The E Train went by underground, shaking the floor, the glasses on the bar. The kid standing next to me looked startled.

June 11, 2013

The Human Interest Magazine For Evolving Minds

Santa Fe Dreams

The E Train went by underground, shaking the floor, the glasses on the bar. The kid standing next to me looked startled.

“When I was a kid the Santa Fe freights used to wake me up,” the kid said. He seemed lost and kind of lowdown when he said it.

We were strangers, standing at the rail of an uptown joint in the snow bound northern city where I grew up. I had come home to visit my father. He was in the stroke ward at the nearby hospital. It wasn’t going well between us, Dad and me. It never did.

“I can still hear them ol’ freights, like rolling thunder,” he said.

After awhile he said he used to wait for the circus to come to town. “Yeah I get that.” I said. “We would go to the Garden, just down the street, and watch the clowns”. I told him how the clowns scared the hell out me, how I thought that my dad thought it was funny that clowns scared me. Later, much later, it turned out it wasn’t true he thought that.

The kid looked at me like I was a crazy old man or maybe just drunk. “I used to hear the circus coming from miles away” he said, “I could hear the calliope from way far off. Folks in town would stop what they were doing and listen. Get ready to party.” Then he stopped, as if caught up in a dust devil memory he shook his head and said very quietly, “they would get a funny look in their eyes, maybe thinkin’ it was something more than the end of summer, more than another year gone to harvest.” He was quiet after that.

Before I left I asked him where he was from. He told me he was from a little town just outside of Denton, Texas. I told him I knew where it was, that I had heard the Santa Fe freights rolling by, that I had stayed awhile and moved on. I wished him well and went out the door. I walked down the once familiar streets to the uncertainty that was waiting at the hospital.

I didn’t tell him that I had been in Denton because I was running for cover, drying out, getting clean. That the trains in the night sounded like all things lost, that lonesome was a way station on the road back from where I had been.

 

Photo Credit

Photo Is © Michael Lebowitz – All Rights Reserved

 

Opt In Image

Did you enjoy this article?

Please let the author know by leaving them a comment below!

And, subscribe to our free weekly digest!

Simply add your email below. A confirmation email will be sent to you.


Recent Michael Lebowitz Articles:

avatar About Michael Lebowitz

I write and take pictures because it is my way of telling stories. I run because it reminds me, everyday, that I am here. I have no idea where the writing comes from.

What I do know is that I start with what I know and imagine the rest. In the end some of it is true and some of it is made up; memory plus time equals semi-fiction, others call it creative non fiction. And if the “I” in the piece has a different name than mine, it is fiction through and through.

My photography tells a story in a very different way. The pictures seem to come from who I was and what I care about. When the words are coming honestly and the pictures are sharp and knowing, the stories tell me who I am today.

I also write at Running Before Daylight and my photography can be seen at The Long Run Picture Company

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT

*

Notify me of followup comments via e-mail. You can also subscribe without commenting.

Site maintained by Synaptic Systems Inc. - Using the STUDIOPRESS Genesis Framework under WordPress