Cincinnati to Charlottesville, VA, The Cardinal, Train No. 50
Coach seats on the Cardinal train
The man sitting across the aisle from me unloads a large orange duffle bag from his back onto the train’s overhead baggage rack. I know I’ve met someone from a different region when I hear him ask in a soft, southern accent: ”Do you need any help with your bag, ma’am?” I acknowledge his kind gesture with a warm smile and a shake of the head, no. I travel light.
He looks as though he could toss my bag overhead with one arm. His strong build and gentle manner reminds me of how nice men can be. His beard is shabby in an outdoorsman kind of way. His brown hair holds a slight wave. He’s dressed casually in faded jeans and a blue sweatshirt.
“That’s quite a load to be carrying on your back,” I say.
“I’ve been working and camping at Yellowstone National Park for 78 days. I’m returning home to Alderson, West Virginia.” That’s all he says before he begins viewing several music websites on a laptop.
“Are you a musician?”
“No. I’m retired from federal law enforcement.”
“What does federal law enforcement mean?”
“I worked at the federal prison in Alderson for six years and before that twenty some years at the federal penitentiary in Tallahassee, Florida.”
“You were a prison guard?”
“Yes.”
“I bet you have some stories to tell.” Continue reading
