By and large conditions are better now than they were when I was a child, but there are things that I miss.

Thursday, January 24, 2002

By and large conditions are better now than they were when I was a child, but there are things that I miss. Passenger trains for one. Not the fast streamliners that made their appearance when I was in my teens. No, I miss the old elegant trains, with their red or green plush covered seats, topped with fresh clean linen covers.

Until I was a young woman I don’t think I rode more than 50 miles on a train at any time – usually it was 30 some or even 20. At no time, however, did I start out with my mother or grandmother, or both, without the wicker basket packed with a substantial lunch.

I don’t know why. Our destination was usually the home of one of the relatives, any one of whom would have refreshments waiting for us. We always had breakfast before boarding the train. Economy would have made it imperative that we bring our own food rather than eating in the diner. Economy and distrust of train food. After all a distant cousin had once seen a porter polishing apples for sale on the train by blowing on them and polishing them on his sleeve.

The apples carried through the train for sale were beautiful to look at, but we never bought one. There were always two or three well-washed apples in the lunch basket to be peeled with a little pen knife and distributed for dessert.

Although I never confessed it, I yearned for the luxury of the dining car. I never entered one at that period of my life, but as soon as I learned to ride a bicycle I used to pedal my way to the depot to watch the incoming trains. At the supper hour and the shades up, the dining car was in my sight a scene of sheer magnificence.

Each table was lighted with a delicate shaded lamp and decorated with a slender silver vase holding a single rose. Elegant beyond measure.

By time I grew up and actually ate in a diner from time to time, I realized that the lunch in the wicker basket was actually more tasty. It was almost always the same thing: fried chicken sandwiches, deviled eggs, sweet pickles, an apple or orange and a cookie.

In the basket was a folding cup for each of us. You pulled it out to its full size and took it to a convenient faucet at the end of the car to be filled. I shall never forget the pride or the terror that seized me when I was finally deemed capable of marching down the length of the moving train to fill my own cup.

Automobiles, though, were becoming more and more common. It was easier to get in your car and take off to pay family visits than to take a train.

When I was a sophomore in high school one of the railways in town offered a special excursion to high school students, because so many of them had never ridden on a train.

Cost of the round trip, which carried us from Nebraska City to Lincoln, Neb., was 75 cents. We not only had the ride to the state’s Capitol, some 60 miles away, but we were each given a box containing lunch. It contained a meat and bun sandwich, an apple (I gave mine away) and a cookie. A bottle of soda pop was served with it.

It was all extremely satisfactory. A trip I remember with pleasure even now, though I have since traveled on a train, sleeping in my own little roomette, en route to Boston or Mississippi. I’ve journeyed on the fast and elegant trains in France, on a Brit pass in England and Scotland, and with less enthusiasm on a somewhat uncomfortable train in Italy.

It is my hope that one day we’ll have more passenger trains in this country. The great thing about airplanes, of course, is that they save so much time. If we’re going to have to get to the airport four hours ahead of time to be searched, though, trains may prove just as time saving.

Trains, too, I suppose can be hijacked, but it’s a bit difficult to attack buildings with them.

Love Cruikshank is an Albert Lea resident. Her column appears Thursdays.