Riding the rails and the power of serving
Carol Shirk Knapp | Hagadone News Network | UPDATED 6 years, 10 months AGO
Just returned from a marathon train trip. Over 60 hours in four days bringing grands from Twin Cities.
I’ve been in love with trains since my first epic ride three years ago. The people … the rails … the whistle blowing … rolling down the tracks with the scenery knocking on the window.
On the way east a young couple with a toddler sat behind me. She — it turns out — is an Idaho girl. Needs the mountains. When we traded Glacier Park for the plains her disgruntlement was obvious, “Back to the flatland.” Her partner said, “Home.” He’s a North Dakota guy who’s claustrophobic in the mountains. “Your home, my hell,” was her response.
Ouch. How are they going to make it? Before they debarked, having lived in both terrains, I remarked there is beauty in each place — to hang in there and it’ll work out.
“If it was a bigger town,” she said. He said, “We just bought a house.” She said, “I want to go back.” He said, “I couldn’t wait to get out of Idaho.” It’s not looking good, but I’m rooting for them to find a way.
On the return was the beautiful tattooed black woman with a baby named Minnow. We got to talking while stuck on the tracks two hours waiting the train’s crew replacement. She was headed west to get her daughter, whom her former husband with addiction problems, had tried to abduct.
This wasn’t her only trial. She and Minnow’s father had recently moved to North Dakota from Oregon for a new start. Besides nearly dying in childbirth due to an inherited bleeding disorder, she and he lost their home — and everything in it — to a chimney fire while she was still in the hospital.
This town, where her friend had moved earlier, rallied when they learned of the trouble the “newbies” had endured — bringing all sorts of things to get them settled. But not a car, which they still lack.
She didn’t intend it, tried to refuse it, but I dug up the cash I had with me, shared it with her gladly, and wished I’d had more. I told her what I’d read a dozen years ago. The difference between help and serve.
Help says, “I’m somehow in a better position and I’m going to lift you up.” Serve says, “We are equals. I give to you and you give to me.” I wanted in some way to serve this young woman who had inspired me with the brave truth of her life story.
That’s how it is riding the rails. A feeling of being carried together.
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