Tim and "T," our sleeping car attendant on the Cardinal

For my brother and I, the most exciting time of our transcontinental train trip began at Chicago’s venerable Union Station at 545pm on Tuesday. AMTRAK’s three days a week departure of “The Cardinal” (the bird and not the ecclesiastical variety) had backed into the station for its eastbound departure and passengers began to board. For the second segment in a row, we had a superior sleeping car attendant named “T” for Tyrell who got us settled in our slightly smaller double bedroom for what would be a twenty-three hour voyage down familial memory lane.

The Cardinal is AMTRAK’s orphan child and, as I have previously mentioned, they would like nothing better than to eliminate it. When it comes to overnight train amenities, it barely meets the “minimum test.” There is no dining car. The one sleeper has three double bedrooms and twelve roomettes but five of the twelve are occupied by the crew for their necessary overnight rest. Full, as was our train, means that they are only committed to serving twenty first class passengers maximum. Not enough to even think about one of AMTRAK’s greatest sore points with the feds, its food service costs. So there is a lounge and in one end of the lounge there are about four tables set, tended by one attendant who is waiter in charge, waiter, cook, and cleaner-upper all rolled into one. The meals come like airline meals and are reconstituted in a convection oven. The process is slow but the end-product is tolerable – not great, but tolerable.

Crossing New River and beginning the picturesque trip along and through New River Gorge, West Virginia

As the sun set over the miles and miles of corn fields in central Indiana (we saw a deer poaching on one farmer’s field), we “sped” along at an average speed of 50 mph toward Indianapolis (midnight), Cincinnati (four a.m.) and points east. Tim went to sleep early, wishing to rise and be wide awake as “The Cardinal” made its way along the Kentucky side of the Ohio River through Cattlesburg and South Portsmouth where he had worked decades ago as the freight agent for the Chesapeake and Ohio. But the big moment was a hour and a half ahead of us – Montgomery (population today is 1,942 ) and the church where we were baptized, the three houses in which we lived for the first ten years of my life and eight of his, the elementary school we attended and a much different and depressing downtown than either of us recall.

Camcorder ready for Montgomery memories

Tim set his camcorder up in the vestibule and our man “T” opened the window on the door so he could shoot pictures of all those places, the first memories of our now aging lives. Although Montgomery is shown as a station stop in both directions for the “Cardinal” if there are no passengers to get off or on, the trains slows somewhat and glides by leaving Montgomery in the distance. Today, we were in luck, however, as there were four passengers to get off and two to board. “T,” God Bless him, opened the door and allowed Tim and I to descend briefly to the platform. With tears in his eyes, Tim turned to me and said, “Bobby, we are finally home.” “T” cried and brothers embraced. We could have remained in Montgomery for two more days save “T,” with tears in his eyes, saying, “Bros, get back on the train. We are leaving.” Tim continued to film on his camcorder the Kanawa River and the falls at its headwaters and New River Gorge, the scenic highlight of the “Cardinal” journey up and down the Alleghanys, up and down the Blue Ridge and arriving for us into Charlottesville.  We took a look at our dad’s old office, all the remains in Clifton Forge of a once vibrant, now dormant railroad town where on this day, only the crew changed and no one got off or on. Soon it was Charlottesville and the sixty minute bus ride to meet the “Silver Meteor” to Florida, all anticlimactic following a day of good memories and fond farewells to places once important,  but now never to be visited again.

The two of us in the Cardinal's AMNOT DINING CAR

I said good-by to my brother in Orlando early Thursday afternoon and he remained on board until Hollywood, Florida. I close this perhaps too personal reminiscence with this compelling thought. My brother said to me with deep emotion, “Bobby, we are home, finally home” and in one sense he is right but now we must both prepare for a more important homecoming in heaven. Until then, our day is West Virginia, almost heaven as John Denver once sang, will sustain our past and our time together will prepare us for the future. Thanks for reading and now to much more important matters.

+RNL

Not Dinner in the Diner but Breakfast and Tim shown here entertaining three strangers

Saturday’s Seattle departing EMPIRE BUILDER arrived in Chicago yesterday a mere 2 hours late which is not bad for a trip of nearly two-thousand miles. By the time we pulled into Union Station, most of the sleeping car passengers were saying good-by to Tim and an occasion, “Nice to meet you, Your Excellency.” It seems that if Tim ferreted out that whomever he was talking to was Catholic, then he identified me as his bishop brother. All in all, for both of us, it was a great trip east and as one does on trains, we met a variety of very interesting people. Lunch on the final day was with a couple from Rhode Island who rode the train out to Glacier Park and spend ten days roaming the miles and miles of spectacular scenery. Whereas I tend to travel quietly, prizing my quiet time, Tim on the other hand, used every occasion to share his love for trains and his life experience to any and all who were willing to listen.

I found out that I am referred to as a “foamer.” Worried that it was some kind of comment on saliva or something like that, I was immensely relieved to hear that railroad people refer to rail fans (which is what Tim calls me) as “foamers” since we tend to foam at the mouth at the sight of any train, taking pictures of them, listening to them on the radio transmissions on a scanner, etc. I do  have such a scanner and on Sunday afternoon heard the BNSF dispatcher located in Fort Worth, Texas, tell the engineer and conductor of our train which was leaving Shelby, Montana, that there was now a flash flood warning and until he could verify no damage to the tracks, our train for a distance of about ninety miles would be restricted to a speed of 50 mph, instead of 79 mph, giving birth to the first delay of our trip. Pleased to share this information with my brother, I did so just as the Conductor was informing the whole train of the news, bringing a smile to the face of Tim that even “foaming” didn’t give one a leg up on accurate information. Score Tim 1 – Bob 0.

My brother Tim and absolutely the best sleeping car attendant either of us have ever had - GOL

Monday morning brought sunny skies to Minnesota and I awoke to find Tim gone from the room. Dressing quickly, I found him in the dining car keeping three people highly entertained. Soon after leaving Red Wing, the route of the train follows the west bank of the Mississippi to LaCrosse and a straight run to Milwaukee and eventually Chicago. I can tell that the trip is reaching its zenith for Tim with Tuesday night’s departure on the AMTRAK “Cardinal” through three of the five places where we lived as kids with our Mom and Dad. There is more talk from Tim about Dad and about those days as departure approaches and he is enjoying himself immensely. He now talks to me and others about this possibly being his last trip and what a trip it is – down memory lane for sure, but also drawing us closer together. I discovered on the Puget Sound Ferry to leave politics and religion out of the discussion and we would do fine. However, I have to listen, tolerate and forgive various expletives showered upon Republicans about once an hour.

The Empire Builder stopped for a few minutes in Winona, Minnesota. By this point in the trip, the train consisted of twelve cars carrying about 400 passengers.

I will conclude these reflections sometime on Wednesday as we complete the major portions of this sentimental journey. We change from train to bus on Wednesday afternoon for a transfer from Charlottesville to Richmond where we board the final leg of the trip, the “Silver Meteor” to Orlando where I shall disembark and Hollywood where Tim lives. We had dinner with friends of mine last night in Chicago which was a special delight as I shall soon be witnessing the marriage of two of them. Today is being spent resting and gathering energy for the train which is widely known as AMTRAK’s orphan or the one train they wish they most could get rid of – the Cardinal. The late Senator from West Virginia, Robert Byrd, reminded AMTRAK every year when it approached Congress for its annual subsidy that unless the Cardinal continued in his state of West Virginia, they would have a powerful enemy instead of a powerful friend. So the Cardinal leaves Chicago every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday for Washington and New York and every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday from New York bound for Chicago. It has no real dining car, but more about that in tomorrow’s blog entry. It has only one sleeping car with three bedrooms and seven roomettes to sell to the traveling public, three coaches and a single baggage car. Does it lose money? Big time! But tomorrow we will remember Robert Byrd fondly as we relive our youth and zoom through places important to our history like Covington, KY, Montgomery, W.VA., and Clifton Forge, Virginia. Thanks, Senator.

+RNL

Tim on the Puget Sound Ferry prior to departure east from Seattle

Seattle is history. So is Spokane and Glacier Park. No matter whether I look east or west, north or south, there is nothing out there but “amber waves of grain.” The grain is interrupted occasionally by cattle, but east of the Rockies, there is only miles and miles and miles of grain to be seen . The Empire Builder left Seattle yesterday on an afternoon which quite suddenly and unexpectedly turned sunny and blue. In an effort to find something which Tim could do and might enjoy in the afternoon awaiting the 440pm departure of the “Builder,” we settled on a round trip Washington State Ferry ride across Puget Sound to Bremerton. It seemed like a good idea when I bought the ticket at 1215pm for the 1235pm ferry, but then it began to rain and rain and rain. When we arrived back at the ferry dock in Seattle at three, it was still sprinkling but by the 440pm departure of the “Builder” blue skies prevailed and the first hour running along the shoreline of Puget Sound was spectacular. Three cruise ships were sailing north to Alaska abreast of us and the Olympic mountain range to the west and along the coast were majestic.

At Everett, Washington, the train heads southwest and climbs the Cascades. Since it was two days after the longest day of the year, we had daylight for the entire climb and descent into central Washington’s apple growing area along the upper reaches of the soon to be mighty Columbia River, flowing south and southwest.

Dinner in the diner tonight brought us together with a two men from the coach section, one of whom it took all of two nanoseconds for him to figure out that I was a bishop. The ring gave me away. He is attending Sacramento State College and regularly attends the Newman Center and knows Bishop Jaime Soto and the long retired Bishop Francis Quinn of Sacramento who wears the same Council ring, which I wear. To make the world even smaller, he has a cousin who lives in Plant City and his own mother who lives in California has been on trips and pilgrimages with our Father Carlos Rojas. Tim kept the other young man entertained. Good dinner followed by a challenging first night of sleep – only three more to go in these AMTRAK sleeping cars.

For the first hour leaving Seattle, the EMPIRE BUILDER travels along the shore line of Puget Sound with the Olympic mountains in the distance. Sharp eyes can see Holland America's MS ZUIDERDAM heading both to Alaska.

Since Tim would not easily be able to climb into the upper bunk, I volunteered. Mistake. I should have probably secured two of the smaller roomettes so we could both have lower beds, but like many a football game, which is won on Monday, hindsight is always 20-20. Too bad there was no film of this 230 lb. monster climbing up steep stairs and then trying to crawl into a space of about three feet of headroom. I should win an award as a contortionist.

We awakened on purpose around 630am (having lost an hour due to the change from Pacific Daylight Time, to Mountain Daylight Time), in time for Tim to detrain in Whitefish, the station at which the Builder begins to climb to the top of the continental divide and enters Glacier National Park. Once again the weather was beautiful on the west side of the Rockies but it has been overcast on the east side. About fifty people detrained at the West Glacier Station and the same number boarded. At East Glacier, within walking distance of the National Park Lodge, the same number left the train and slightly less boarded. Clearly the National Parks are in their busy season. Tim entertained three people at a table for breakfast in the diner as I kicked him out. I had breakfast with a young woman from Corvallis, Oregon who was going to East Glacier and the Lodge with her family. She was very pleasant.

Traveling with one’s brother is not always easy. Tim chose the middle of Puget Sound to tell me how he thought I and the other bishops were looking pretty darn stupid (not exactly his choice of adjective) on the HHS matter. He could not believe that in this age of enlightenment, anyone in his or her right minds could be raising any kind of ruckus about contraception. I used all my best and every argument that I had that it was not about contraception but religious liberty but he was not buying. And he was vehement enough that had I not expended thousands of frequent flyer miles and AMTRAK Guest Rewards miles for this trip, I might have thrown him overboard in the middle of Puget Sound. Probably the testiest moment on this trip and in years. He has been quiet since then!

Lunch was with a husband and wife from Rhode Island who clearly like to ride trains. They came west on the train and are now heading home. They also like the Queen Mary III, which they have taken on a quick trans-Atlantic voyage three times since she entered service. They have a short connection tomorrow in Chicago and are already worried that perhaps they will not make it (this train has been averaging 140 minutes late the last two weeks into Chicago). The Lynch boys have their second and final hotel night tomorrow in the Windy City.

Tim is beginning to reminisce and rhapsodize about the trip which begins Tuesday night on what was once the Chesapeake and Ohio. He worked for them for twenty-four years after returning from Vietnam and there has been all kinds of talk emanating from him that he intends to bribe the sleeping car attendant into opening the top part of the Dutch doors in Montgomery, West Virginia and Clifton Forge, Virginia to allow he and his camcorder to record houses we used to live in and places we used to frequent. We will see. Now it’s back to those “amber waves of grain” and towns like Malta, Montana; Saga, Montana; Wolf Point, Montana. Come to think of it, Montanans have probably never heard of Frostproof, Florida, or Lokey either.

+RNL

My brother Tim.

The long awaited and much anticipated reunion of two of the three Lynch boys took place on Friday at Gate D11 at the Miami airport. I flew from Tampa to meet Tim and accompany him the rest of the way to Seattle, a trip of eight hours duration. He was so excited that we were finally on our way, having navigated by wheelchair from the curbside check-in counter through security to the gate. I had “cashed in” enough American frequent flyer miles and moved early enough to secure two first class seats on the flights from Miami to O’Hare and then on to Seattle. Tim said that the Miami to Chicago flight was on the largest and quietest jet he had ever flown on and then with something approaching “gallows humor” said that the next time he would be so far forward in an airplane would likely be when his casket was in the forward hold beneath where he was sitting. American did a great job of having wheelchair assistance waiting for him with his name specifically on it for transferring from gate to gate in Chicago and from gate to baggage claim in Seattle. It was, however, precisely at baggage claim that I began to really appreciate the challenges facing people with disabilities. Delivered to baggage claim and receiving her “tip” for the service, we were abandoned by the wheelchair person. At first I did not think that would be a problem because arrival pick up was taking place just a few steps from the carrousel. Then, struck with fear, I noticed no cabs nor any signs for taxis anywhere. I approached the American Airlines agent in the baggage claim are and she said, “Oh, the taxi’s are on the third level of the parking garage.” She then said you need to walk to an elevator, walk across and bridge over the roadways, walk through the fourth level of the garage and then take an elevator to the third level where the taxis could be found. I knew it would be too much for Tim and I could not manage his luggage and mine as well. It took two people to accomplish the transfer from baggage claim to taxi: someone handling the bags and a second person pushing a wheelchair. But we did it. Then out of the garage and right smack into Seattle’s signature climate: rain!

Arriving at the hotel at 1000pm EDT, our sole goal in life was no longer heaven, but something to eat and then sleep. We attempted to “dine” at the Pike Pub and Brewery across from the hotel but the wait time was 45 to 60 minutes so it was back to the hotel. I had two “sliders” evoking our memory of White Castles in Columbus, Ohio and Skyline Chili parlors in Cincinnati. Tim loved the day, the attention he received on the plane from various flight attendants who were drawn to him by his sunny disposition, paying little attention to the sour puss next to him.

Conversation was mostly about trains and our youth. Tim has very clear memories of his trip to and from Seattle for his service in Vietnam in the army – the troop ship out of Fort Lewis and the return from there. I do not pursue and he has always volunteered very little about his time in the war zone. My brother Jim and I surmise that those memories are just too painful. Every one is suspicious that Tim’s COPD situation results from a combination of smoking and, we think, Agent Orange exposure which the Veterans Administration is finally acknowledging is a source of veteran disability after years of denial by there VA officialdom. He does have a hard time breathing and even experienced some stress on the plane where the cabin is pressurized to 8000 feet. But we made it.

At dinner we talked a lot about railroads and about our Dad. Perhaps the most poignant moment of this special Friday for me will be when Tim said, with a tear in his eye about our father, “I still miss him terribly. . . I love him. . . I talk to him daily.” Later today a ferry ride on Puget Sound to Bremerton will be followed by the start of our eastbound transcontinental rail journey at 440pm on AMTRAK’s Train No. 8, THE EMPIRE BUILDER.

+RNL