Do you suppose there’s an Amtrak train to heaven?
Kathleen and I were discussing this in bed Sunday before Sam woke up. It was one of those rare golden Western Washington mornings and even though it was time to get up and make coffee, I was reluctant to start my day. I wanted to languish in the luxury of lollygagging. Since Amtrak and other trains go by here regularly only about a mile away, we hear the echo of their whistles across a nearby lake all the time. What is it about a train whistle that makes you think about travel? Even travel to heaven?
Kathleen said she didn’t think Amtrak went to heaven. Besides, she said, Amtrak would be kind of a slow way to get there and she wanted to arrive in the blink of an eye so to speak. But I think once I died I wouldn’t be in that great a hurry.
I reminded Kathleen of the saying that a great deal of the joy of traveling is not necessarily arriving at one’s destination, but rather the journey getting there. I wouldn’t mind riding Amtrak to heaven. Even if the trip was kind of slow, what would be my hurry? I mean, if I’m dead, I’m dead. Right?
I would just hope that the scenery enroute to heaven would be more enjoyable than the scenery between Lacey and Portland, Oregon. A couple years ago Kathleen and I rode Amtrak to Portland for a weekend. I had been really excited to view the scenery along the way, but big disappointment, most of what we saw on that trip was people’s junky backyards strewn with old cars, garbage, dog detritus and other junk. Gees!
I’d like to take Amtrak to Whitefish, Montana, though because I’ve heard that’s a really beautiful trip. But who knows? I wonder what kind of scenery I’d see on the way to heaven. There might be a pristine river and tall trees and snow-capped mountains. There might be a nun’s rock where women plunged from the top of the rock into a deep pool in the river below to prove their love for God and come out all cleansed of sin. There might be a drive-through cloud and a souvenir shop where you could buy pure gold crucifixes at rock-bottom prices. Maybe there would be a mini-golf course where you would be a winner no matter how badly you played. Of course there would be a fountain of healing water - that’s a given. I like to think there would be a donut and coffee shop too.
I bet you Sam would like Amtrak. He could sit up by the big windows, watch the scenery go by and bark at stuff. He loves to go for rides. Every time he thinks I’m preparing to leave the house he gets all wound up. The problem with taking him anywhere is his separation anxiety. As soon as I exit my truck and leave him for a few minutes he goes totally barking ballistic. Of course he might not be so willing to ride Amtrak to heaven with me. But I bet if I got off the train he would want to go with me.
Two bags of poop on Amtrak if it doesn’t go to heaven; it does seem to have a pretty limited schedule and number of stations. Excuse me now I have to retrieve my harp from the luggage compartment.
Kathleen and I were discussing this in bed Sunday before Sam woke up. It was one of those rare golden Western Washington mornings and even though it was time to get up and make coffee, I was reluctant to start my day. I wanted to languish in the luxury of lollygagging. Since Amtrak and other trains go by here regularly only about a mile away, we hear the echo of their whistles across a nearby lake all the time. What is it about a train whistle that makes you think about travel? Even travel to heaven?
Kathleen said she didn’t think Amtrak went to heaven. Besides, she said, Amtrak would be kind of a slow way to get there and she wanted to arrive in the blink of an eye so to speak. But I think once I died I wouldn’t be in that great a hurry.
I reminded Kathleen of the saying that a great deal of the joy of traveling is not necessarily arriving at one’s destination, but rather the journey getting there. I wouldn’t mind riding Amtrak to heaven. Even if the trip was kind of slow, what would be my hurry? I mean, if I’m dead, I’m dead. Right?
I would just hope that the scenery enroute to heaven would be more enjoyable than the scenery between Lacey and Portland, Oregon. A couple years ago Kathleen and I rode Amtrak to Portland for a weekend. I had been really excited to view the scenery along the way, but big disappointment, most of what we saw on that trip was people’s junky backyards strewn with old cars, garbage, dog detritus and other junk. Gees!
I’d like to take Amtrak to Whitefish, Montana, though because I’ve heard that’s a really beautiful trip. But who knows? I wonder what kind of scenery I’d see on the way to heaven. There might be a pristine river and tall trees and snow-capped mountains. There might be a nun’s rock where women plunged from the top of the rock into a deep pool in the river below to prove their love for God and come out all cleansed of sin. There might be a drive-through cloud and a souvenir shop where you could buy pure gold crucifixes at rock-bottom prices. Maybe there would be a mini-golf course where you would be a winner no matter how badly you played. Of course there would be a fountain of healing water - that’s a given. I like to think there would be a donut and coffee shop too.
I bet you Sam would like Amtrak. He could sit up by the big windows, watch the scenery go by and bark at stuff. He loves to go for rides. Every time he thinks I’m preparing to leave the house he gets all wound up. The problem with taking him anywhere is his separation anxiety. As soon as I exit my truck and leave him for a few minutes he goes totally barking ballistic. Of course he might not be so willing to ride Amtrak to heaven with me. But I bet if I got off the train he would want to go with me.
Two bags of poop on Amtrak if it doesn’t go to heaven; it does seem to have a pretty limited schedule and number of stations. Excuse me now I have to retrieve my harp from the luggage compartment.
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