people. All good stuff,” I say.

“It’s been a while since I’ve played hostess. Used to do it often, all of the time when I was younger. My parents were and still are, high people in the church, in our division. We would host people just about every month. Someone or another would be coming by and they would stay at our place. We even hosted Commissioner Radier before he was elected General.”

“Oh, how cool is that?”

“Yeah, when I got the call after his election, maybe ten years ago or so, we were so mad at ourselves that we didn’t get any pictures with him while he was here.”

“Oh, I could imagine that. That would be one to hang on the wall!”

We drove along the lake some, then pulled onto a highway that would bring us to Concord. We had just more than an hour before the bus was due to depart. The sign said the capital was only 35 miles away, so there was no rush.

Charlene and her son pointed out points of local interest along the way. So the trip went quickly. I took it all in and looked around as best I could with the rain and clouds.

Her son said, “Maybe next time you come we can go to the coast, Portsmouth or maybe Old Orchard Beach, which is over the border and into Maine?”

“That could be fun,” then it dawns on me, “didn’t you mention something about Old Orchard Beach and Labor Day?”

“Yeah, but I think all the rooms are sold out by now,” she said with disappointment.

Not much later we are pulling off of the highway and onto the city streets. “How far is the bus station from the Corps and fairgrounds?”

“I don’t know, maybe four or five miles, not too far I guess.”

I take one more set of glances out of the windows. Seems like any other small city. Before I realize it, we are pulling into the parking lot with fifteen minutes to spare. We end up pulling in right behind the bus, so we’re good. My mind starts to think about how to say goodbye but I’m not coming up with anything worthwhile. 

We park and I collect my bags from the back of the minivan. I proceed to the covered area as quickly as we can to avoid as much rain as possible. Pulling my ticket from the pocket of my laptop bag, I stop and shake her son’s hand first.

“It was great finally meeting you. Thanks for being a great tour guide and thanks for letting me sleep in your bed while you were gone.”

Then I turn to his mother. “I really had a great time. I so appreciate all you have done for me through all of this. I hope soon I’ll be able to do the same for you.”

At this she laughs, “I was saying thank you for our New York visit.”

I just give her a big hug and a peck on the cheek. “Be sure to call me when you get home,” she says.

“Thank will be late, almost midnight.”

“I won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re home anyway. Call my cell.”

“Ok. I’ll text you updates along the way.”

“Great. That will be great.” And she hugs me back then steps away. I take this as a sign.

Grabbing my broken suitcase, with my laptop bag over my shoulder and ticket in hand, I turn and go over to the person at the luggage bin. Showing him my ticket, he was about to grab the case’s broken handle but I stop him. I just toss the bag into the bin myself.

Turning toward the door and getting into the line to board, I see Charlene is still standing there looking at me and smiling. I smile back and wave. She laughs and waves back. I present my ticket to the clerk with the clipboard, who checks my name off of his list. One last turn toward my hostess and one last wave. Then I climb aboard. A walk down the aisle and take a window seat after putting my laptop in the overhead rack. Looking out the window, Charlene and her son have gone. She wouldn’t be able to see me wave through the tinted windows anyway.

The bus is only about 20% filled and no one is sitting next to me. So I pull down the laptop bag as the driver starts up the bus. Before we are out of the bus station, the computer is botting up. A peek at my watch shows it is just past two o’clock. Two hours before the train is schedule to leave Boston. On the road to Manchester, I’m typing my updates and choosing what images to post. Then it occurs to me, didn’t take a whole lot of pictures this trip and none of Charlene and me. A bit late to make this conclusion.

As we are pulling into the station, I gather my things from the seat next to mine and put them under my seat but it’s not an issue. Only 15 or so people get on and no one sits next to me anyway. Just a few more minutes and we are back on I93, headed for Boston. Even the interstate is clear but still wet. Now I’m again happy that I won’t have to go outside while walking from the bus station to the train station. 

With all my updates done, I can play a game for the remainder of the smooth ride. This makes the time pass very quickly. Before I even realize it, we are pulling off the highway. Never even saw a sign saying, ‘Welcome to Massachusetts’. Packing up the computer, then planning my maneuvers: off the bus, grab my broken bag, get to the train station, visit bathroom, grab some food (hopefully something portable), find my track and then board the train. Try to catch some Wifi from my seat which hopefully has a working outlet. Got only half an hour, assuming that we get there on time. A peek at my watch shows that there is no reason to suspect we’ll be late.

While still mulling this over in my head, we pull into the station. Things are looking good! The driver skillfully pulls up to the gate, opens the door and shuts down the engine. It’s only 3:18, I’ll take that.

Maybe I’m the first one up and headed to the door. The door to the cargo compartment isn’t yet open by the time I get there.

“Gotta catch a train,” I tell the guy. He smiles with understanding. He pops the hatch and I yank my bag by its broken handle. In through the gate. The first sign I notice is one for the men’s room. A good place to start.

Exiting the restroom, can clearly see the way to South Station. It’s a quick walk and in moments I’m walking along side the trains. The status board tells the track but the ‘boarding light’ is not flashing. Still good. Not on my list but a convenience style store. A quick peek inside shows ready made sandwiches, this is good. Grabbing two cellophane wrapped hoagies, two small bags of Doritos, a candy bar and two 16 oz bottles of Coke. This is very convenient but the total is $26! What can I do at this point. Tossing some mayo packs in my bag and I’m out. Still the ‘boarding light’ isn’t blinking. So it’s a slow stroll the 60 or so feet to the track. The train is there and a line of about 45 people waiting behind a rope. This is all right by me. I sit down on the concrete and pull out the laptop. The Wifi works from here and I’m able to sync my email and get my blog updated. Then adding ‘at Boston South Station, waiting to board the train home’.

The station staff open the platform, the laptop goes into its bag without being shut down. I get up and gather my things, pulling the ticket out and handing it to the conductor at the door to the car. She hands it back and allows me to board.

Going down the aisle, I take a seat by a window. Putting my broken bag in the overhead rack, I put my other things on the seat next to my own. Don’t expect there to be a crowd. The laptop comes back out and luckily I can still catch the station’s Wifi. Also the power outlet worked just fine. I sent a few text messages via the computer. “On the train in Boston, waiting to begin the journey back home.”

The train doesn’t begin rolling until 4:15, which is just fine. A peek around the car shows only six other people. Even more empty than I could have imagined! Now that we were on our way I relaxed quite a bit, even kicked off my shoes. 

Leaning my seat back, the first of the sandwiches gets broken out but before the wrapping can be pulled off, the conductor comes and checks my ticket again and places a seat check on the rail of the luggage rack. 

Replies to my text messages begin coming into my phone. But right after eating the sandwich, I call mom.

“Hi mom.”

“Oh hi. Where are you now?”

“On the train. Just left Boston a few minutes ago.”

“How long does it take to get to New Jersey.”

“About seven hours.”

“You are crazy. You could fly in two hours.”

“Sorry, didn’t have an extra grand to aid in that. But if you count in getting to the airport, parking, waiting in line for security and getting there two hours early, even more for the holiday, it’s a wash.”

“Yeah, maybe. When will you get home?”

“About midnight, or so.”

“Then you expect to get up at 5 am to go to work?”

“Yep.”

“You are crazy.”

“Was nice talking to you too mom.”

“Yeah, whatever. Bye.” Then she hung up.

I play a round of Age of Empires while nursing my soda and Doritos. Before we get to Providence, RI, I’m dozing off.  Putting the laptop into hibernate but leaving it plugged in to fill up the battery. Again wishing for one of those sleep masks but still nodded off without much difficulty.

Next thing I’m aware of it’s almost 7:00.  Must assume we are somewhere in Connecticut. A look around the car, the population has tripled but there’s still 100 empty seats. Sliding my shoes on, it’s a trip to the bathroom, leaving my things in the seat. It’s nice to stretch the old legs after sitting for three hours. Sending a few text messages but just relaxing in my seat. Then I start thinking about Charlene. What is this all about? What’s next? Did she give any signals? None that I can think of.

This is when Christine texts me. “How was your romantic weekend getaway?”

“Wasn’t like that at all”

“Is she a good kisser?”

“Got no idea.”

“Hey kiddo, you’re losing your touch.”

“Well, there were no sparks.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Not bad, not like that was a goal or something.”

This goes on for quite a while. This is when the second sandwich comes out. Out the window the Long Island Sound shoreline zips by. Quite a different scene from Saturday morning’s sunrise. Now 60+ hours later, and going west reflections of the weekend swim through my head. It was a great trip, regardless of what may or may not have happened between Charlene and me. So, I am a winner, and anything beyond that is a bonus. With this in mind, an even greater sense of relief came over me. Ate the last of the Doritos while looking out of the window.

The washing of happiness and joy was so complete, even the spending didn’t exceed my budget. Leaning as far back as the seat allowed and stretching my legs forward. ‘Can’t do this on an airplane!’

The countryside of the Nutmeg State rolling by at 100 miles an hour as each minute brought me closer to home. Time continued ticking until we got to New Haven, which was a schedule 40 minute layover. Just for curiosity, searched for Wifi and there was a signal, so I logged on.

A check of the schedule showed that we were on time. Then an old idea came to mind. Instead of sitting in a still train for an hour and a half in New York’s Penn Station, I could get off the train and onto a NJ Transit train for the last hop to the Metropark station, where my car was waiting. I could be home in bed before the Amtrak even left New York! Looking online, showed that there was a NJT train at 10:20, plenty of time to make it if we got to New York at the posted 10:00 hour. So if we’re on time, that is what I will do.

Quick checks of email and blog comments, sending a few texts (I found it so much easier to do so via the computer than on the phone with it’s T9 input method). The train left New Haven right on time. By now the sun was setting and the suburbs of Fairfield county were growing dark this Monday night.

As we got closer to New York you can't really tell when you have crossed the border from Connecticut from the train. I was quite happy. This turned out a lot better than I had thought. 

When the train crossed the East River on the Hells Gate bridge from the Bronx into Queens this was a sign that this was the end of the line. Packing all of my things up putting on my shoes and eating The Boston bike candy bar. All demonstrations of my desire to close down this leg of the trip. Reflecting on the travel I silently decided that the train will be my preferred method of travel. If that was even an option. A quick visit to the bathroom ate up the remaining minutes of the trip. Upon my exit we were already underground and headed under the East River this time and under the city streets of Manhattan. Didn't even sit back down in my seat but stood and retrieved the broken bag from the rack and pocketed the seat check. Slinging the laptop bag over my shoulder just in time to hear the announcement on the PA “now arriving New York Penn Station”. Shuffling to the door with another peek at my watch. Right on time. I'll take that! 

I'm in the vestibule when we first enter the station proper. Out of the window the long line of platforms slide by as we slow down. Upon stopping the door switch is open and I'm on the platform in one hop period up the escalator an into the main station. A peek at the status board shows what track my next train is on. It still says on time. It would be quite crappy to jump from one train to a second that would be even later. A visit to the New Jersey Transit ticket window for the one way fare. If $8.00 will save me 90 minutes that's money well spent. 

By the time I get over to the stairs to my platform the train is already boarding. This was a good plan. Once seated on the train I tried to look out the window to see my previous one but I was on the wrong side of the car. 

Sending text messages from my phone at New York Penn Station switching to a local train to get home an hour earlier period soon were in motion. Under the Hudson River and now was back in New Jersey. This was familiar landscape even in the dark haven't taken this trip hundreds of times before. 

Reply texts start coming in and this eats up the time some. Although my anxiousness to get home is tempered by the thought that homecoming equals end of the holiday weekend. Can't have one without the other.

Newark, Elizabeth, Linden, Rahway, all slide by. The train stops and people egress and enter. I check my camera, scrolling back to the beginning of the trip. The first image is of the painted stencil of my parking space number. Passing over St. George’s Avenue is my regular cue to start heading to the door. Grabbing my bags for the last time, one last trip down the aisle holding the broken bag.

Pulling into the station and the door opens. I step out onto the platform. All too familiar. Down the stairs, under the tracks through the tunnel that always smells like urine, up into the parking deck and there is my Red Subaru. Thankfully, with no parking ticket under the windshield wiper.

Tossing the bags into the back, soon we are on our way through the streets of Woodbridge Township. I call my mother, even though it’s almost 11:00. “Didn’t want to alarm you but I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

“Didn’t you say you’d be home about midnight?”

“Yeah, but instead of waiting 90 minutes in New York I switched to an earlier New Jersey Transit train.”

“I’m still up anyway, don’t have to go in till ten tomorrow.”

“Ok, I’ll see you soon. I’m passing the Quick Chek now.”

Two more traffic lights through the sleepy lower middle class suburb of Avenel. This was a good trip! This is my final analysis. Ten more minutes, I’m parking at my usual spot. Hearing my doors open and lcose brings my mother’s face to the windows, not uncommon. Pulling the bags from the car and around to the door, she actually opens the door for me.

After a quick hug, I call Charlene. “I am home, thank you again for a wonderful weekend!”

“I’m glad you had a good trip and are home safe.”

“Good night. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Mom had lots of questions, as was expected. Ended up botting up the computer and shower her some of the pictures. I reassured her that I would take her out next weekend to buy her a new suitcase. Little did either of us know but I got her to buy me a Rick Steves Original Back Door Bag suitcase/rucksack for that following Christmas.

By midnight the coffee was set up for the morning. All my photos were posted online. My laundry was already in the washing machine, ready to wash after my AM shower. Even the broken suitcase was on the curb with the other trash for the garbage men to pick up the next day.

Over the next week or so I gladly shared the story of the trip with everyone who asked. The broken bag, the late train, the lady going to her grandmother’s funeral, the Professional Traveling Evangelist, the festival and fireworks….this was a tale worth sharing.

I had gotten a coupon for Edible Arrangements and used it to send a ‘thank you’ gift to Charlene and her family. I thought that flowers would be sending too much of a signal.

We talked and emailed some after that but she later told me she hadn’t felt much ‘chemistry’ (a term I still don’t quite understand) with me but she didn’t regret any of the weekend.

In early August Nicole and her mom finally called me and we went out often after our first day together. We went to church and Chuck-E-Cheese. She became the primary female in my life, which was just fine with me.

Early in 2005 Charlene called me out of the blue. She told me that the guy she had been seeing just prior to meeting me, whom she was ‘pre-engaged’ to (whatever that means) had recently and suddenly died. She was freaked out with the thought that could have been her three step children, would have been hers now, with their own mother being dead five years prior. We talked maybe half an hour. Later she thanked me for allowing her to vent some. She couldn’t explain what prompted her to call me but she was glad she did.

We ran into each other at the 2005 Commissioning weekend, which was at Hershey Park. I brought my mom and Nicole for the weekend. It was Nicole’s 8th birthday. We shared hugs but didn’t talk long. She had her two kids with her and nobody wanted to be standing still amidst all of the excitement. We talked and chatted some after that but haven’t seen her since. But later she proudly said I was her first Facebook friend. THE END!