NY Loves Boston: Messages of Support Light Up Brooklyn:


Yankee/Red Sox Rivalry on Hold (Huffington Post):




My blog posts for Pine Village re. last week’s events:

April 18, 2013:

April 23, 2013:

This is surreal. I’m sitting here in my kitchen, hearing helicopters flying overhead and listening to the police scanner as they talk about a manhunt that is about four blocks from my home. As Kelley keeps reminding me, there is a river between there and us, and there’s no way this guy can get across that river. Of course, then he tells me, there’s no way they were acting alone, which isn’t exactly helpful.

Will is in the living room watching Netflix and occasionally complaining that he wasn’t asked if he’d like to go to CT (as if we’re anywhere near that happening right now), and he’s pretty much refusing to get dressed anyway. At this point, I feel like if I get a chance to get in the car and leave, he can go in his pajamas, no shoes, and deal with it. James is watching Youtube videos, which is great, except when they’re of fire trucks and police cars and I can’t tell if the sirens are on the iPad or outside. And Lucy, mercifully, is asleep, otherwise she’d be glued to the scanner just like I am. And I don’t think that would be good.

The cats are freaking out, which makes me wonder if they know something, or if it’s just because they can sense how jittery we — or, rather, I am. (The river, Kelley keeps telling me. There’s a river.) I keep expecting to look up and see someone with a gray (or black, or white, depending on what thread I happen to be listening to at the time) hoodie run by my window. Or appear at my front door.

I realize that I am being entirely useless. Although I am sitting in the middle of the chaos, I can’t quite bring myself to get James some cinnamon toast. What if there’s an urgent update between when I walk to the toaster and back? But it is reassuring to be watching the helicopters circle — yes, I’m close enough to be watching them circle, Holy good Lord — on that side of the river and not this one. But I am listening to the talk of getting a bus in to evacuate residents and realize that they are talking about my friend and her husband and baby, Lucy’s cello teacher and family, James’ daycare.


‘Tis the season for Christmas lists galore, and as I am asked what I want for Christmas, this year I find that it’s not stuff. As anyone who has stepped foot into our house in the last, oh, 18 years, knows, we are drowning in stuff. And although I really, really like (and am quite grateful for!) the stuff I have, I think the number one item on my list this year is that I would like some time to actually just deal with the stuff so that I could then enjoy it.

That thought alone made me think about what else I would like that isn’t stuff-driven. So, with the caveat that the true first item is for my kids and family and loved ones to be happy and healthy and all that, here is my 2011 Christmas wish list:

  • Someone to come into my house and clean my bathrooms with no judgement (either about the bathrooms, the house, or the desire itself for someone else to do it)
  • A limo equipped with wireless and a driver who doesn’t talk to me
  • The ability to tell people off with a Southerner’s charm
  • A deck that is a) designed in a way that is actually usable, and, b) not falling apart in the white-trashiest of ways
  • Three additional hours per day during which time for everyone else freezes so that I can get things done without being distracted or tempted by things that are much more fun than what I’d be doing during those three hours
  • The ability to write the above sentence in a much more concise way
  • Someone to put Christmas lights on our house and decorations on the mantle in an almost-but-not-quite gaudy way
  • Patience
  • Someone who will gauge the daily family temper and cook healthy, well-balanced, and yet yummy meals that appeal to everyone and do not include either peanut butter or jelly
  • A week in a not-too-isolated beach cottage so that I can write
  • For Marc Blucas to star in the movie of the best-selling book that I will write there
  • The ability to gain weight during pregnancy and lose weight AFTER having the baby rather than the other way around
  • In the absence of the above (and since there aren’t any more babies coming), the ability to take those extra 50 pounds and give them to an Ethiopian child who really needs them
  • For the world not to end in 2012 (or at any other point, for that matter)
  • A family compound on Cape Cod so that we never have to have the discussion of who gets what room again
  • Enough money to create a trust fund that pays for everybody to come
  • Transporter technology (of the Star Trek kind, not Galaxy Quest)
  • Earrings

As hard as it is to believe, James is 1 today. And although I had intended to remember Every. Single. Minute, I have of course neglected to write things down/organize the pictures/imprint everything on my brain. So I thought I’d take a few minutes to write down some of the things he’s doing now in hopes that I can at least capture a little bit of a picture:

Words: His first word was “uh-oh,” although some people have questioned whether that counts. Since he used it in the appropriate context, I decided that, yes, it did. (I will not mention that he moved from “correct context” to throwing things off the edge of things and saying “uh-oh,” which, yes, disputes the whole statement, but still…) “Buh-buh,” whispered almost under his breath, and a wave represented “bye-bye.” It was said on the same day as “uh-oh,” but not used again for about a week. He now waves quite easily, but the actual “buh-buh” is saved for special occasions. “Ma-ma” came next, but I’m still not sure if that means me; sometimes it means a bottle, sometimes he just keeps saying ma-ma-ma-ma-ma as he putters along. The newest one is “moe,” meaning “more.” This most definitely means bottle, although he also uses it occasionally when he just wants something.

So, at one year old, his vocabulary consists of these four words. At the same time, he makes it extremely clear  when he wants something and is not being attended to.

Walking: He is now at the point where he is taking 2-3 steps at a time and then collapsing into whatever (hopefully soft) thing he can find. He thinks this is all quite exciting, and often laughs hysterically while doing it. (Or perhaps is laughing hysterically at us as we lunge towards him, trying to prevent him from knocking his head on the ground.) Whenever possible, he is on his feet — whether that’s finding a toy or stool he can push around to use as a walker, something to hold on while he makes his way around the room, or someone’s hands as they walk with him. Even crawling involves being on his feet, as he never got down the hands and knees part, but rather just sticks his butt in the air and walks around on hands and feet. Surprisingly (or, I supposed, unsurprisingly to anyone who has been through this stage before) he is incredibly fast. I was trying to make spaghetti sauce tonight before Kelley and Lucy and Will got home and found that I could do one thing (turn on the oil, throw in the garlic, dump in a can of tomato sauce, etc.) in the time that it took for him to get from the sink to the bottom step of the back stairs. I have to say, it made making dinner a much more active process than I am used to. Then again, I’m not exactly what you’d call used to making dinner, so it certainly wasn’t the worst of things.

Food: James wants to eat whatever it is that you’re eating.  Sometimes, as with his birthday spaghetti dinner, this is fine. When you are munching on an apple, however, not so much. (Actually, we tried with an apple — paper thin slices, then diced — but it was still too hard for him to eat. For now we’ll stick to much softer things.) He has complete disdain for baby food and only allows you to feed him from a spoon if it’s something that requires his adult companion to eat with a spoon as well — like yogurt. (And forget that whole Yo Baby thing. He sees the baby on the container and laughs. He wants the grown-up thing.) We have taken advantage of  all the Gerber toddler snacks and finger foods, which do seem to work. Puffs and yogurt melts are particular favorites. This is indicated by the way he suddenly leans as forward as possible when he sees them, sticks a fist up in the air, kind of like a “Charge!” gesture, and starts yelling, “Moe! Moe! Moe!”

Teeth: Four at the moment, two bottom front, two top front, but if his drooling and fussiness over the past few days means anything, more are imminent.

Demeanor: I have to say, James is generally a pretty easy-going, smiley baby. Although he does cry when he’s unhappy, he doesn’t really have a tantrummy alter-ego  the way Will did. (Um, does.) Although he does seem to be having a little bit more stranger and separation anxiety these days, he’s generally quite friendly and open with anyone he comes into contact with, and absolutely loves his big sister and brother. (The way he lights up when they come into a room is wonderful. And to see all three of them when they’re cooperating together? Priceless.) He’s rarely fussy for a prolonged amount of time, so far the only major exceptions being when he’s about a week away from teeth coming in. This week is actually almost the fussiest I’ve seen him, which I think is a combination between teeth and walking — that whole thing where major milestones also create enough upheaval in a baby’s life for them to show unhappiness about it.

Sleep: For the most part, he goes down without much fuss between 7:30 and 8. He does wake up occasionally, so it’s not like he’s a perfect sleeper (and I’ve of course guaranteed a bad night tonight), but he generally sleeps through until the next morning. By next morning, however, I mean 5:30/5:45 a.m. And according to the sleep “experts,” that’s the equivalent of sleeping through the night. We’re waiting for the day where James is old enough to keep Will company downstairs so that our two early risers can do their thing, while the rest of us sleep in.

What else? He bleats like a lamb when he’s excited. And then he squeezes his fists together, holds them in the air, and tightens up completely. Once I got past worrying that it was some kind of seizure, I thought it was great. (The daycare people love it. The daughter of the woman who runs the daycare tries to think of things that will attract his attention just so that he’ll be excited enough to do it.) … He likes to put his feet up and relax. Whatever he can find to rest his feet on, the trays of his high chair and stroller are particular favorites, he will. When we take him for a walk in the stroller, he grabs on to the stroller above him, puts his feet up, and is ready to roll. … Unlike Lucy and Will, he’s not a particular fan of being in the car. In fact, that’s one of the few times he just cries and cries. It’s gotten better as he’s gotten older, but until we’re actually moving, he’s not entirely happy.

The hair: Two haircuts before age 1, but the mohawk is still there. (see above)

Well, I’m sure there’s a lot more I could post, but I’ve been up since quarter to six this morning and I’m pretty damn tired. (Plus I’ve probably jinxed myself out of any decent night’s sleep tonight.) So, happy birthday, James. We love you!

I began this letter as we worked our way across New York state this morning, on the last leg of the train portion of our trip. Although we still have a week left of our time away from home, I thought I’d take this opportunity to reflect on our train trip across the country and back. So without further ado:

Dear Amtrak,

Having spent the last three weeks traveling from Albany to Los Angeles and back — a large portion of which was done by train — I’d like to first say that, overall it has been a pleasure. With all of my grumbling about waiting for the train to come on the first leg of our trip, someone asked me why I would ever want to do a trip like this. And, with the two day trip from L.A. to Kansas City nearly resulting in a family room meltdown, there were moments when I did wonder myself. But in looking back, I have to say that I would do it over again. I might try to arrange things a little bit differently, but, yes, I would do it again.

As our train attendant, Peggy, said yesterday, there’s nothing like true train people. They are open and friendly and warm and engaging. To my deep happiness, I’ve found that they are not overly chatty, but instead, at least in my recent experience, seem to be able to tell when one is in a conversational mood. The lounge/observation car is often the scene of these discussions, but I found that taking advantage of the 15-minute “smoking” stops at various train station platforms along the route counted for some of my most vivid memories. The town in Iowa that first night after Chicago that was 100 degrees and humid, the little town up in the Rockies where almost the entire sleeper car got out for a walkabout, and Lamar, CO, where Lucy and the 13-year-old from L.A. (“but I was born in New York, so I’m really a New Yorker”) talked about the differences between a childhood in California (“I’ve never seen snow”) and Massachusetts (with Lucy describing what Cape Cod is to a Californian who didn’t know Mass. had any beaches). I’ll also fondly remember our neighbors in the California Zephyr sleeper car — the 60-something musician couple traveling from festival to festival and the 70-something beyond sweet couple who were on a vacation to the west coast and who sang along until the train attendant came down and told us that we were making a little bit too much noise and all instruments needed to be moved to the lounge car. (I will also, however, not-so-fondly remember our original Southwest Chief neighbors who took one look at our kids and asked to be moved. I don’t think they smiled or even acknowledged our presence once in our 12 hours of shared journeying. Ironically, they and their two teenagers did manage to make more noise closing the doors of their roomettes than I thought was possible, most of that between the hours of 11 p.m. and 5 a.m. when they finally detrained [to use railroad parlance]. I must admit, if James was going to pick a night to wake up at 4 a.m. and cry for an hour due to a tooth coming in, I’m glad it was that one. I’m also happy to say that the Sourpusses replacements were a lovely woman from Kansas and a couple of semi-retired college professors traveling with their 20-something daughter — real train people all around).

Another major plus is watching the scenery roll by. As I told Lucy and Will (in order to entice them away from their electronic devices): there are parts of the Rockies that can only be seen from the train. There are literally no roads, no people anywhere else for miles around. And coming up out of the New Mexico desert into the Colorado canyons (training directly through the aftermath of a forest fire no less) while eating a surprisingly good oven-baked chicken dinner is quite a memorable experience, not to mention watching the countryside change from state to state to state.

With that said, oh mighty Amtrak Powers That Be, I do have a suggestion or two that might make the entire experience just a teensy bit better for your passengers:

1) Is it really that hard to get wifi service on your trains? If busses and commuter rail have it, then why can’t the cross-country trains? You’re already using satellite service for the credit card machines in the cafe and dining cars, why not tie it into a wifi hotspot and let your passengers take advantage?

2) The second most egregious downside is the lack of cup holders; even baby stroller manufacturers have figured this out. It’s hard enough to convince travelers to choose trains over other modes of transportation. A lack of cup holders does nothing for you. And yes, I do understand that it’s probably ridiculously expensive to retrofit a fleet of trains, but having the current (i.e., newer car) cup indentations be an inch deep rather than a centimeter doesn’t even come close to cutting it. I hear that you’re ordering up a whole new set of ‘revenue cars’ (i.e., sleepers, dining, and lounge cars, a.k.a. we’ve-got-you-where-we-want-you-and-may-as-well-commit-highway-[or maybe train]-robbery-with-our-prices cars). Once you’ve got the safety and logistical things down, I’d make cup holders be the next thing on the list.

3) Along those lines, the space usage in the sleeper cars could be much improved. First of all, there is nothing but dead space underneath the cup [non] holders. Why not break through the indentation, provide a basket-type thing, and, voila, you have yourself a cup holder? Similarly, install some of those cargo-net-type things up and down the walls and sleeper passengers will have something to place their books, phones, etc. in as they drift off to sleep. The current rimless shelves are a sorry excuse. And kudos for the numerous coat hooks in the cabins, but make them just a bit heftier and they become hooks for the purses and bags that otherwise take up precious space on the floor. These are just some obvious things; a yacht or space designer — or, I’m sure, any one of the attendants who spend their days and nights living out of the rooms — could make some huge strides in making the roomettes more livable.

4) Along the lines of customer service, there’s a lot of opportunity as well, with communication being a major issue. Having the PA systems work consistently throughout the trains would be a start. Having the conductors (and lounge car and coach/sleeper attendants) use them regularly would be a close follow-up. For example, all the involved parties on our California Zephyr trip were excellent: the lounge car attendant was wonderfully welcoming and jolly, the conductor regularly informative, and the lounge car attendant reassuringly present. I found it made the trip both homey and comforting, despite the part about getting stuck in a remote area of the Rockies thanks to “track work” whereas the last leg if our trip – the east bound Lake Shore Limited – was silent and, IMHO, kind of isolating.

5) It’s great that you have a seat-assignment process on the long distance trains west of Chicago. (And maybe east — my only recent experience with coach on the east side if the country is going to NYC and that tends to be first-come-first-served.) It would be nice, however, if you mentioned it somewhere along the way. And, yes, granted, it might be in the literature somewhere (although not anywhere I came across it), but even so, maybe the people that sold us the thousands of dollars worth of tickets (or maybe the people who do the checking in part, or the conductor who takes the tickets in the station, or even the coach car attendant who sees the family of 5 that includes three young children, one of whom is an infant, waiting patiently for, oh, TWO HOURS on the floor of the Kansas City train station, in order to get four seats together on a train that’s been occupied since Los Angeles and merely tells us not to get on the train yet) could mention it. Because it sure would be a lot better to know that in advance than it was to wait for the two hours, rush us all to the train so that we maintained our place at the front of the line, find four seats together, only to find put that they’d been given to someone else. Just sayin’. (A special shout-out to 18-year veteran Southwest Chief attendant, Peggy, who, even before learning that we hadn’t in fact been two hours late to catch the train, promised us she’d get us the four seats after some people got off at the next stop.) Even better? Assign seat numbers when you sell the tickets. If my daughter’s dance recital can come with assigned seats, so can a major transportation outfit. I have faith. It would make a lot of people’s rides a lot more comfortable.

6) When you change the starting station of a massively long train trip from Boston to Albany, how about proactively telling folks rather than having them find out because they checked their itinerary online and then called to make the correction. Although we appreciate that you would have bussed us between the two stations, driving was a much better option for us for a variety of reasons. I’m glad we happened upon the information in time for us to plan accordingly.

7) And, finally, let’s talk about train stations, of which you have some beauties. The Chicago, Kansas City, and Los Angeles Union Stations all have some spectacularly beautiful features. The great halls in Chicago and Kansas City are gorgeous, as is much of the detail throughout the buildings, and the leather art deco seats and tilework in L.A. are a surprising and welcome detail. It’s unfortunate that the more recent updates have almost entirely nullified them and rendered them almost entirely inactive. I truly do understand the need to do something about, say, the mightily unused space in K.C. once train travel became supplanted; using large portions of the station for exhibit and theater space most likely saved the building — which I think I read was the third biggest in the country at one point. It’s a shame, though, that the entire Amtrak presence is now relegated to a tiny, out-of-the-way back set of cramped, poorly used rooms. At the very least, someone could remove the no-longer-used information desk (lovely detail though it may be), and allow room for passengers exiting trains to actually exit. As it now stands, they must push their way through people waiting for baggage claim, people waiting to check-in for a train, and people waiting to board. Not a great system.

8 ) Redcap stations would also help. Cross country travelers — even those who are not us — have a lot of bags. Trying to figure out where to be is hard enough without having to also wrestle with bags. In L.A. having an 11- and 8-year old who could stay with bags while one of us returned the rental car and the other tried to figure out where our train left from ended up being key if a little bit unnerving. (With Security neither allowing us to keep the car parked in front of the station once it was unloaded, nor to linger with our bags, we didn’t have much of an option.) (Speaking of which, the Security Dept. at L.A.’s train station is On Top Of Things. Boy, do they keep you moving along!) Although there was actually a well-placed Info Desk (unlike the one in Chicago that is located deep in the bowels of the station, found only after elbowing through the crowds waiting in all the lines that you figure out before you even see the word ‘info’), redcaps were nowhere to be found. As it turns out, they patrol the station and driveways of the station on the lookout for passengers in need of assistance. It would have been nice to know this; it also would have been nice to just be able to go and find someone to help us. Instead, I ended up trekking through and around the station twice only to finally pay $4 for a minuscule luggage cart. Not until the cart was back out by the luggage did I see a redcap to flag down. And as we began loading her cart, who drives up with another redcap but Kelley, who had flagged one down on his way back from the Hertz counter. It was a waste of their time and ours.

Chicago, another big city station, was similarly frustrating. After my first trip to the Info Desk (thus my awareness of its location), I waited ten minutes for their promised paged redcap. I then went back inside and wandered around until I found two men sitting on drivable luggage carts — confusingly, they weren’t actually the people with the red shirts or caps — and decided to interrupt what appeared to be a break in order to ask if they knew where I could find someone to help us. Only after being assured that, yes, I had a lot of bags, and, yes, we were checking some and then traveling in a sleeper, did one of them indicate that he was one. I won’t even mention the guy in Kansas City who was surly and almost completely unhelpful. (On the flipside, once you find a redcap, they are usually invaluable. In Chicago, the guy actually bypassed the line and checked our bags for us. In Albany, our redcap provided a lot of valuable information about what was going to happen where. And I’m sure that tips had nothing to do with it.) Since we didn’t actually depart from or arrive in Boston’s South Station, I can’t from experience say they’re that much better. What I can say, though, is that when I have been there, they are visibly lined up and ready to assist. I will therefore take this opportunity to say that both South Station and Albany-Renssalear seem to have it figured out in terms of station use and design. Their info desks are easy to find, redcaps are visually accessible, and there is adequate sitting, waiting, and moving-around space. Plus they have easy-to-see arrival/departure boards.

Which brings me to (9), my last point: let’s just accept that the train is going to be late. It became clear that the trains are always late. In a way, it’s kind of like that Jimmy Tingle joke about the cost of stamps. To paraphrase: “For [whatever the current price of stamps is], a guy takes a letter from your house , puts it on a plane [boat, train, truck] and takes it all the way across the city/country/world and hand-delivers it to the door of the person you write to — for less than a dollar. Think about what a latte costs. A stamp is kind of hard to beat.” Similarly, Amtrak is traveling over 100-year-old lines, with a fleet of decades-old cars, with a staff of friendly and welcoming attendants/conductors/etc. And, for the most part, they get you there safely despite old tracks, old trains, mudslides, forest fires, tornadoes, and floods that they can’t switch routes mid-stream in order to drive around. Plus, they don’t actually own the tracks they run on and therefore need to often pull over to let a freight train (or two or three or four) through.

So, Amtrak, quit acting like the pre-2004 Red Sox in a constant state of defeat. Yeah, you’re gonna be late: own it. Tell people right off the bat that things run a little slower on the lines. Put some cup holders in, turn on the wifi, and just let people know what they’re in for instead of slipping it in on the B side and shirking away when they find out. After all, if they’re train people, they’ll likely just hang out in the lounge car and chat for awhile longer while watching the scenery roll — or not roll — by.


Jennifer Doyle
Lake Shore Limited, California Zephyr, and Southwest Chief passenger, July & August 2011

P.S. We apologize for the trail of ground up Special K and Frosted Flakes left in the carpeting of our various cars on trains across America. And for the spilled can of Sprite, LSL, Car 4820, Room 3. (But, Herb, we were never in Aisle 4.)

Turns out it’s hard to keep up this blog while actually doing things. I suppose that the doing things part is the whole point, but it is still a little frustrating. It’s especially so when we are driving through nowhere (one of these days I’m going to write a post about defining the middle of nowhere; turns out, there’s nowhere, and then there’s nowhere) but there’s no power or no Internet connection–which, in the middle of nowhere, actually happens quite a bit.

Anyway, here I am, typing and missing the pretty beautiful scenery on the way from L.A. to visit our friends in Glendale, who we haven’t seen in two years. (And we still aren’t going to see Cathy, who is going to be in the East Coast the one time in the world we’re actually in California 😦 — sigh. But anyway…)

[insert 6 hour break]

O.k. Here we are, back on the road again, this time heading south to Carlsbad, CA, so that we can visit Legoland. If I had realized how far it was from L.A., I might not have offered this up as part of the trip. Yet it was offered, and here we are, experiencing a small taste of traffic (‘small,’ I’m sure, given that we’re actually moving), on the I-5, heading south. How, you wonder, did we get here? So kind of you to ask. Let me share.

So there we were yesterday afternoon, headed from Vegas to Hoover Dam and not looking forward to the drive back to Kingman, AZ, lovely as it may be, just in order to hang around for 7+ hours to catch a train at 11:46 (or so) p.m. (As it turns out, Hertz does not have a rental car drop off in Needles, CA, which would have been much more convenient.) And then I called to speak to Julie, Amtrak’s lovely automated lady, to check the train status. Good thing I did: the train was running two hours late. As we contemplated spending a large (and potentially larger, given Amtrak’s track record) [ha! I just wrote track record without even realizing it] portion of our evening with all of our bags in the Kingman, AZ train station, only to have to work our way through a packed train to find four seats as close as possible together in our one coach part of the trip, it occurred to us that we could actually just drive to Vegas. People do it all the time. (At least they do in movies, which is pretty much our entire knowledge of anything westerly related, but still…) In fact, if we did drive, we might actually be able to make it to L.A. before our train was even scheduled to depart, much less actually going to, given the delay.

(This wasn’t part of our original plan because we had intended to do the Skywalk over the Grand Canyon on our way from Vegas to Kingman, as the turn-off is on the way. What we didn’t know then was that the ‘turn-off’ also required another, oh, hour and a half before we’d actually get to the Skywalk. And that if we went to the Skywalk, we wouldn’t get to see the main part of the Grand Canyon. And that it costs $86. All if these realizations led to another itinerary change two days before, but that story is for another day. That said, because we were no longer constricted by the Skywalk details, we weren’t really tied into the Kingman train. Yes, it all comes back to Kingman. Or not, as the case ended up being.)

So driving to L.A. it was.

One of the things that has struck us over and over again on the trip is how amazing it is to have an iPhone. (Or any smartphone, I’m sure, but Apple is our poison.) It wasn’t just that we were able to figure out that not going to Kingman was an option, but we were able to pull up a list of hotels within striking distance of Union Station (where we had to exchange rental cars), read the reviews, and make a reservation for the night, all while tracking our progress in Google maps. When we needed a pit stop (or to find the nearest In ‘N Out burger), we just put the necessary details into AroundMe. And, using a combination of the two, when an oasis of light appeared in the darkness, we could identify not only what it was (Baker, Barstow, Victorville), but what amenities it might provide. It wasn’t just handy — after making a last minute decision to drive five hours through the desert, knowing where we could get gas was essential.

After an initial psych-out of the lights of Victorville (and what exactly is Victorville, anyway — I’d heard of all the other towns on the way; never V-ville, though), we came up over the hill and then saw the lights spread out below us. I took a billion pictures, not one of which did it justice. Heading into downtown was cool (wasn’t that the building in Die Hard?), and we were still close enough to midnight that the area wasn’t entirely ‘sketch,’ as some of the reviews said. The one hang-up was a crazy line at check-in thanks to a group who had shown up right before us whose reservation had been entirely screwed up. I felt bad for them, but not enough so to not enjoy the feeling of crawling into the bed and pulling the covers over me, a full hour (and counting — the train ended up being at least five hours late) before we would have ended up even getting on the train. It was worth Will’s frustration at not being able to go in coach — something “I’ve never gotten to do in my life” — to be in that hotel bed.

I have to say: I was quite impressed with how well the kids took the change in plans. They like to know exactly what we’re doing and when we’re going to get there. As Will told one of the gentleman in the check-out line at our Vegas hotel, however: “we’re a traveling family.” And as any traveling family knows, you’ve got to go where the road takes you.

As I think I mentioned earlier, the road is now taking us to Carlsbad, and, should all go well, to Legoland tomorrow. Since we’ll be traveling again tomorrow evening — this time up to Anaheim — I might even be able to post about what we did on the day we did it. One never knows.

So, as they say in California (or, at least, in Debbie Boone’s family): hasta mañana.

So the first thing I have to say is, holy cow (no pun intended, given that we are now fully in cattle territory) but this is a crazy-beautiful way to see the country. Even with the somewhat overcast day, the train ride through the Rockies (at some points literally [see Moffat Tunnel]) is spectacular. Although I’m posting this from my phone and therefore don’t have access to the majority of (better) pictures I took, I do have one or two that I can share here:




The coolest part of this is that, for a lot of the route, it’s clear that there’s no other way to see these areas — there’s train track, mountain on one side, and canyon/river on the other. That’s pretty much it. There aren’t any roads for a major stretch, and although I’m sure there are climbers who have ventured into the territory, there just aren’t many people in the world who have seen that part of the Rockies. And now we’re a part of that.

(O.k., yes, I realize there’s a little bit of ‘my car climbed mt. Washington’ in it, but still, it’s pretty neat to realize that we’ve now seen a part of the world that isn’t easy to see. I didn’t even mind the height or the drops so much because the view was so amazing. There was a moment when I realized that there were a lot of areas that had no trees or vegetation surrounding them, just rock. And that that rock was the result of avalanches, of which there was no guarantee we wouldn’t be experiencing one up close and personal. I just tried to think *really* hard–no avalanche, no avalanche, no avalanche. Thank goodness that when Will said, “hey! Cool! You think we’ll see an avalanche?” and Lucy answered, “I hope not, because then we’ll probably be dead,” that neither one seemed particularly concerned about it. I’m not sure I would have been of much use if they’d needed reassurance.)

Of course, the flipside of being in such a remote area (and having relied on a big honkin’ machine to get you into it rather than your own two feet) is that, when the train comes to a stop in an area with nary a road or a dwelling within sight and no cell reception to be had, and the conductor says something about just being told that we’d need to stop for an indefinite amount of time because of that dreaded ‘track work’ (which may or may not entail digging up and replacing track before we can proceed), well, it’s not the most confidence-inspiring. Thank goodness, our delay in that case was only about 30 minutes. Otherwise panic attacks may have ensued.

With that delay, we are now about 7 hours late (and counting, thanks to the flooding Missouri River, freight train cos. owning the tracks, and the inevitable track work) Grand Junction. But, you know? Having Lucy and Will be a part of this is pretty fantastic. (“Yes, I’m making you get off the train for the stop in Fraser, Colorado. Yes, just because I want you to breathe in the cool and refreshing air.”) [To which Will replied, “Not so refreshing when the train is polluting it.”]

So I will leave you with this picture of Lucy at the train station in Glenwood Springs, CO, only two hours (one hopes) from our destination for the evening.


Good night, all!