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Yes, I enjoyed the tale too. You found the right word for it, Stephen; thanks Hal. Doug On 19-Dec-05, at 8:24 AM, Stephen Vincent wrote: > Sweet parable, Hal. It will probably 'bother' me all day in a good way. > > > Stephen V > http://stephenvincent.net/blog/ > > > > >> Indifferent Trains >> >> I was reading Chekhov’s “Three Sisters” again >> for the last time when I lost the timetable my travel >> agent had slipped into the envelope holding my ticket. >> Someone said I should ask the conductor to give >> me a new one. I said, “Hell, who really cares where >> we’re going or when we’ll get there?” The train itself >> certainly didn’t care who I was or where I was going. >> It just kept up its little mantra: Ticket-taker, ticket-taker, >> ticket-taker, ticket-taker, ticket-taker . . . well, you get >> my meaning, don’tcha, buddy? If pressed to say so, >> I’d say that the passengers in this car are funny, >> sensual, and poignant. The guy in front of me goes >> so far as to amuse himself by, every ten or fifteen >> minutes, plucking a single strand of hair from the back >> of the head of the woman in front of him, the one who’s >> been sleeping ever since we pulled out of the station >> in Detroit. Still, a full bladder will often make my visit >> to the lavatory at the rear of the car worthwhile and >> rewarding. Wherever we’re going we must be running >> along the terminator now–there’s sunshine to the right >> and darkness, with looming thunderheads, off to the >> left. Excitement is pitched at a level of intensity that seems >> more like ecstasy than potty-mouthed travel. The miles >> are repetitive, but never really mawkish. The conductor >> is terrific in his well-pressed uniform, stopping to pull >> out of his watch pocket a lidded, round watch just like the one >> my grandfather left to my father and my father passed on >> to me–superbly crafted. Tickety-tock, tickety-tock, >> tickety-tock. The train, while never for a moment losing >> its momentum, integrates us into landscape after landscape. >> Around the time that dawn breaks on the prairie, some of my >> fellow passengers wake up and begin to converse–you know, >> mundane stuff with bits of confusion and banality mixed in. >> A mother with two kids cuddled up on the seat next to her >> says to one, “Don’t be a chatterbox, chatterbox, chatterbox.” >> Across the aisle, two gentlemen in publishing are having >> a little talk about how most trade house editors get their MSS >> from agents now, and how, with the “whole anthrax thing” >> folks are much less inclined to be reading unsolicited work. >> I make a note of that, and wait to be called for breakfast. >> >> --Halvard Johnson >> >> >> >> ================ >> [log in to unmask] >> [log in to unmask] >> http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard >> http://entropyandme.blogspot.com >> http://imageswithoutwords.blogspot.com > > Douglas Barbour 11655 - 72 Avenue NW Edmonton Ab T6G 0B9 (780) 436 3320 the precision of openness is not a vagueness it is an accumulation cumulous bpNichol