traveling, part 6 …

… in the roomette, on the Amtrak ‘Crescent’ from Atlanta, GA to New Orleans, Louisiana. Departing ATL at 9:08am, and arriving in NO after dark around ten o’clock, having done nothing all day long but sit, read, get fed pre-fab meals from the dining services. Probably actually prepared by the same people who do the contract catering for one of the major airlines flying out of Hartsfield-Jackson airport around the clock, around the globe. Delivered by a very friendly employee/steward? to the tiny roomette we had reserved that was barely big enough for two adults to stand at the same time.

We had questions, he had good answers as he had been on the job, working for the Amtrak system for nearly two decades, taking the train from NO to NYC and back every four days. Based in Louisiana, he gets on the train expecting to travel for up to twelve hours to get to Atlanta, then continue on up the Atlantic seaboard through Washington and on to New York. This is a four day job: with the crew working four on/four off before they start back on the same route again.

End of this particular route is NYC, where the company provides housing, and the crew has about a twenty hour lay-over before they get back on the train to return to New Orleans for a four day break before doing it all over again. Other routes will vary with the length of time and distance from one end to the other. Taking orders for meals from travelers, who have a pre-printed menu of options: breakfast, lunch,dinner, and delivering the meals (in take out containers bagged by room number on each side of the aisle by the person in the dining car who sorts and packages). Nicely appointed dining car: linen table cloths and bud vases with fresh flowers on each table. The workers/hosts?/porters? have some cleaning chores, as most railcars have two tiny rest rooms, and a shower in each car. They are required to have the rooms in their assigned car ready to roll for the next shift/steward to just climb the steps, welcome riders.

The plan was to get on board, find seating and enjoy the scenery: looking out the windows as we traveled the rails from north central Georgia to the bottom of the ‘boot’ arriving in New Orleans to stay for two nights and then return to Atlanta. The day in=between devoted to touring the exhibits at the National World War II Museum, located within a couple of blocks of the Mississippi River. Expanded over the years to nearly fill two city blocks, with some permanent displays focused on either European campaign or the story of island jumping in the Pacific war battling entrenched Japanese forces. Also several temporary/long term but not permanent exhibits – one currently displaying dozens of preserved, original cartoons by noted illustrator and war correspondent Bill Mauldin, creator of infantrymen Willie and Joe.

This is wahat that tiny space looks like with both beds made up for overnight travel. Only room for one person to step inside the room and climb into a bed at the time.
This is one of two sleeping places found in each roomette, after it has been made ready. There are these straps that keep sleepers from falling out.
A tiny little fold-out table for food, dining up against the window between the two seats. People sitting on each side fill find their knees nearly touching, shuffling to make room for everyone’s feet. Not unbearable, but gets cramped after twelve hours – a trip down the narrow hallway to the rest room is a relief in more ways than one….

It seems quite possible that the train we traveled on for nearly twenty-four hours from Atlanta to New Orleans and back again does not actually any of the rails we were traveling on. And equally possible that the rail companies that DO own the different sections receive payment for other trains using their tracks. Not sure how it works, as the part where someone is responsible for keeping up with who,who long, how many cars, how frequently that competing business makes use of ‘your’ tracks is far to convoluted for the average human. I cannot imagine how anyone, without benefit of some type logistical plotting or algorithm or computer program designed to hold a mountain of information could manage the challenge.

traveling, part 5 …

… on the passenger train across the southeastern corridor from Atlanta to New Orleans, Louisiana. Basically on what might be considered a ‘lark’ or joy riding – but not like getting on your bicycle to go to the store for a Snickers or PayDay bar. Which is the sort of excursion a teenager might take on allowance day, just because you can, right?

There is a senset the scope of the project has grown over the years, expanding in size and quality/number of exhibits, both permanent and rotating.

With a running conversation about taking a jaunt on a train, and interest in things of a historical nature, the decision was made to combine the two: ride the Amtrak to NO, LA and spend a day at the WW II Museum. Reading details of Dr. Google, supplied by questionable AI sources. The Museum opened in 2000, started as uniforms, journals, letters found in attics, newspaper clippings, military paraphernalia, medals belonging to older veterans.

Many items donated, becoming part of a growing collection, accumulated by noted author Stephen Ambrose, and fellow historian Dr. Nick Muller, with encouragement by President Eisenhower. Apparently Ambrose was a young, ambitions college teacher, who approached the then President about helping to organize his personal papers, with the possible idea of accessing for Ambrose to assemble the documents in some fashion for later study/use. Reportedly Eisenhower expressed his desire to recognize the service men and women who were part of that ‘Greatest Generation’ – individuals who returned from active service to families, jobs, ordinary life after their experiences in Europe and the Pacific.

Eisenhower showered much praise on the man who is credited the development of the landing craft seen in the black and white snapshots and grainy video films. Those photos were displayed on the screens as the doors opened, where visitors viewed the decades-old film. Images of the first wave of military poured out in shoulder deep water on the beach of Normandy.

Known as the ‘Higgins boat’, it was built in a ship yard on the banks of the Mississippi River in New Orleans. A product of Higgins Industries, with the official military designation: LC,V,P (landing craft, vehicle, personnel) designed by the ship-building company of industrialist Andrew Higgins. Eisenhower believed that the landing on the beaches of France would not have been successful, without the boats transporting troops across the English channel, literally altering the course of world history.

traveling, part 4 …

… to Louisiana, viewing a special exhibit at the WW II museum, relating the history of the USS New Orleans, as it was involved in the fight against Japan in the Pacific Theater. Two films available for visitors to view (for a fee, after paying admittance): one narrated by Tom Hanks about WW II in Europe and the Pacific, and the other movie about the history of the USS New Orleans. Apparently the designation of the ships’ name can be reused as older vessels are retired, as there is more than one ship that has been given the title over the decades.

Starting with the Navy in WWII, when the Japanese blew into Pearl Harbor in the Hawaiian Islands and decimated the Pacific Fleet, sent from the California coast to the mid-Pacific,. The current version of the USS New Orleans is a San Antonio class vessel designed to transport Marines for fast deployment, shipping vehicles as well as logistical support. It is actually the fourth ship to be christened under this name, and was built in New Orleans at the Avondale shipyard, now known as the Avondale Global Gateway (at one time the largest employer in the state of Louisiana.)

The first USS New Orleans: severely damaged by a Japanese torpedo that literally destroyed the bow of the ship. The Heavy Cruiser was at the Battle of Guadalcanal in the south Pacific, when the magazine/munitions storage on the front/bow was hit by a ‘long lance’ torpedo that detonated fuel tanks. Amazingly it did not sink, even with 150 feet of the bow missing. The ship limped nearly two thousand miles to Australia, in reverse, where temporary repairs could be done. With enough work done there to get it to the US coast where there is a ship yard in Puget Sound. While the New Orleans was en route, damaged, chugging in reverse, the ship builders had been fabricating a new bow to military specifications, based on plans for a sister ship the SS Astoria, long before the actual arrival of the damaged boat.

That missing section of the bow was recently found by divers. Covered in coral growths from decades of salt water. Where it has laid on the ocean floor since November 30,1942. There are photos available online, showing the open compartments where the metal was sheared off from the bow.

All this trivia courtesy of wikipedia, and generated by AI, the world worrier that is filling our heads with flotsam and jetsam. Also: Dr. Google, who might be making stuff up out of whole cloth to weigh us down and drown our senses with useless information.

book review: “I is for Innocent”…

… by Sue Grafton. Well-respected and prolific writer of novels featuring the hapless PI Kinsey Millhone, recurring in the many books written as Grafton used letters of the alphabet as inspiration for the titles of her tales. Millhone lives in the fictitious town of Santa Teresa in southern California, where she rents a small apartment from Henry Pitts, a retired baker. After working in public safety and as an investigator for an insurance company, Millhone has trained and acquired a license to become an independent private investigator.

Although the title, used by Grafton as a prompt to build her tale around the letter ‘I’, proclaims innocence: no one really is. The characters all seem to have secrets, something to hide, not fully coming clean about their past experiences. Unwilling to be transparent about possible misdeeds that could be incriminating, so they choose to keep others in the dark, declining to reveal.

The teenager joy-riding in the middle of the night keeps a tragedy to herself, living with guilt, a mistake she will never fully be reconciled to. The friend of Millhone who helped her get the PI training to become an independent contractor is not who he appears to be, and proves that his history is clouded with dishonesty. The character we as readers are lead to believe is the culprit, protagonist is not the person we expected as his story is revealed.

traveling, part 3 …

… to Louisiana, to visit the WWII museum. With pre-purchased tickets for a couple of movies and planned wandering through static exhibits around starting times for the two films: one of which was produced and narrated by Tom Hanks. Exhibits were divided by ‘fronts’, as the US was involved in fighting two entirely separate foes at the same time. Starting with trying to support England in their opposition of the invading Germans, through Lend/Lease programs that provided supplies including food, equipment like airplanes and ground vehicles as well as arms and munitions.Then suddenly that unprovoked attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, where the US Navy was decimated in Hawaii: a necessity to recruit men and provide ships to defend against the Japanese.

Buying tickets for special events on line seemed to be a goof idea. To be able to walk up to the ‘will call’ window, give a name and get service. As well as this little device to attach to clothing that would prove paid admittance was a smart move.

Graffiti left all over Europe by American GIs

traveling, part 2 …

Arriving at the Amtrak station in New Orleans after riding for ten hours, the skyline of NO. At the other end of the building where the Amtrak arrivals come into the facility, is a Greyhound bus depot.

… The World War II Museum has been mailing ‘invitations’ to contribute to their fund-raising challenges since it first opened in 2000: thereby becoming a charter member of the organization. Not one with the resources for corporate giving like the Boeing company or the family-owned Higgins Boat company that started making landing craft in the early 1940s supplying those personnel carriers you see in black and white stills of Normandy Beach. Or even the distillers of fine beverages that could make a donation to be recognized for providing the elevated walkways above the busy surface streets from building to building.

The museum was originally opened on June 6, 2000 as the ‘D-Day Museum’, with a focus on the events of that day in history as the Allied forces crossed the English Channel and approached Normandy Beach. With air support of bombers and paratroopers, as well as hundreds of vessels bringing men from the south of England onto the beaches of France in a surprise attack, the casualties were horrific: but ultimately successful. Congress designated the building complex here in downtown New Orleans as the National World War II museum in 2003.

The several buildings covering nearly two city blocks in downtown New Orleans, are almost in rock-throwing distance of the Mississippi River. With cantilevered, glassed-in covered walkways connecting the buildings that are an obvious asset to visitors, as well as making the entire complex ADA compliant for guests with varying degrees of abilities. Including older people with military service who would find the displays touching, memorable, and well worth the visit.

Interesting to notice the paint on the fuselage: viewing from above it would look like earth, and viewed from earth, it would look like sky.

traveling …

… on the train, from the Amtrak station in north Atlanta to New Orleans on Tuesday, November 2. Which is a nation-wide election day for those interested in political campaign promises of those who will influence policy in the US in the coming years Long before the rabbit hole adventure of the summer, plans were made and tickets purchased. Dates marked on the calendar, with great anticipation, looking forward to an amusing excursion with good company for entertainment along the way.

My personal ‘train travel’ experience is very limited. As a youth growing up in the ‘boomer’ era when travel was primarily by family vehicle, usually in the back seat, with a older brother constantly, consistently harassing a younger sibling. Most travel was limited to driving across south Georgia to summer vacations, occasional forays into north Florida, as well as a tag-along when my mom was sent to get supplies needed for my dad’s self-employment.

There is a tiny little Amtrak station on a corner of Peachtree and Canal Street overlooking I-85 in north Atlanta. With wooden benches that appear to be original furnishings, as they surely have a hundred coats of paint. There were maybe a dozen people sitting, waiting for the arrival of the passenger train when we arrived, an hour early to be sure we did not get left. A fellow passenger reported riding the train was less expensive than taking a bus to his destination from Atlanta. Possible– but it will certainly take longer, than a bus going 80 mph on the interstate.

Interesting trivia about train travel: it is possible for it to whizz along at 140 mph. Nothing we experienced, as we spent a good deal of the time shunted off onto sidings, waiting for a series of railcars traveling in the opposite direction to pass. Maybe out west, or on the wide flat plains of mid-America, but top speed for Tuesday for the eight hours we were traveling between Atlanta and New Orleans was about eighty mph. Of course, during that time we were: eating (being fed off a menu of prepared foods), or napping, or reading, or walking from car to car along with dozens of other travelers.

A great way to go to Mardi Gras without having to plan for a designated driver!

The schedule indicated the train, with dining car, as well as cars for passengers to sit, and roomette, or the option of a more expensive sleeper for those truly interested comfort in it for the long haul. Breakfast as well as a packaged lunch were served in the roomette, which was a tiny space with two bench seats and knees nearly touching. In the dining car for dinner, although it too appeared to be the sort of meal one would expect on a inter-continental flight from a catering company.

The man providing service in our rail car, possibly with the title of ‘porter’, was someone who said he has been doing the work for nearly two decades, very friendly, courteous, well informed. Providing all the attention and answers, specific details about train travel we could ask. New Orleans is his home, but he makes the trip every four days from NO to New York and back: four on, four off. About a twelve hour layover in NYC before the crew will board for the four day return through DC and Atlanta to return to NO. Lots of questions answered: he said it takes about ten people run the route – from engineers and conductors to the people who provide services for paying customers.

The route was interesting and scenic. Lots of colorful fall foliage at the beginning, gradually transitioning to planted pine forests as we rode south across Alabama and Mississippi. A small wild fire at one point, creating dense smoke, but hopefully managed by those men in the pick up trucks on site. A vast acreage of man-made ponds that might be a large turf farm, where an endless supply of water would be needed to keep sod growing year round as it is harvested and replanted. Miles and miles of mixed hardwoods and evergreens in undeveloped areas across four states. It was too dark to see by the time we crossed the vast surface of Lake Pontchartrain, but that will be the start of the return to GA.

There were miles and miles of tracks where new, replacement ties were scattered. Apparently by crews in anticipation of getting the weathered damaged ties replaced with the new ones that will last for decades of trains rattling along that section of tracks. Passing along sidings where everything from newly completed automobiles, to tank cars filled with chemicals, and box cars loaded Amazon goods. One place where rail workers were in evidence had sections of iron rails already attached to the wooden lengths of wooden ties. With the spikes already in place to hold the assembly together. It will obviously take a crane traveling along the tracks to help move these pre-fab, ready to set into place these replacement parts. But will also shorten the amount of time necessary to get the ties in place, as well as the labor required to replace the wood one piece at a time.

There were so many interesting sights seen, glimpsed in passing as we were rattling along at forty or sixty mph that I wished we could circle around to see better: houses, or signs,or vehicles whizzing past. Or even intriguing bits of graffiti on walls, bridges, other rail cars barely viewed without truly reading. Oddities of such unusual qualities but only briefly caught in passing without enough time to really see and digest.

Sitting along the edge of the tracks in a small town in lower Alabama, likely restored by some local train buffs.

book review: “Hunting Badger”…

… by noted author Tony Hillerman, who spent many years living, researching, writing about the indigenous people of the Colorado Plateau. The vast high desert area’ in the southwest US where the four states of Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah intersect at the Four Corners. Hopi, Navajo, Ute and other tribes live on reservations and government land scattered out across the area that has historic significance for the natives: where they associate origin stories and their mythology/religious history with the landscape of mountains and dry, desolate infertile thousands of acres the benevolent ‘white father’ in Washington gave as a consolation prize when the tribes were forcibly relocated.

A well planned heist has occurred at a casino on Indigenous property, with carefully thought out sequence of cutting power to the building, going in when there will be ample small bills for the thieves to circulate without notice. A smooth getaway, even though it brings a vast array of public safety men to track and trace the criminals.Men: in positions of authority, who think they know it all, and you cannot tell them anything: BIA, FBI, State Police, DA’s office.The hold-up guys disappear into the rugged terrain, leaving a damaged vehicle, but little evidence of where they could be hiding.

Hillerman’s characters work for the Navajo Tribal Police. Joe Leaphorn is recently retired, a mentor for Jim Chee. The two accumulate clues other law enforcement men overlook: why was the vehicle abandoned, how did they disappear without a trace, how long have they been planning the heist. Leaphorn is a veteran of years of law enforcement, a man who believes there is no such thing as a coincidence. Using maps that depict the geography and landscape of their native lands, Leaphorn looks for patterns, as things repeat over time – as well as listening to the elders and oral history: stories that repeat, handed down from one generation to the next.

voting, part 3 …

… as a teenager, barely old enough to register: Wanting to express my opinion so badly, I actually went to the county clerk’s office in the court house on my birthday to complete the paperwork and be ready when the next opportunity came along. As a hard-headed, argumentative, oppositional teenager, a person with an abundance of opinions about the way the country should be run. Given the chance- what sort of mess would we have been in had my ignorant self been in charge, right?

Here might be a good place to insert the confession of walking around with a forged driver’s license in order to appear old enough to purchase alcoholic beverages. Without a single nod to scruples, or even the tiniest measure of guilt: changed the year of birth on the paper-and-ink copy of the permit that would prove me of the age to be in the liquor store and buy the beer those under-age patrons were not allowed to purchase. In another century, during the era of hand-printed paper (about the weight of card stock) where the GSP officer who was doing the driving test completed the form. The man in the uniform would fill in the blanks, handing over the small slip of paper to the grinning sixteen year old. No photo attached, nothing laminated, no copy on file, just tuck that little ratty little piece of colored paper to slip into your wallet that would prove you’d done the work to pass the test.

When old enough to register to vote, as a college student, living in dorm space far from the county of residence, I had to get an absentee ballot. Available now for nearly any half-baked reason: or none at all as some states send written ballots in the mail to every registered voter who is a resident. In Colorado, for instance, where I have realtives – who report everyone who is is a registered with the state to has received a printed ballot. In addition to being able to appear on election day with proper documentation and be allowed to vote.

Not so easy for Tennessee voters who have to meet criteria like being over a certain age, living out of state, being in the military, handicapped/disabled or one of several other claims that would disallow attendance on election day. Curious now, all these years later, to know how many of the eighteen and nineteen year old students far from home actually cared enough to request and return the absentee ballot.

That paper ballot received as a student in middle GA at a small community college, also required a signature by a witness to confirm the vote was done by the person it was addressed to. It seems like the ‘official’ who had to sign was maybe the comptroller? A person with some degree of authority, for sure.

The ballot, for a once-every-four-years general election was huge: bigger than a double page spread of the average newspaper. Filled with candidates for local office, as well as county-wide, state and national positions. Wishing now for precise measurements, but really having no frame of reference for the size of the paper the detailed options of candidates was printed on, only that it was so being quite large. It might have been the poor-quality newsprint found in actual newspapers, something that is getting scarcer by the day: it’s all on line, provided by the internet, or on electronic devices. With that sheet of printed paper fully opened, completely unfolded, it seems like the size was a wide as my arms could reach – and now: on a little tablet for the voter to easily access, make a decision and put a slip of paper in a slot as they walk out the door, back into the world.