The Side Effects of Endorphins

You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?

I wrote previously about my joy of riding trains in Europe.

Sketches Of Berlin (7)

There is a certain mystic to riding trains. Here is the story I from a dusty album at a yard sale.

Train Song

I believe most of us are familiar with the stories of Winnie the Pooh and even Calvin and Hobbes. It is a story of a little boy or a little girl who has imaginary friends and adventures within their imagination. We do that with music as well. I bought a crate of random albums. I was glad that I did. I found an old country record by an artist named Charlie Pride. Who does not love a remarkable story and country music certainly can tell them. I sat and listened to a song called “When the Trains Come in.” The story is so unbelievably simple and sad, and I started reading a little bit between the lines. That is what a good song does for us. It weaves a story. In the following interpretation I included actual lines from Charlie Pride and then I put myself on that train station waiting for my girl to come home.

We have all been, I know I was.

Another lonely day is almost gone the sun is going down again and you are still not home

She was mad at me and has been mad at me for a long time. I can barely remember when she was not mad at me. This time she sounded so much more serious. I really cannot do anything about her not loving me anymore. I am older lazier, fatter, and wiser. Here I sit around this lonely house, and the sun sinks quicker every single night. Thegrasshoppers and frogs sing their song with or without me. I sit, rocking in this chair, the floorboards quiver, and the blinds bang against the windows. It is an angry blustery night, and it sends a chill up my spine.

I want to go look for her, but I do not know where she is. I want to call her, but I do not have a coin for the payphone. I have an old shirt she left in the bed, and I let the aroma sink into my head. There is a whole drawer full of these. She took all her underwear except one pair that was thread bare and holy. Well, at least spiritual to me.

I sit here. I drink and I ponder. I look at the stars, and they we’re winking back at me sarcastically. I want to put on the country radio station, like my heart, the radio stays broken. I hear the train whistles as they head out of town. It is a sorry small town which has plenty of tickets out of town, but nobody coming into town. The only train that comes into town is the 1110 from that little fishing village up north and believe you me I will be there standing on the platform when the train comes in. I have been there every day since she left. The people there they recognize me and give me a knowing tip of the cap. The train business is a desolate business, and I think they like customers like me. It gives them something to root for. At least I can make their day.

The last of the trains have all come in but I will come back tomorrow and wait again.

It was another lost day. The rain soaked me straight down to my underwear. The large drops from the platform seemed to be aiming for the tip of my nose. My attire gets worse with each passing day. TodayI wore a pair of threadbare pajamas, and the top does not match the bottom. I brought her favorite whiskey hoping it would warm her when she got home. She was not there.

Melancholy titans attired in business suits parade confidently off the train. One even gave me a dollar, and I must have looked pathetic. A young lady walked off the train playing a ukulele. I liked what she was playing. It was a sad song about raindrops falling on your head. A blind woman came off the train with her dog leading the way. She knew her direction in life much better than I. I wanted to ask her if she saw my girl, that is a clear indicator of my state of mind. The custodian at the train station swept a few stubborn cigarette butts between the cracks in the station platform and gave me a puzzled look.

There is a new bar in town where the young and hip gather. Instead of a dartboard, you can throw axes at targets on the wall. I will drown my sorrows there and throw some axes at the intended target. At least I will not be able to hear those train whistles in the far-off distance because I know I will be there again tomorrow.

 

I know the conductor he thinks I am losing my mind.

I have friends in quizzical places, and the conductor is one of my closest friends. We converse about nothing, and he listens attentively. I dangle participles in every sentence I use. It happens and you arewaiting on a girl in a train station in a town where you do not really want to live. I wish I could smoke; I wish I could swear, I wish I could cry into my beer. I need a coherent sentence.

Cause I come here and wait so many times

Yes, I am starting to agree with the conductor that I am losing my mind. Right now, I am losing my keys and my wallet, and I will find those eventually. I am also losing my girl who said she would be back tomorrow, and tomorrow is two weeks ago. 

 

But me and the ticket man are the best of friends

I know, I said the same thing about the conductor but today the ticket man is my friend. He just sits in his ticket booth and sells ticket to people who are getting out of town. He remembers her when she bought the ticket. He said she was pretty, and how the light glimmered in her eyes. The conductor said she was happy and that is the saddest story I will hear today, but me and the man are the best of friends as he will change the story as days go by. There needs to be some hope in the story that my gal walks off the train.

 

So, I will come back tomorrow when the trains come in

Tomorrow is a different day; it is when she did her wash and goes for a long run. I never knew why she liked to run. She said it kept her trim and fit well I sat writing sad songs, not realizing I was living in the good old days. She knew her destination. As I fell apart, she just got better. And I loved her so much more.

 

It’s been so long ago since she went away

Hours seem like days, nights seem like days, and I walk around in a daze. Like many times before I have so many things I have to do, and I am doing none of those. I sit around and wait for the world to end with a faint glow, and I am waiting for the world to begin. The world begins again when she walks off that train.

 

She said she would return in a couple of days

In my mind two is a couple and I am seeing double. She did not tell me where she was going, but I still know. She said she would be home in a couple of days. I sit and watch the hands of the clock go around. I walk over to the calendar on the wall and make a check for every day.I am now up to eleven. Eleven days without my girl makes me weak. It is a new week as a new day, and I am going over to that train station and see her walking up the steps. It seems like that kind of day, with a hint of rain and a break in the weather.

But I will wait here forever if it takes till then

Infinity is not a substantial number when you have a lot of time on your hands. I will wait here in the train station even if it takes forever. There is a cigarette machine in the corner, and stale coffee when I need it. I packed some vegan jerky, am I not the walking paradox? I hear that train whistle heading in the wrong direction. I am thinking of getting on these trains. I am feeling I need a train and a boxcar. I can sleep in a straw bed in the corner. I am sure to find her then.

So, I will come back tomorrow when the trains come in

I think I will sleep on her side of the bed tonight even though she rarely slept there. I will sleep on the sofa, and I will find a scent of her there. I think I will run down to the convenience store and get me a four pack of malt liquor. I am a religious man, and I know things happen for a reason. God is a very cool being. That seems like the most ridiculous sentence now. There are no rhyme and no reason.There never was. I think I will be a little early tomorrow. She issleeping at the train station hoping not to hide away. That is her new home, but I think the train conductor would have told me she will be coming home soon.

I know the conductor.

And he does not know me well as he wanted to me to file a police report. I have not sobered up for days and the police will be not too happy to talk with me. A guy missing this girl makes no sense to the police. They have heard these stories many times before and there israrely a successful conclusion. I am really in need of a happy endingright now. That reminds me I must clean the sheets because she iscoming home tomorrow.

Yes, I will come back tomorrow when the trains come in

It never occurred to me that she could have written me a letter. I willgo to the mailbox as I have not been there for days. When we first met, we used to write each other letters. The walk to the mailbox seems to take forever. I can not seem to find the focus, and I do notknow what I will find there. I must cut the grass and give the garden some water. Those things do not seem to matter, but yes, I will come back tomorrow when the trains come in.

A letter sits in the mailbox sitting longingly wanting some attention. I stare at the letter for a while as I do not even know how much a stamp costs. I look for a postmark, but it washed out in the rain. I stand by the mailbox and open the letter anyway. I can barely read today, but the words flow easily. I stand there reading under the maple tree in our yard. I wipe a tear from my eyes and realize I am not going to the train station tomorrow morning.

I wonder if the train conductor will miss me. I will miss him. 

Another lonely day is almost gone the sun’s going down again and you’re still not home
The last of the trains have all come in but I’ll come back tomorrow and wait again
I know the conductor he thinks I’m losing my mind
Cause I come here and wait so many times
But me and the ticket man are the best of friends
So I’ll come back tomorrow when the trains come in

Charlie Pride