Yesterday I took the train down to visit fellow blogger David who lives in mid-Missouri. (More, much more, on David later) Anyway, I love trains, as I've mentioned before. They seem historic and very Americana as you whistle along the back countrysides, back yards, and back roads of the country. Everything is slowed down and calm; there is no hurried atmosphere of today's life, just a refreshing reminder of how calm life could be if we tried to remember.

My father waited with me at the old train station in Independence, not too far from where he grew up and from our current home. He referenced all the physical changes he'd seen in the area around the station, his high school job at a long-gone hamburger joint, the old Icehouse out in the woods for those back then who didn't yet have the new-fangled refrigerators, and his first train ride with his father way back when trains were more common. (Ironically, the train ride he and his father took was to buy a new car for the family, paving the advances in modern transportation that would eventually leave the train system itself behind.) As we sat in his very modern SUV-styled pick-up truck waiting for the train to arrive, we listened to the radio where they detailed a biography of the late Hank Williams, who's death was now having its own 50th anniversary, perfectly highlighting the old-time world of yesteryear we were visiting while we make our way through the present.

I boarded the train via a make-shift stool, located an empty seat next to a long staring window, got out my papers, my food, my drinks, and made myself comfortable. As I looked around I felt an immediate connection with my fellow passengers. These are those that ride trains in today's world. Nowadays everybody flies, drives, honks, speeds, runs, hurries, rages, worries, takes off, lands, and nobody seems to make the time to enjoy the act of the travel anymore. These fellow travelers and I have chosen to take a different way down that same path and found a connection and inner sense of strength that lights us along the way.

Upon arriving in Jefferson City, the capital of Missouri, I took a seat outside the train station and waited for David to pick me up to take me the short distance to his home in Columbia. The train station is situated between the state capitol building and the governor's mansion. I couldn't help but reminisce about my time in this place exactly ten years ago in early January of 1993 when I was down here celebrating the inauguration of Governor-elect Mel Carnahan. Who could have guessed what would happen within the next ten years, with him dying and his wife becoming a Senator, and all the others strange happenings of Missouri. And who could have guessed what would happen with me and my life over those ten years.

This time of year, the changing of the annual calendar, and visiting Missouri, my home, always brings out so many thoughts, memories, and the reminiscing in me. It's good to have times like this to remember more about who you are and where you come from.