Memories from a Cross-Country Train Ride, with a Pair of Lessons

"Awareness is like the sun. When it shines on things, they are transformed."
– Thich Nhat Hanh

The year I turned eight my parents allowed me to skip school for three weeks to go on a cross-country trip with my grandparents. (With permission from my teacher, of course.) My family was living a suburb of Cleveland at the time. My grandparents were going out West to see my Aunt Ellen, Uncle Dale and my cousins in Winnemucca in Nevada. It took three days to go from Cleveland to Reno. Uncle Dale picked us up. I'll never forget the lights as we drove through Downtown Reno at what must have been midnight.

My mother is fond of saying, "It's funny the things we remember." That trip with Grandma and Grandpa is chock full of memories. Here's a story from that adventure.

* * * 

We didn't have sleeper cars on this journey. As I remember it the three of us sat side by side with me at the window throughout that cross-country excursion. One highlight was riding through the Rocky Mountains at a relatively high altitude with a deep gorge alongside the tracks to my left. Grandma pointed across the gorge to a train hugging the mountain going the opposite direction and said, "That's where we will be in a little bit." In other words we were on the same track and they were ahead of us by about 15 minutes,

When we reached the far end of this turnabout she had me look down into the valley where there were a dozen abandoned, run-down cabins and bins. Grandma said it was a ghost town, which gave a new meaning to the word "ghost."

This story here is about an experience that took place on the plains, most likely in Nebraska while heading east. It was the middle of the night. I was awake and staring out the window, scanning the darkness when I noticed a very unusual sight. On the ground alongside the tracks we were on there were two streaks of glowing orange. The streaks were glowing like the embers after a fireplace has been spent, throbbing with heat. 

What was it? It was spooky. So I woke my grandmother who was seated next to me and she didn't know either. On and on it seemed to go for miles. 

Suddenly our train began to slow, then the lights went on and we came to a stop. The mystery was explained.

There were two railroad tracks running parallel across the prairie. As it turned out, a passenger train on the other track had come to a halt because the last five cars had jumped the track. The glowing was produced by friction on the limestone that held the railroadties and track in place. Our train stopped, essentially in the middle of nowhere, so that the passengers on the disabled train could be rescued and transported to the next station along the way. 

* * *

LESSON ONE
Occasionally in life we experience mysteries that we don't understand. From the vantage point of the future these mysteries become quite clear. There are simple explanations which we may have understood from the start had we more experience.

LESSON TWO
When our train stopped to help the passengers on the other train, our passengers were inconvenienced for a bit. Not only was there a delay in reachng our destination, there was a need to cram all the extra passengers into our railroad cars. So it is that when people's lives go off the rails or they have simply jumped the track and are stuck... The lesson is clear. The engineer of our train could not, in good conscience, simply ignore the disabled railroad and pass on the other side. Nor should we.

See: The Parable of the Good Samaritan

If I may paraphrase a famous president:
"Ask not what your neighbor can do for you,

but what you can do for your neighbor."

A Lesson from Oedipus: Learning To See

The Sphinx of Greek mythology.

"You can only paint truthfully what you can truthfully see," is one of the maxims of the Great Lakes Academy of Fine Art. Unless we're totally blind, seeing is something we all do every day, and something we fail to do well because we take it for grated. Hence, a critical lesson is learning how to truly and truthfully see. Though particularly pertinent for painters, this lesson applies to all our life experiences.

The other night as I watched The Third Man I was surprised to still see things I had not noticed before, even though I'd watched it at least five times or more. 

In Greek mythology, Oedipus was the king of Thebes and the central character in the Greek tragedy by Sophocles, Oedipus Rex. When he was born there was a prophecy that he would kill his father and marry his mother. 

According to the legend, retold by Sophocles, his parents were King Laius and Queen Jocasta of Thebes. In order to thwart the prophecy, King Lauis instructed a shepherd to take the infant and leave him on a hillside to die. The shepherd didn't have the heart to leave the infant to die, so he handed him off to another shepherd so that Oedipus ended up being raised by another king and queen (Polybus and Merope) who raised him as their own.

When Oedipus grew up, while serving in the court of Polybus and Merope, he goes to consult the Oracle at Delphi regarding his life. He learns about the prophecy that he will kill his father and marry his mother. (In Andre Gide's retelling, in Two Legends, it is a soothsayer visiting the kingdom who privately tells Oedipus his future.)

Oedipus decides to banish himself from the Kingdom where he was raised to set out for a new life. At this point, King Polybus steps in and reveals to the young man that Polybus is not really his father, and shares the story of how he came to live as if he were the king's son. "There is nothing to worry about. I'm not your father."

What is it like to believe one thing all your life only to discover later that things were not as they appeared? I know many of such stories, including my own.

Oedipus decides to depart anyways. On the road near Thebes he gets into an altercation with an older man. Their quarrel escalates to such a degree that Oedipus kills the man. Continuing on his way he reaches Thebes only to discover it is under a curse from the Sphinx and that the king of the city is dead. 

From 5th century B.C., Nola, Italy

The Sphinx is a mythical creature with the head of a woman, haunches of a lion and the wings of a falcon that stood guard at the gate of the city. The Sphinx would ask riddles to travelers who it would strangle and destroy if they failed to correctly answer. The question the Sphinx asked Oedipus is one of the most famous riddles in history, of which we are all familiar now but was a mystery then: Which creature has one voice and yet becomes four-footed and two-footed and three-footed?"

Oedipus correctly answers the Sphinx and as his reward he is given the throne, thereby becoming King of Thebes and marrying the king's widow. Naturally both are oblivious to one another's identities.

When Laius had been killed the Sphinx released a plague upon the land. When the plague continued unabated, he set out to find the root cause of this curse. His idealism set in motion the quest but there were warnings that it may be best to abandon this fool's errand.

In the end, he learns that he killed his father and Jocasta discovers she married her son. Blinded by these revelations, Jocasta hangs herself, and a Oedipus punctures his eyes with pins from Jocasta's dress. 

* * *

I realize this is a very different story from the opening paragraph about painting, but the concept is similar. We take so much for granted. 

"Know Thyself" are the words carved above the entrance to Apollo's temple at Delphi. The theme has been echoed throughout history in philosophy and literature.  

I think here of "To thine own self be true" in Hamlet. How can we be true to ourselves--our values and core being--if we do not know who we are. And of course The Lion King is a great illustration of this latter principle. If you are called to be a king, why are you wasting your life thrashing about in a fantasy land? When Simba's eyes were opened, he realized it was time to grow up, and to stop beating himself up for something he didn't do. (He believed his killed his father, and it warped him, an interesting twist on Oedipus, yes? 

* * * 

In The Third Man, it is the writer Holly Martens (Joseph Cotten) who has his eyes opened when he discovers his old friend Harry Lime (Orson Welles) isn't the man he thought he was. (See: A Film Noir Favorite, The Third Man)  

 

To quote the Apostle Paul, "We see through a glass dimly."

Life is full of mysteries. I think that's part of what makes it so interesting. What have you learned on your journey? What riddles are your striving to resolve today?

* * * 

See: The Riddle of the Sphinx

Unremembered History, part 3

SHORT STORY MONDAY

Tom Olney imagined that coming to the new world would enable he and his wife Molly to begin a new life for themselves. For a long time it seemed God's hand of blessing was with them. Eventually, during a time of hardship, Olney felt a weight of guilt from his past and was driven to move further into the wilderness where they established an isolated homestead.

Unremembered History of the World, continued

The turning point of this story is an incident which took place during an uprising in the autumn of 17xx.

The Olneys lived an isolated life under primitive conditions in a remote region of the Blue Mountains. They had not received news of the uprising, had no expectation of the event which changed not only the course of their own lives, but the courses of history as well.

Early that morning son Charles had gone off hunting for game as was his custom. Game was plentiful in those days and he needn't go far, but he was far enough off not to hear it when the Indian raid came. Charles was hunting toward the east and the small band of five Shawnee had stolen in from the west.

Old Tom (he appeared much older than he actually was) was seated on a wooden slat, lacing his boots, while Elizabeth washed carrots in a basin that passed for a sink. Suddenly two Indians burst into the cabin. Elizabeth screamed. Tom reached toward the place where he kept his rifle, but the gun had been left in the corner across the room and the first Indian went directly to it when he saw Tom's eyes snapping toward it.

Two more Indians cautiously entered the back entrance and the Olney's immediately became submissive. The Indians bound their wrists and ushered them off into the woods, heading west from where they had come.

When Charles returned to the cabin he swiftly discerned what had taken place. Before heading out to find his family, he studied the forest from inside the cabin. Figuring that he had been hunting to the east and not seen or heard anything, he decided to search the several paths headed west. But which direction had they gone? As he left the cabin he noticed on the ground a scar in the dirt that pointed northwest. It was a marker from his father, for Tom Olney, when he saw which direction the party was headed, pretended to stumble and as he attempted to rise he scratched the earth with the toe of his boot.

Charles crept cautiously through the old growth forest, wondering how long it would take and how much time lay between them. The Indians, however, were in a hurry to return to their tribe. The leader of the party had taken Tom's rifle and, from the way he handled it, appeared to know how to use it. The others, armed with tomahawks, arrows and bows, also shared the responsibility of carrying a bag of carrots and some clothing which they had taken from the Olney homestead.

After two hours of hard walking Elizabeth fell exhausted and the Indians allowed them all to rest. One of the natives departed to see if they were alone in the woods or were being tracked. He returned to the group and said something which neither Tom nor Elizabeth could understand.

Charles found the trail easily. His father and sister had been discreetly breaking tips of branches to mark the way so that Charles could rescue them. Nevertheless, the tracking was tedious and several times the young man had lost his way and had to return to where he was confident and try another route.

The rest period was brief and the party moved on, only more slowly now. They seemed in a better mood, talking and laughing for the first time that day.

As evening approached one of the natives shouted something and they all became very still. Tom could see that they were all quite young, the one no more than a boy, and he thought of his own son, wondering if he would ever see him again. At no time did the Indians speak to them in a language they could understand and Tom regretted that he had not learned the native tongues his son Charles had mastered. His inability to figure out their intentions created an increasing anxiety that shackled his thoughts.

The Indian with the rifle had a twisted mouth which gave him a grim appearance. He stood watching while the others gathered branches and brush to build a small campfire. Olney had been shoved to the ground near a tree and his ankles were tight bound with twine. He swiveled himself around in an attempt to get comfortably situated, but finally lay on his side facing what would soon become a campfire.

Olney's thoughts were torn. Part of him wished for his son to arrive and rescue them. The other part of him felt absolute horror at the thought of losing both of his children in one day. He recalled a fragment of Scripture about the futility of life, that whether we have been good or evil, the same destiny awaits us all.

The whole thing happened so quickly it was incomprehensible. For Olney, it was as if he were watching a drama, the players at this point being the five Indians and his daughter. His daughter was standing to the left of his field of vision and the leader with the rifle no more than fifteen feet away directly before him, three other Indians in the background. The fifth Indian had come up behind the daughter and put his hand on her shoulder.

Instantly, he heard a loud shout behind him and knew it was Charles.

"Nooooooooooooo!"

The Indian with the twisted mouth swung the rifle up to his shoulder and took aim. Olney went totally berserk, his eyes nearly busting out of his head. In the deepest part of his heart, with his soul and with his whole being he wished the Indian to disappear, to no longer be there....no, there was a strange prayer forming, and he uttered it like a command: "Become a tree."

The rifle fell. When the butt hit the ground it fired up into the treetops. After the sound died away all was still. Everything seemed to stop and all of them, the four Indians and the three Olneys, remained entranced by what they had witnessed. Where the Indian with the rifle had been standing there now stood a small oak.

It seemed hours but was perhaps only a minute as the four stunned Indians scattered into the woods. Olney himself was shaking his head back and forth, knowing that somehow in some way a deep magic had worked in him to create this wonder. A hushed silence pervaded the forest floor, then gradually there were the bird songs and a chippering of ground squirrels.

Charles cut his father free from the bindings and the three of them walked near to the oak. "How did you do this?" Elizabeth asked.

"Why do you say I did this? God must have done this." But Olney knew that in some strange way that somehow he had done this.

For a long time they held each other and cried, old Tom Olney crying more deeply than he imagined possible.

"It's all right, Father," Charles said.

Olney took out a knife and gouged an X on the side of the tree. It seemed to him that one day he would perhaps need to find this place again and remember it. Turning to his children, "God has spared us for a purpose. Touch this tree here, and remember this day. God has spared you for a purpose."

After passing the night in the woods the Olneys returned home to their cabin.

"I want to go to Philadelphia," Charles said the next day and his father agreed that this would be good.

TO BE CONTINUED

Case of the Gilded Lily

Why are mysteries so fascinating?

One of the most popular shows on television today is CSI, a.k.a. Crime Scene Investigation. Essentially, it’s about the realities involved in solving murders. Though I’ve never seen the show, I know it must be popular because it’s on nearly every night of the week now.

CSI is, of course, only the latest in a long line of mystery, whodunit types of stories stretching back who knows how far. I remember conversations with my grandmother about the mysteries of the Great Pyramid and all the questions it raised. The Greek historian Herodotus wrote about it twenty-five hundred years ago and it is still unearthing unresolved questions to this day.

What is it about mysteries and puzzles that gets us so engaged? In the realm of literature Edgar Allen Poe made his mark with mysteries such as The Gold Bug and Murders in the Rue Morgue. Suddenly, a genre was born. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes was all about solving imponderables with a searing brilliance. G.K.Chesterton’s Father Brown was a contemporary to Holmes with an equally rabid following. Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot became a household name through the murder mystery genre as well.

When television culture emerged the short mystery tale became a staple in the nation’s diet for diversion. The Rockford Files, Columbo, Murder She Wrote… The shows made for good fun as audiences attempted to solve the crimes faster than their heroes.

With regard to solving murders the literary character, and television show, that most strikes a chord with me is the one and only Perry Mason, created by Erle Stanley Gardner and later played by Raymond Burr. Having just watched five episodes (on DVD) of Perry Mason Season 1, it’s easy to see why this was such compelling television back in its day.

There were probably two things that made Erle Stanley Gardner’s books so engaging. First was the air of authenticity in the manuscripts. Gardner himself had been a trial lawyer. He did not have to research courtroom proceedings as a journalist. He lived them. His pugnacious hero Perry Mason no doubt mirrored his own real and imagined courtroom achievements. Second, his terse contemporary writing style continuously moved his stories forward. He didn’t waste time on tedious backgrounds and family histories. The books strode through the story, both revealing and concealing, leaving the reader illuminated yet in the dark as Perry Mason persisted through to victory, and victory again.

The Mason team included his personal detective Drake, and the ever efficient Della Street who provided a perfect counterweight to the granite and steel Mason. Raymond Burr brought Perry Mason to life ever so perfectly, the tough yet considerate counsel, who never seems to lose his cool, or his client’s case.

Erle Stanley Gardner’s own story is especially inspiring for young writers because he purportedly never published his first novel till in his forties, yet completed 82 Perry Mason novels before passing on. Yes, he had been writing pulp fiction for years before “making it” so it is not like something magical happened overnight. As was recently pointed out somewhere else, the only place where Success comes before Work is in the dictionary. Gardner paid his dues before reaping his rewards.

Mysteries, puzzles, mind games, concealed identities, disguises, surveillance, cryptography, encryption and decryption, decoding secret messages… these diversions can become almost obsessive at times. But they sharpen our minds by teaching us how to observe better, how to gather information and “see” in new ways. Applied thinking and problem solving are valuable skill sets in the real world. Leaders need these skills, and strive to develop them in others. Whether in the workplace, the community or the home, we really don't want or need a nation of sheep.

But let’s save that discussion for another time and give our attention to… The Case of the Jaded Jogger. Was it suicide, or was it murder?

Did She Really Disappear?

Celebritydom existed long before television. The brightness of Edison’s light still shines in America. Many others have carved out monument sized memories in the national consciousness. But in aviation, in the early decades of the twentieth century, there are really only a handful of superstars. with the Wright brothers, Eddie Rickenbacker, Charles Lindbergh, and perhaps Howard Hughes heading the list. No list is complete, however, without including the remarkable Amelia Earhart.

Perhaps her star shown with special brilliance because women were finally getting some recognition on the national stage. After her historic 1932 flight, as the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, she became a media sensation.

In 1935 Earhart set her sights on one truly great adventure, a trip around the world in a twin engine Lockheed Electra. In 1937, along with navigator Frederick Noonan, Earhart set off to reinforce her superstar status. Tragically, her plane disappeared without a trace and she was never seen or heard from again. Or so the story goes.

This winter, Hillary Swank is slipping into the bigger than life role of Amelia Earhart to bring this woman’s achievements and heartbreaking end to the silver screen. Or at least one interpretation.

Another project has been underway, serving as the contrary yang to Swank’s ying. I am referring to researcher Tod Swindell’s efforts to assemble a documentary that seeks to tell the real Amelia Earhart story.

Swindell’s version of the story goes like this. Amelia Earhart was so uncomfortable with the media adulation she’d received for her cross-Atlantic flight and other successes, she simply had to come up with a creative solution that would enable her to re-establish a private life outside the public eye. The disappearance which took place in 1937 had been orchestrated over a two year period that would enable her to get all in place for a new, alternate identity.

It sounds pretty far out, until you allow Swindell to lay out his case. True, this theory has surfaced before and been rejected for various reasons. But Swindell claims that incontrovertible evidence has now emerged.

The success of Earhart’s escape down the gopher hole required complicity from other people in high places.

History produces cover ups like an untended garden produces weeds. And it is not uncommon for Hollywood to get the story wrong in an effort to tell a good story.

I’ve been in contact with Tod Swindell since first discovering and writing about the Amelia Earhart alternative story. (Burden of the Public Eye) Here is a short interview with Swindell as he strives complete the project which has been a burning passion of his over many years.

Ennyman: How long have you been involved with The Irene-Amelia story?
Tod Swindell: I have been involved with Earhart investigative research since 1991. She was my maternal Grandmother's hero. 'Gram' (Doris) told me Earhart stories as I grew up. (Doris was three years younger than Amelia, raised my mother and uncle alone.) So I grew up with an instilled interest.The website, www.irene-amelia.com is entirely mine. My two partners died in recent years. They were Joe Gervais and Rollin Reineck, WWII vets who I befriended in the mid 1990s, and came to love and admire greatly for their Earhart research achievements. The interesting thing, I find, is how even though it is obvious in a hidden historical sense, how Gervais was correct about his ID pin on the former Earhart in 1965, since WWII world society has been left to accept Earhart's loss as an everlasting mystery only. That is to say, historical dictum has done well to convince all the Gervais claim was a hoax, or an outright fraud, where in truth it makes great forensic historical sense, and if one does look into it with true objectivity, he or she realizes such a thing.

E: You’re currently producing a documentary on the Irene-Amelia story. How’s that coming along?
TS: I'm currently seeking funding to complete my documentary which is about 70% filmed. I have two French narrators, a man and a woman. The final documentary version will feature French voice over narration with English subtitles.

E: What is your marketing plan?
TS: To finish producing the film on Hi-Def with silent partnership, have a color print made, seek distribution while entering it in festivals, hopefully land a book contract and feature deal through said efforts. The deadline for Sundance entries is late October. But there are many, many festivals.

E: And how long is the documentary?
TS: 70 minutes.

E: How does it compare to Expelled or Michael Moore's stuff?
TS: I think it's a different animal, but it does shed some distrustful light on our national media and on our national historical dictum influences. As mentioned, it is to be narrated in French with English subtitles. I wanted it to sound like a foreign take an American historical issue.

E: Is it a made for TV documentary?
TS: Yes, but festival and four walls worthy, too.

E: Do you envision trying to get an Oscar on this project?
TS: Absolutely.

E: Ultimately, what’s you’re motivation here? What is it that drives you to go to these lengths to put your convictions out there like this?
TS: To me the truth is the truth and it cannot be changed, and I have a duty to share what I have learned and what I know. This was the point of building the website, and remains the point of still trying to complete the documentary. For the website begins to let the truth be told in a public sense, and the documentary should lead to the feature and book efforts. And yes, there is a script and a nice booklet presentation for the documentary.

If you get a chance, visit Swindell's Irene-Amelia website, dedicated to unveiling the curtain that has shrouded the Amelia Earhart story. Maybe we’ll never know the truth, or maybe we’re discovering it and find it simply too hard to believe. Earhart's disapperance certainly one of the great unsolved mysteries of the past eighty years. Where's Sherlock Holmes when you need him?

To learn more about this amazing woman, check out these two short YouTube videos.