More on Maine

I had a weird problem with the wi-fi in the Bowdoin College dorm where I stayed in Brunswick, Maine, and wasn't able to post. I'll do something more on the trip soon, but for now here's a little stream-of-consciousness writing that I did on Thursday the 12th while riding on the train from Boston up to Portland.

Thoughts and Sights from the Downeaster 9. A friendly crew on the train—not necessarily the norm so far. Bradford's open-air platform. Graffiti. Haverhill: "Jewel of the Merrimac Valley." Mr. Bob passes out stickers to the busy kids in the seats in front of me. Geese on a pond. Chuck, the ticket-taker. Green trees and underbrush in sandy soil. Jethro Tull's "Songs from the Wood" in my earphones, followed by U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name." The girl in the seat across the aisle asleep, hair covering her face so that she looks a bit like Cousin It. Train tracks from the air must look like stitches across the backside and underbelly of the Main Street world. We're in the forest now. Thinking about my song "There Was Always a Train." Jewett's General Store and the East Kingston Library. Whistle of the train as it approaches crossroads. I want to be out of these clothes I've worn since yesterday morning. I want to take a shower! Trains look into people's back yards, where they keep their junk, where their children play. Exeter platform in Exeter, New Hampshire, heading toward Durham, NH. Listening to Speaking of Faith on Heschel, in which he says in a speech something like this: "In the first conference on religion and race, the main participants were Pharaoh and Moses." I'm reminded by the group in front of me that, while I like my own children, I don't often feel the same about other people's children, especially when confined to a train for two hours—of course, like me, they're going to the end of the line. Chuck announces Durham, NH, as next on the line. A couple of hours ago, I stood on the Orange Line train in Boston and looked over the shoulder of a young man reading the Qur'an, Hadith 35, on brotherhood. I have now (at 10:35 a.m.) been traveling for 24 hours straight! Chuck says that the next stop is Dover, NH. Heschel: the primary purpose of prayer is not petition, it isn't petition or requesting but worship and singing; it might not save us, but it can make us worthy of being saved. Weeksie's Pizza: 742-5055. I see a big brick church here in Dover; it is Saint Mary's, and a funeral is going on there. I couldn't read if it was a Catholic or Lutheran church or something else. "Some are guilty, but all are responsible." I'm going to get a snack. After learning that the Portland train station had little to offer in the way of food, I went ahead and had lunch here—a personal pizza and a Diet Coke. Chuck announced Wells and Saco, Maine. The nerves of the parents in front of us are wearing thin and the kids are spinning out of control with 20 minutes left to go in the trip. Good luck to them! Saco, Maine, is beautiful and seems—from the train—a quaint and peaceful town. Hey, I just saw the ocean! I looked out one side of the train and saw a putt-putt course and wondered why that was here. Then I looked out the other and there was the big blue water. And the train stopped at "Old Orchard Beach." Okay, so the parents have taken away all hopes of dessert from Carson, their oldest. As if he now has nothing to lose, he's going wild. We have a little mini Coney Island or Myrtle Beach between the train tracks and the ocean—rides, the "Pier," hotels," beach supplies. Wait a second—Wasn't JAWS set in Maine? This train ride is coming to an end, so I'll pack up and post this sometime later today or tomorrow, depending on Internet access.