Skip to main content

Room With A View

For more than two decades, I have had the same view.  When I was in elementary school, my parents bought a house.  From my bedroom window, I could see the end of the street.  Just beyond that, I could see train tracks … where freight trains passed, chugging down the tracks at all hours of the day and night.  No matter how loud the whistles were, they rarely bothered me.  The sound of train whistles became as common as car horns on neighboring streets.

When I moved to an intown apartment, my bedroom had a large window.  From that window, I could see the end of the street.  Again, just beyond that, I could see train tracks, where other freight trains passed at all hours.

I have just moved to another apartment.  This apartment also has a large window that looks out … onto a courtyard.  There are no train tracks.  No whistles can be heard.  For the first time in almost thirty years, I will not live near train tracks.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Olympic Memories

Twenty years ago this week, I - along with my family - was sitting in my house watching the Opening Ceremonies of the Summer Olympics.  I have always loved watching the Olympics, but this time was different.  This time, the Games were not on some far-away continent.  These Games were in my own hometown!  In fact, just the night before, I had been in Olympic Stadium - now Turner Field - watching the dress rehearsal for what I was watching on tv.  Now, twenty years later, some of my most vivid memories remain: The seemingly always-crowded highways of Atlanta were practically desolate, providing a seldom-seen sight. Meeting the Frenchman who wondered if I had ever heard of the book about the Civil War written by an Atlanta woman named Margaret Mitchell. The dress rehearsal crowd cheering wildly during the parade of nations for the entry of the flag from (the nation of) Georgia. Attending the women's gymnastics podium trials, watching the Magnificent 7 prepa...
Post a Comment
Read more

Playing Slots

             It is impossible to win on these machines, I thought.  Playing an airport slot machine is basically throwing away money, I was certain.  But, I had a long layover between flights and was looking for a way to pass the time.  I could see the neon glow of the Las Vegas Strip through the windows, but I did not have enough time to make that trip.  Despite my doubts, then, I sat down at a quarter machine near my gate and dropped in one dollar.  That was all that I would spend, I assured myself.  If nothing else, I would not be out much money.               I sat at the machine and, every few seconds, pressed the blinking button that sent the rolls spinning.  I would win. . . then lose. . . then win the small sum that I was playing.  When I looked and saw that I actually was ahead, I decided to q...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Quiet Place

There was no broad stretch of highway crowded with cars full of eager beachgoers, just a two-lane road cutting through a canopy of trees.  There were no souvenir stands, just one small general store.  There were only a handful of restaurants, and, in fact, only one bar on the entire island, and it was a 10-minute drive away.  Getting to the beach was a matter of stepping out of the apartment and walking a few hundred feet, to the edge of the Gulf. But, those walks led me to some of my fondest memories.  For the two weeks I spent on this island every summer, I would make that walk almost everyday.  However, my favorite walks happened before the sun rose.  I would drag myself out of bed; throw on a bathing suit and sandals and, with my father and often at least one of my siblings, head out the door. We would make our way along sandy pathways, the last hints of nighttime starting to fade away.  As we neared the Gulf, the sand benea...
Post a Comment
Read more