Found Along the Shore

My bare feet step upon the warm and grainy sand
Of the ocean beach, my home.
I’ve been away
And this is the first barefoot walk
On the beach this season.
Sharp seashells poke the soles of my feet.
Sand fleas jump at my presence.
A light breeze blows off the ocean
Leaving my skin sticky, salty.
The sun shines warm on my shoulders
Even though it is September and
Fall is approaching.
I lean over to handle a piece of driftwood
Left smooth by the wind, water and sand.

Found a clam shell – white, purple and brown.
A snail shell, broken and sharp on one end.
A scallop, a mussel, a razor clam and some seaweed.
Found a mermaid’s purse – a skate egg case
And those little shiny shells
that look like toe nails.
I once strung some together on fishing line
And hung them from a tree.
Their quiet tinkling sounds
always bringing me back to the ocean.
Found some stones – one grey, one white, one pink,
And pocketed them.
Found a sand dollar.
Found the holes in the sand from “pissers” (steamers) spewing water
As the tide seeps slowly away from the shore.
Found a jelly fish, its bubbly body still and lifeless upon the sand.
Found the shell of a baby horseshoe crab,
This creature, too no longer alive.
Found my stride along the shoreline
As I walked, feet half in water, half on land,
Smelling the sea,
Feeling the sun,
Working my calf muscles upon the sand,
Molding itself under my feet,
Taking me in, welcoming,
Inviting me home.

Characters

Back home again in Indiana, I keep thinking about the train - the Cardinal Route from Chicago to NYC and back again. It was a LONG ride. An accident (our train hit someone!), slow speeds, mountains, and odd hours piled up to create annoying delays. But we made it through. Tired, but full of interesting experiences. Specifically with the people I met along the way.

There was a 21-year-old college student - feminist and anti-war bumper stickers plastered all over her laptop, combat boots, too many bags, and an attitude - that boarded the train with me in Cincinnati. Somehow we became friends along the route and shared conversation and coffee in the cafe car. I learned about her life, her boyfriend, her religion, her family....it's amazing what strangers will share with you.

Then there were the two men who boarded the train in West Virginia, a case of Budweiser stashed in their bags. Josh sat next to me and persisted in flirting with me the whole ride, calling me sweetheart and telling me he'd be better for me than my boyfriend waiting back home. Joseph sat across the aisle and spewed nonstop nonsense about the military, hunting, pot, his wife, Bunny, and all sorts of other vomit. At times I escaped to the cafe car just to get away from his incessant verbal garbage.

There were also the characters camped out in the cafe car - sipping beer, coffee and Mountain Dew. There was the visual artist who tried to convince his seatmates of the magical powers of mushrooms. There was the woman who was convinced that our train was cursed - citing the early morning accident, the delays, the train number and other factors to create the spell she believed was cast upon our train. And the group of men at the end of the car who downed Bud Light and talked about relationships, work, family, religion and politics. Eavesdropping on their conversations filled me with fodder for many stories!

There was the woman who locked herself in the bathroom before we even left the terminal in NYC, her yelling and banging to get out echoing through the car. To assist her, I simply told her to unlock the door.

Then there was the young guy on his way home to Kentucky from Maine after working his fifth summer at an arts camp. He had been traveling, he said, when he wasn't working at the camp. After his brief stop at home, he was heading for California.

Oh and I cannot forget the retired couple sitting in front of me who boarded the train in Philadelphia. They were headed on a cross-country train ride (all the way to Seattle), just for fun. The man (I wish I could remember his name) was fascinated with the train and could not sit still. He jumped around from car to car searching for information about the technology of the train, our route, the reasons for our delays, our speed, and more. He asked the conductors and other staff continuous questions, and made a point to get to know everyone in his vicinity. His wife, constantly checking her GPS device to figure out where we were and how fast we were going, did laps up and down the aisles from one car to another. She needed her exercise, she said, and had to get it when she could. In Cincinnati, this pair exited the train with me to pick up "Mother," as the man called her, to travel with them the rest of the way across the country.

And then there were the random meetings, the conversations I overheard, the passengers who constantly walked past my seat on their way to the bathroom or the cafe car. There was the screaming child at the front of the car, the woman who walked in on a man in the bathroom because he hadn't locked the door, the man who kept staring at me from a few seats ahead, the smokers, aching for the next cigarette break, and the man and his daughter leaving the train in Philadelphia, arguing about who would carry the extra bag.

These were characters, alright. And even though the train ride was LONG and exhausting and the delays were a hassle and an annoyance, I'd do it again for the experience, for the scenery and, most importantly, for the people you meet on the Cardinal train.

On the Road Again

I am leaving Wednesday for a visit back home to New Jersey. I am taking the train - 18 long hours - across Ohio, Pennsylvania and on into Penn Station in NYC. It has been a while since my last road trip. And though this one is on a train, rather than my preferred method of driving, I am still feeling all of the old excitement and anticipation of getting on the road again.

Songs like Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again", Janis Joplin's "Me & Bobby McGee", Fastball's "The Way" and The Indigo Girls' "Get Out the Map" keep playing in my head. These, and of course the classic Credence Clearwater Revival tunes are my familiar companions on the road. Back when we still listened to cassette tapes (yes, I'm old!) I used to make mix-tapes of my favorite road trip songs. Then when cds came along, I'd do the same thing. Now, traveling on the train cross-country (sort of) for the first time, I have uploaded my favorite cds onto my laptop and plan to kick back in my coach seat tapping my feet as I watch the country roll by.

I'll miss driving, I think. Given the choice I would drive anywhere. I've driven across the country quite a few times (often by myself) and have made numerous trips up and down the east coast. I've traveled through New England, the Midwest, all over Colorado, out to California, and many points in between and up and down. I love the freedom of it. I love taking rural highways and small country roads, stopping at roadside stands, exploring an unfamiliar town, and discovering unknown scenic beauties along the way. I love getting out my map to look for out of the way places, small towns and state parks & historic sites. I love being independent and going wherever I want to go - lingering a little longer at a site that interests me, taking a road I have never seen before, stopping when I want or driving on and on.

I won't be able to do that on the train. But it will be another kind of adventure. I'm excited. This is my first long train ride. I've never done it cross-country before. I really don't know what to expect. One great thing is that on the train, I can write.......so I'll let you know how it goes.

Appetites: A to Z (revised and still playing)

Appetites: A to Z

I have an Appetite for the rich and delicious blessings in life,
Feeding my Bountiful flesh healthy doses of Beauty and Burden.

The Creative hunger reveals the Core of who I Claim to be.
That Dreamy girl, with her head in the clouds,
But essentially, Earth-bound.

I wonder, will it ever be Fruitful? Writing
Those words on the page that keep me Grounded.

I am always Hungry for more.
Insisting I can have It all.
Wiping the Juice from my lips,
Like after a stolen Kiss, so delicious, you cannot tell
If it is Love or Lust or maybe just a Lie.

The Mass of emotions, a Mess
Leading me Neither here Nor there.
Like Ocean waves, bobbing and cresting, rolling and crashing.
Like Passion.

But then it is Quiet.
And I Rise to discover
That all is Still.

And though I Tell my Truth,
And share the Universal human experience,
And let the blood flow from my Veins,
I still Wander. I Wonder
Where to draw the X.

The desires of Youth keep me traveling.
And feed my Zestful appetite.

Appetites

So I just wrote a poem for my writing class tomorrow. To me it seems a little weird and I don't know if it makes sense or if it is really even a poem. But I'll share it anyway.....

Appetites: A to Z

I have an Appetite for the rich and delicious blessings in life,
That shape my Bountiful flesh into both beauty and burden.

The Creative one is the cornerstone of who I claim to be.
That Dreamy girl, with her head in the clouds.
But essentially, Earth-bound.

And I wonder, will it ever be Fruitful?
Those words on the page that keep me Grounded?

I am always Hungry for more.
Insisting I can have it all.
Wiping the Juice from my lips,
Like after a stolen Kiss, so delicious, you cannot tell
If it is Love or Lust or maybe just a Lie.

The Multitude of emotions,
Finding me Neither here nor there.
Like the Ocean waves, bobbing and cresting, rolling and crashing.
Like Passion.

But then it is Quiet.
And I Rise to discover
That all is Still.

And even though I have told my Truth,
And I have shared the Universal human experience,
And let the blood pour from my Veins,
I still Wander.

And I will never know where to place the X.
For my Youthful desire for adventure keeps me traveling.
And feeds my appetite for Zest.