NZ Letters: chicago and trains

This week, I AM TRAVELING. But, since I have so many new readers (following the Richard Zieman Book Blog Tour) -- I've decided to share some of the letters I wrote to Nancy last year.

I wrote about normal stuff. But, like everybody else, my normal life is kind of ho-hum...so, as the weeks went on, I wrote about my friends and family...my career with the CIA...

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August 18, 2017,

Dear Nancy,

Wednesday, our train ride/day trip into Chicago went great…and Thursday I needed MORE than a nap.  I went into a Grandma Coma…

My cousin Jackie spent the night here on Tuesday -- sleeping in the new/old/guest room. She remembers the cousin’s party we had up in that room -- the night it got painted. I will never change any of that. And the back of the door has special meaning for her and me...

In 2002, Jackie and I were in New York City. We were taking the train to Boston to attend a book launch for a friend of mine. We went to Penn Station to catch the train…and found the right track…we were standing there, 20 minutes early…but the train never came. We checked the board many times, and were certain we were exactly where we were supposed to be. No train came…the appointed time came and went…

We asked an Amtrak employee about the train to Boston. He told us to look at the board (which we’d already done -- but it was on the main level of the station -- we were two levels below at this point.)

After about 45 minutes of standing in the same spot…clearly, it was way past schedule now, but we were afraid to move….We were not experienced train travelers, and we didn't know what to do next.  We AGAIN asked the guy  about the train to Boston…(this was our third conversation with him.)

That was the end. He was exasperated...and with a big snarl, he said, “That train has left the station. You’ve got to quit talkin' bout that train.”

That became a mantra for both of us. Another way of saying  GET OVER YOURSELF…

Anyway -- here's a picture of that door....and Jackie with the kids at Union Station in Chicago.

Love,
rita

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