it was one of those ideas that tumbled into place. the two of them — one intrepid, the other more than willing to follow — would set out on uncharted adventure. road trip, in the first iteration. brotherly road trip. but then, suddenly, as was the case long ago in one boy’s history, the rails beckoned. the city of new orleans, in particular beckoned. that’s the name of the rail line, the legendary rail line, as well as the crescent city itself.
a line made famous when steve goodman penned the song, and arlo guthrie, and willie nelson, and john denver covered it. a song that burrows into your brain waves and takes a few days to shake itself out. goodman wrote that “i’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.” but really it’s 924, give or take a twist in the tracks, from chicago to nawlins, meandering along the mighty mississippi.
and so, with a few clicks of the computer, tickets were had, bags were stashed with the few things a boy needs, and the days between soccer weekends were suddenly filled with visions of beignet and po’ boy and, because their grammy insisted, praline. old dear friends who know new orleans like the back of their hand, they dispatched guides to the back alleys and tucked-away treasures. and how perfect that a friend we love just happens to be restaurant critic/food writer for the new orleans times-picayune and, occasionally, the new york times, where his prose lures millions, i’m certain, to the eateries of his adopted metropolis.
we set out to union station monday night, where, according to the amtrak website, the dining car, the famed dining car that boasted of jambalaya and red beans and rice, it would welcome sleeping-car riders a full hour before departure. they’d be clinking forks and knives against china plates, sipping from crystal goblets, as soon as the sleek engine lurched out of the station, through the shadows of a city being drained of its daylight. or so they had every reason to think.
until we got to the counter where they check the tickets. and the lady barked, “oh no. not anymore. that website needs update. all they have now is express meals.”she went on to say the meals were “awful,” went on to explain that she was talking about pre-made sandwiches zapped in a microwave. she advised a trip to the train-station food court before boarding. and i saw the glimmer drain out of two pairs of eyes. i saw a jaw drop, i swear. but that lasted only an instant. they were set for adventure, and a boxed set of bread and cold meat couldn’t derail this duo.
we dashed up the escalator to scoop up the last helping of chicken fried rice, as the vendor closed shop for the night, then we grabbed two stale bagels for the price of one, an end-of-day deal at the bake shop. then, kisses all around, and hopes for the best.
the brothers were off.
the mother and father, not used to this absence of children, motored away. worried, if truth be told (and it always is around here). one or two of the boys was showing sign of distress. one with brewing case of heat stroke, a case that only started to surface the nearer we got to the station.
and, as is often the case in these parts, the narrative plot grows thick with unanticipated turns. so much for unadulterated joy ride.
it started out semi-comically enough when the door to their sliver-sized sleeper car decided to lock behind them as they set off for the dome car. took a train engineer, a dining car waitress named joy-ann, a porter, and a crow bar to get the door unlocked — more than half an hour later — amid a chorus of “never saw this before, not in 35 years working the train. door’s not supposed to do that.”
then, as night fell across the central illinois farmland, the heat stroke of the little one — the one who’d been up for soccer at 5 o’clock that morning, and had played two games on a field that shimmered with 100-degree heat — it got worse and worse, and he got sicker and sicker.
and if you think it’s hard to tend to the sick when they’re splayed out on the couch right before your eyes, you can double the duress when they’re on a train headed south, and you’re stuck home, farther and farther away by the minute. yes, there was a midnight phone call. or two. and yes, there were more in the morning. took the whole of a day before the kid could guzzle enough to slow his breathing, quell his tummy, and stop seeing stars.
and all along a brotherly miracle was underway. each one worried about the other, so much so that every time i talked or texted, the only thing they wanted to talk about was their concern for the other guy. and then, not long after hitting rock bottom, things turned around. i don’t yet know all the details, because as i type they’re rolling home through illinois farm fields, having left behind memphis, and mississippi’s delta, and the swamps and bayou of louisiana.
all i know is that they packed in as much as humanly possible in the 24 hours both were upright and breathing. i know there were po’ boys of various renditions, and something called “snoballs” that turned one of their tongues deep midnight blue for the whole of a day and a night, “no matter how many times i brushed my tongue, mom.” i know there were fried oysters, and an old man on a trolley who filled them with stories and a wallop of wisdom. i know they felt something “sacred” at preservation hall, where the jazz wailed deep into the night. and i know they warmed mightily to the slow southern pace. and the charms of the characters they gathered, like souvenirs, all along the way.
and more than anything, i know they got each other through one of those very tight tunnels, the kind where you can’t see the light at the end. and all you can do is hope and pray and wheedle each other forward.
we set them off on the rails in the hopes that they’d seal their holy blessed year with a cajun-steeped hallelujah, of the summery sort. we hadn’t thought one would be nurse to the other. weren’t anywhere near to witness where and how they discovered the magic. all that matters, though, is they figured it out. they fended for each other. one led, and one followed. and then the tables were turned. as is the way on any zydeco dance floor. as is the way in any life well loved.
welcome home, sweet boys. i missed you.
i love that photo above, “swamp king surveys his realm,” snapped by the older one — photo by will kamin, the credit would read — as they rode the rails home. the one in the photo, aka “swamp king,” was feeling infinitely better by then, the magic of nawlins indeed.
have you taken a trip that turned into far more of an adventure than you’d plotted? and what are the life lessons you carried home?
This adventure is now family lore. It will reign supreme as the grow and retell to their own families. As will your bravery by not chartering a plane to hover above. Not sure if I would be as brave as you.
Andrea Lavin Solow Sent from my iPad
drat, i didn’t think of helicopter. i did, though, imagine airplanes…..thrilled that they found resilience deep inside. xoxox
More than anything, I love the love your dear boys have for one another…. What an adventure, this trip – 924 miles there, 924 miles back, riding The City of New Orleans. (I have always longed to take this trip, all because of that wonderful song…) Blessings on the brave and beautiful brothers two and a big hug for the loving mama who celebrates their return. xoxo
bless you, sweet heart! just getting settled after a LONG day waiting at union station. sweet boys had six-and-a-half hour delay when the train broke down 14 miles from the end of the line. train didn’t budge, and no one on the train or at the station was explaining what happened or when it might move again. and while the train sat on the tracks, a passenger got so unruly about the interminable wait they had to call police and K-9 unit to board the train, and take away the passenger.
and, tragically, before that, during the night, along the rails in kentucky, their train had hit a pedestrian who had wandered onto the tracks. the boys didn’t know — we found out mid-morning. but during the long hours in the observation car, one of the other passengers filled everyone in on the middle-of-night accident. boys were devastated. conductor explained to them that these days, it is not as rare as you’d imagine….nor as you’d hope and pray it would be.
boys now safely home. a bit exhausted. and teddy still feels like he’s on a rocking train. but he’ll be suited up for soccer in the morning. and i’m keeping close watch on his very bad cold.
maybe we can take that train some day. and pack ourselves a mighty fine picnic to nibble as we hug the banks of the mississippi — your very own riverway…..maybe the whole table of chairs could some day ride the rails, one end of the line to the other…..
going to tuck in a sleepy rail rider now. xoxox
Your boys are such a wonder …
and so are you, beautiful nan. xoxox
Omg, I laughed and I cried!!! Those 2 are the best!! Yes what a way to seal the holy blessed year !! What a year it was !! To think these two had this memory together makes my heart sooo happy!! Just priceless!!! xoxo
Sent from my iPhone
it is such a wonder to wander down to my kitchen table all these miles away from where you read “the chair,” dear mary, and to find that you’ve wandered by, taken a whirl at the story of the week. i am so grateful for your every week’s reading, and this connection re-enlivened across the miles and years. i send love from my house — and heart — to yours. xoxox
Having lived in New Orleans for three years in the 80s, I can tell you there is indeed magic in that city.
Glad they made unforgettable memories and are home safe and sound 😊