All around the water tank
Waitin' for a train,
A thousand miles away from home,
Sleepin' in the rain

I love traveling. I think of wonderful trips of the past....camping with the
boys at Pokagon State Park (yes, I know only a couple of miles away..but
camping is camping!!)...traveling to Gettysburg and Nashville and Chicago with
them...working in Germany after my first year of college (giving nightmares to my
parents on that one!!)...spending summers with my Mom and dad and brothers
and sisters, all packed in one car singing and telling stories all the way to
California (how glad I am we didn't have portable televisions
then!)...girlfriend trips to New Orleans, Gulf Shores, Chicago...trips with Ellen to Scotland
and Ireland and everywhere else in the U.S. that storytelling was performed and
my first trip to Ocracoke...to Paris with Tonya...traveling with my sweetheart
to Savannah Dan the hostel in the forest and canoeing in Ocala
Forest...visiting my children as they meander around the U.S., Tampa, Atlanta, Santa
Barbara, Portland....traveling on my own, New York, Ireland, England....and the list
just goes on and on. It was once said that traveling broadens the mind, yes,
indeed it does.

I walked up to the brakeman
To shoot him a line of talk
He says, "If you've got money
I'll see that you won't walk."

Storytelling has given me the gift of research and travel...the home of Emily
Dickinson, the Robert Frost Library, hobos and engineers, Abigail Adams,
Maggie McDougall (OK, I made that one up!!), factories, cities, farms, countries,
continents....and here I go again. This Thursday I leave for my Carl Sandburg
trip. It is a gift of the Lily Endowment to study his route as a hobo and
photograph it as well.

"I haven't got a nickel,
Not a penny can I show."
"Get off, get off, you railroad bum."
He slammed that boxcar do'.

I'll be flying to Portland, Oregon to spend a few days with Abe and
Kristin...to see their lovely new house..their new puppy, well, probably a regular dog
by now. A chance for me to see where my youngest son has traveled to and
what makes up his life. I look forward to having tea in Kristin's kitchen, see
all of Abel's new technological advances and hear all of his dreams. From
there I board Amtrak to travel down the coast to San Francisco and L.A. for a few
days. I understand the train trip is stunning.

Nobody seems to want me
Or give me a helping hand.
I'm on my way from 'Frisco,
Just getting back to Dixie land

From there I head to Tucson and Abilene and Kansas City and Des Moines and
Chicago. Taking turns in hotels and just sleeping every other night on the
train. I'll look at deserts in bloom and new wheat fields...smokestacks of
cities... morning fog drifting across the tracks...cafes and diners...nights of
stars.

Now boys, I'm in your city,
I'm trying to do what's right'
Don't think 'cause I'm a railroad
bum that I am out for fight.

The trip will be long Dan probably lonely at times. I am going alone and
will just carry the necessities in my backpack...my journal, cell phone, camera
for the black Dan white photography that is at the heart of my project....an
extra pair of jeans, a raincoat and sweatshirt for cold desert nights. Coming
back home 12 days later, I'll piece together with art and story the hobo
journey of Carl Sandburg. Sunday Passage will have to take a hiatus while I am
traveling, but I'll tell you all about it when I return. Tonight's poem is
written by an unknown author in a collection of stories, Around the Jungle Fire
edited by 'Oats'.

So tonight I wish you a freight train to hop aboard....the lone sound of the
whistle...and an inky black sky to travel beneath as we start into this new
season of spring.

Love to all, Lou Ann

My pocketbook is empty
My heart is full of pain,
A thousand miles away from home,
I'll swing that next freight train.

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