All Aboard!

Maryland Mark

May 31, 2020

The Ellicott City Station in Ellicott City, MD is the oldest remaining passenger train statin the in the U.S. - built 1830

Hear that lonesome whippoorwill He sounds too blue to fly

The midnight train is whining low I'm so lonesome I could cry

- I’m So Lonesome I could Cry – Hank Williams (1949)

On this morning’s walk, the earth began to tremble, and a distant steady rumbling grew in my ears. As the trembling and the rumbling grew, I knew it was coming. I cringed and lifted my shoulders up to my ears in anticipation – the CSX coal train bound for Baltimore was about to fully announce its arrival.

The blast! The sudden long low wail of the train’s air horn. No longer a train whistle, the air horn is heard for miles. I usually welcome the trembling, rumbling, and horn, but this time was different. This time I heard a deep plaintive cry – a lonely cry. As if the world is on that train and gone - it sounded melancholy.

But first the trains. Where I live in central Maryland, restored small-town railroad stations dot the landscape. In my hometown, Ellicott City, the station stands at the end of the Oliver Viaduct (as a museum). Nearby Sykesville station stands proud (now a restaurant) and up the road Mt. Airy has restored its station (now a pharmacy) along with the railroad storage building (now a bicycle shop). And so it goes, Lineboro, Woodsboro, Walkersville, Westminster, Laurel, Taneytown, Frederick, and Union Bridge have restored stations. These are picturesque anchors to the past – we won’t let them go.

H. Roger Grant writes about these stations in Classic Trains magazine. At the turn of the century… Ah, at the turn of the last century, by World War I, there were an estimated 50,000 stations in the United States.

Grant continues, “virtually everyone knew its location, the name of the agent, and the services it provided. The depot [station] served as the link to the outside world.

In many towns, the station agent was probably as well known as the pastor, priest or physician… Virtually all merchandise and the U.S mail arrived and left by rail… Occasionally he became the “reading man” helping individuals who had no or limited reading ability. And, of course, the agent knew Morse Code.”

And the melancholy? Maybe you are feeling it – from the virus. David Kessler tells the Harvard Business Review that feeling is grieving. He notes just as going to the airport forever changed after 9/11, things are changed by the virus. The stages of grief apply to the virus:

“There’s denial, which we say a lot of early on: This virus won’t affect us. There’s anger: You’re making me stay home and taking away my activities. There’s bargaining: Okay, if I social distance for two weeks everything will be better, right? There’s sadness: I don’t know when this will end. And finally, there’s acceptance. This is happening; I have to figure out how to proceed.”

Kessler has added a sixth stage - meaning:

“I did not want to stop at acceptance when I experienced some personal grief. I wanted meaning in those darkest hours. And I do believe we find light in those times. Even now people are realizing they can connect through technology. They are not as remote as they thought. They are realizing they can use their phones for long conversations. They’re appreciating walks. I believe we will continue to find meaning now and when this is over.”

In other words, we carry last century’s train station in our pockets – a link to the outside world.

Yes, the train left the station. But another train is coming. When the next train arrives, we will be waiting at the station.

Life is like a mountain railway, With an engineer that’s brave; We must make the run successful, From the cradle to the grave; Heed the curves, the fills, the tunnels; Never falter, never fail; Keep your hands upon the throttle, And your eyes upon the rail.