As the train got on its way and as we started to build up speed, my Father was transported back in time. He has always been a traveler. In fact, he has been to each of the great 48, many of them via train. He instantly started recalling the “Good Old Days”, and the stories started rolling faster than the train itself.
I knew this would be the case, so, being a good caregiver, I made sure my journal was ready to go. Within a few minutes, however, I put down my journal and just listened. I decided to rely on my memory for my journal entries; I just didn’t want to miss this.
He recalled, and we talked, really talked. Sometimes we talked as father and son, other times it was just a couple of guys on a train. Every minute of it was absolutely fantastic.
The scenery flew by, the stories rolled on, and our appetites started growing. As I mentioned in Part I, even though traveling by train in a sleeper car seemed expensive, comparatively speaking it was actually a good deal.
One of the best parts was that our meals were included. Our steward (we actually had two and they were absolutely wonderful) brought us our menus, and we were both really surprised at the selection. We were both a little afraid of what the quality of this 3 course meal was going to be, but we quickly agreed that, no matter what, this was going to be a great meal.
My father has lost a lot of things over the past few years, but one thing that he has retained every bit of is his appetite. He opted for the crab cakes and asked for an extra one. I, being a growing boy of only 42 who needs his nourishment, opted for the rib-eye. With soup and salad to start and cheesecake to finish, we knew we would at least be filled at the end.
When the meals were delivered to us, all doubts about the food were quickly erased. His crab cakes were moist, flaky and delicious. My steak came out a text book medium rare. The sides were great, the cheesecake was, well, cheesecake (hard to be bad). It was truly a great meal.
As the night went on, we talked and talked. I was a little afraid my dad wouldn’t be able to hear due to the background noise of the train because he usually just goes silent when he can’t hear a conversation (he hates asking people to repeat themselves), but he heard every word.
Our train would be arriving pretty early. Since I knew it was going to take a while to get him ready (usually about 2 full hours), we needed to be up around 5:30am. I could have made it six, but I always get up at least 30 minutes prior to him so I can have some “Me Time” (and coffee time).
Transforming our cabin from a couch to bunk beds was, umm, interesting. The stewards, bless their hearts, really tried. After they had climbed on our luggage, the oxygen machine, the power chair and my Dad for 15 minutes or so, I finally had to stop them and asked them to let me figure it out. It was pretty easy, and we laughed over it quite a bit.
When it came to sleeping, all of my expectations were surpassed. The beds were more comfortable than I thought they would be, my Dad’s snoring was louder than I expected and the train ride got pretty rough in the wee hours of the morning. Even still, it was a great night.
When rise and shine time came rolling around, I woke my Dad and got him ready for the day (after a good strong cup of coffee). Our stewards brought in a very nice breakfast, and before we even finished we were rolling in to Union Station, Washington, DC. We were off the train with our luggage handled by a porter in a very short period of time.
Next stop was our hotel. It always amuses me that what we think will be the easiest is always the hardest. Here is an interesting little tid-bit of information: our nation’s capital is not very wheelchair friendly.
It’s true. I thought I would just go to the front of Union Station and flag down a wheelchair transportation vehicle and off we would go. After all, millions of veterans visit here. I would have bet every cab in the city was wheelchair capable. It’s a good thing I didn’t bet because I would have lost the farm. We finally found a van that was able to accommodate our luggage and medical equipment, and my Dad, but there was no room left for his power chair and, well, me.
I’ve grown pretty accustomed to thinking on my feet and just doing what has to be done. Our hotel was only about a half mile away and easy to find. This was easy to do but for one problem; I’m about to trust a complete stranger with a lot of expensive medical equipment and MY FATHER! God really gives us no more than we can handle.
Just then a police officer came over. She asked what was going on and then immediately pulled out a pad of paper. She wrote down all the details of the cab, and I do mean all of the details. She then had the driver giver her his identification so she could record this as well. She radioed in a complete description of my father and me as well as the driver and a thorough explanation of what was going on. She then handed the driver’s wallet back to him and as he grabbed it she held tight and said, “If anything happens to these two, I know where you are.”
After that, I felt pretty comfortable letting my Dad go with him. As I walked down the street steering his power chair beside me, he drove down the street, at walking speed, right beside me. I felt like we were in a parade.
When we arrived at the hotel, our concierge greeted us along with two porters. I really cannot even describe the level of hospitality that was shown to us. We were up in our room in a flash. I unpacked some of his things, but we both wanted to get out and see the Capital Building, which was only two blocks away. But first, it was lunch time.
As I read off the list of restaurants to my father, I told him that he had clearance from his doctors to go off his cardiac diet for the duration of the trip. I told him “Dad, the sky is the limit. What would you like your first meal to be on this trip that you’ve wanted to take for over 50 years?”
He looked at me with his big blue eyes and a huge smile on his face. He licked his lips. I knew he had mulled it over and decided the delicacy for the afternoon. He answered…
“McDonalds!!!”
(…More to follow)
Hi William,
Honest to goodness, I am ready for a train trip! It sounds wonderful.
And, if your experience with the police officer doesn’t prove there are angels on earth, I’m not sure what will.
I wonder: What was the most interesting thing you learned about your dad during the train ride?
That is such a great question Denise. It’s really difficult to choose one particular thing because he told me so much about himself that I really didn’t know.
If I had to pick one thing, it would have to be the discovery that my Dad has kept so many emotions bottled up all of his life. In the next installment, I will be talking about our trip to the World War II monument. Until this trip, I just thought my Dad must have had it kind of easy during the war because he never talked about it much. He never seemed to have the old war stories that so many of these great men and women have.
As I ask myself the question you posed, I would have to change my answer. I discovered what an incredibly strong man my Father is, but with all of his strength, he is human.
Wow!! I got goose bumps reading your answer. Wow!
Well, I’m very, very anxious to read Part III. Don’t make me wait too long…