Archives for posts with tag: transportation

Paul Kempner
The Trains Must Run on Time Even if the Cars Are Empty
by Howard Richard Debs

I have ridden the New Haven Line
on the Metro-North Railroad
coming in from New Rochelle
with stops along the way
at Pelham, Mt. Vernon East,
Botanical Garden, Tremont,
Melrose, Harlem
to end the run at
Grand Central Station
cathedral of train terminals
where people from all
these and other places
stream together in what
seem constant waves
filling the cavernous halls
to fulsome measure
for now, not so.
He works the Hudson Line,
starts at Poughkeepsie,
I’ve been there too, on
the way to Hyde Park
up the river to dine at
The Culinary Institute
of America, wondering
why the Hudson Line
didn’t extend that far;
it follows the river,
where the Sloop
Clearwater sails,
the organization emblem
of Pete Seeger’s dream;
soon they will restream
their Music Festival,
for now the virtual Great
Hudson River Revival
an annual call to
environmental action,
for now without echoes
on the river’s banks.
The train goes through
Beacon, Peekskill, Dobbs Ferry,
Yonkers, Riverdale, Yankees,
few tickets punched for that stop,
for now. He tells of
passengers who no longer
ride, the nonagenarian lawyer
who went into work in Manhattan
almost every day, and took the
last train going home. He’d
hold her bags and help her
down the platform. She
doesn’t travel into the city
for now, but he has her
number and they text each other—
for now.

PHOTO: Pictured is Paul Kempner, who has worked 22 years as a conductor for the Metro-North Railroad in New York. Photo by Stephen Wilkes, used with permission

Included quote from article by Marilyn Milloy, reprinted with permission, AARP The Magazine, Copyright 2020 AARP.  All rights reserved. Metro-North Railroad route map, used with permission

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The theme for this series is Prime Movers, focusing, rightly so, on the people who keep things going in these harrowing times, people like Paul Kempner. But infrastructure, institutions, organizations, also have a major role as prime movers in a real sense too. The Metro-North Railroad is one such entity. For information about an important way those who may wish to do so can help others during the pandemic and receive a special gift for such help go to TrainsMustRun and thank you for that.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Howard Richard Debs is a recipient of the 2015 Anna Davidson Rosenberg Poetry Award. His essays, fiction, and poetry appear internationally in numerous publications. His photography is featured in select publications, including in Rattle online as “Ekphrastic Challenge” artist and guest editor. His book Gallery: A Collection of Pictures and Words (Scarlet Leaf Publishing), is the recipient of a 2017 Best Book Award and 2018 Book Excellence Award. His new chapbook Political, (Cyberwit.net) will be released in October 2020. He is co-editor of New Voices: Contemporary Writers Confronting the Holocaust, forthcoming in 2021 from Vallentine Mitchell of London, publisher of the first English language edition of the diary of Anne Frank. He is listed in the Poets & Writers Directory.

Operators on Left in New Brown and Maroon Uniform Next to Operator on Right in Old Blue Uniform with Trolley Coach at Presidio Yard | April 23, 1968

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Free Ride
by Vince Gotera

As a kid in San Francisco, waiting for a bus,
in morning fog, to go to school, I would see
the 6 Masonic appear magically out of what
was essentially a deep, soft cloud resting

on the earth. The bus would shoulder its way
through thick mist like a green and yellow
Triceratops, the loud hiss of its air brakes,
a breathy sound, punctuating its slow approach.

The slight ozone scent of the trolleys arcing
above would counterpoint the salty taste
of the cool air, wafting through the city
from Ocean Beach, from the Pacific.

Getting on the bus, I’d hold out the student
Muni cardboard punch card, and the driver,
big beard like a black Santa, rather than
punching out one of the 10 rides, would click

the air above my hand and card: a free trip.
He smiled huge every morning, glad to be
giving a schoolboy a boost. I bet that man
is wrangling a Muni bus up in heaven today!

PHOTOS: Top — Bus operator with trolley coach at Presidio Yard, San Francisco, April 23, 1968, SFMTA photo archive, used by permission. Bottom — A student punch card from the San Francisco Muni. Shot by Ronald Reiss, from the webpage “Transfers Tell Stories of Muni History,” Muni Diaries, June 4, 2012. 

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The poem is not about an essential worker during our quarantine time but rather an essential worker from my childhood. I used to see this bus driver every day and he was the essence of generosity in my young mind.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Vince Gotera is a Professor of English at the University of Northern Iowa, where he served as Editor of the North American Review (2000-2016). He was also Editor of Star*Line, the print journal of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association (2017-2020). His poetry collections include Dragonfly, Ghost Wars, Fighting Kite, The Coolest Month, and the upcoming Pacific Crossing. Recent poems appeared in the journals Abyss & Apex, Altered Reality Magazine, Crab Orchard Review, Dreams & Nightmares, Ekphrastic Review, Philippines Graphic (Philippines), Rosebud, Stone Canoe, and the anthologies Multiverse (UK) and Hay(na)ku 15. He blogs at The Man with the Blue Guitar.

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LOCOMOTION
by Philip Bryant

I heard the
locomotion behind
the album by Monk my father
was playing.
The finely tuned
machine humming like
a top, purring like a kitten.
 
The first time I
saw the Santa Fe “Super Chief”
at Union Station in Chicago,
gleaming as a silver bullet
carrying the blue uniformed
conductor who gave a low whistle
and “All Aboard” for places as far away as Kansas,
Laredo, Tucson, Las Vegas, Palm Springs.
 
At that point
I knew it all had
something to do with jazz music.
The slow hiss of
the engine, the steam
let out by the jowls of the locomotive,
and the massive, muscular wheels turning
slowly counterclockwise to the engine’s beat
 
Come on Baby Do the Locomotion
Come on Baby Do the Locomotion With Me
 
heading out onto the open tracks,
that smoke-blown phrase repeated
over and over in my head through the years,
as miles of the real American landscape
began, slowly, to unfold.

Photo: ”Santa Fe Super Chief at Chicago’s Dearborn Station”  (closed in 1971) by Harold A. Edmonson, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Music mentioned “Locomotive” by Philip Bryant: “Locomotive” byThelonius Monk – from his album Straight, No Chaster (1967) – listen to “Locomotive” here“The Loco-Motion” (1962) written by Gerry Goffin and Carole King led to a dance craze of the same name — watch Little Eva perform “The Loco-Motion” at this link.

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SUBWAY RUSH HOUR
by Langston Hughes

Mingled
breath and smell
so close
mingled
black and white
so near
no room for fear. 

 PHOTO: “New York subway, 1969” by Ralph Crane, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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SUBWAY TO THE FUTURE (Excerpt)

by Jesús Salvador Treviño

I held the copper subway token up close and examined it. The outer part of the circular slug had a complex crisscross pattern imprinted on it and in its center there was an aluminum plug…The token read Good for One Fare on one side, and on the other side, New York City Transit Authority. As I held the token, I realized just how much it meant to me. When I had first pulled it out of Mrs. Romero’s sinkhole on that Saturday morning so long ago, along with the autographed picture of Carmen Miranda and a pair of sunglasses, it had, in an instant, crystallized my decision to leave Arroyo Grande. I had dreamed of New York and an acting career for years, but always felt it was a hopeless goal, a silly dream. But the moment I picked the token out of the sinkhole, my life changed. Suddenly, New York didn’t seem so far away. It was as if the token was urging me on, saying, “Yes, Julia, you can become that actress. Just go to New York! Look, here’s your first subway ride!” 
***
“Subway to the Future” appears in Jesús Salvador Treviño’s short story collection The Skyscraper that Flew and Other Stories, available at Amazon.com.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jesús Salvador Treviño  is an American television director of Mexican descent. He has directed episodes of the television series Resurrection Blvd., Babylon 5, Crusade, Bones, Star Trek: Voyager, seaQuest DSV, Crossing Jordan, Third WatchStar Trek: Deep Space Nine, Criminal Minds, Prison Break, The O.C., ER, Law & Order: Criminal Intent, Dawson’s Creek, Chicago Hope, and NYPD Blue. He is the recipient of the prestigious Directors Guild Award and two Alma Awards for Outstanding Director of a Prime Time Television. As a writer, his work includes the short story collections The Fabulous Sinkhole and Other Stories and The Skyscraper That Flew. In a recent interview, he said, “I have devoted my life to opening up opportunities for Latinos in media so we can create positive, realistic portrayals of who we are.”

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THE SACRED
Poem by Stephen Dunn

After the teacher asked if anyone had
            a sacred place
and the students fidgeted and shrank
 
in their chairs, the most serious of them all
            said it was his car,
being in it alone, his tape deck playing
 
things he’d chosen, and others knew the truth
            had been spoken
and began speaking about their rooms,
 
their hiding places, but the car kept coming up,
            the car in motion,
music filling it, and sometimes one other person
 
who understood the bright altar of the dashboard
            and how far away
a car could take him from the need
 
to speak, or to answer, the key
            in having a key
and putting it in, and going. 

Photo: Paul Gorbould

“The Sacred” by Stephen Dunn is included in Good Poems, American Places Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor. Find the book at Amazon.com.

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RUNNING ON EMPTY
Poem by Robert Phillips

As a teenager I would drive Father’s
Chevrolet cross-county given me
 
Reluctantly: “Always keep the tank
Half full, boy, half full, ya hear?”
 
The fuel gauge dipping, dipping
Toward Empty, hitting Empty, then
 
–thrilling—way below Empty,
myself driving cross-county

mile after mile, faster and faster,
all night long, this crazy kid driving
 
the earth’s rolling surface,
against all laws, defying chemistry,
 
rules, and time, riding on nothing
but fumes, pushing luck harder
 
than anyone pushed before, the wind
screaming past like the Furies…
 
I stranded myself only once, a white
Night with no gas stations open, ninety miles
 
From nowhere. Panicked for a while,
At a standstill, myself stalled.
 
At dawn the car and I both refilled. But,
Father, I am running on empty still. 

Note: Robert Phillips, born in 1938, refers to himself as a “teenager” in this poem, so I’m guessing he might have driven a 1954 Chevy when he was 16.

Source: Find this and scores of other remarkable poems in Drive, They Said: Poems About Americans and Their Cars, an excellent anthology edited by Kurt Brown (Milkweed Editions, 1994) — available at Amazon.com. 

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“Vision without execution is just hallucination.”   HENRY FORD

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Photos: Stoskopfs with 1957 Ford Fairlane, John C. Stoskopf, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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RUNNING ON EMPTY

Poem by Robert Phillips

As a teenager I would drive Father’s
Chevrolet cross-county given me
 
Reluctantly: “Always keep the tank
Half full, boy, half full, ya hear?”
 
The fuel gauge dipping, dipping
Toward Empty, hitting Empty, then
 
–thrilling—way below Empty,
myself driving cross-county

mile after mile, faster and faster,
all night long, this crazy kid driving
 
the earth’s rolling surface,
against all laws, defying chemistry,
 
rules, and time, riding on nothing
but fumes, pushing luck harder
 
than anyone pushed before, the wind
screaming past like the Furies…
 
I stranded myself only once, a white
Night with no gas stations open, ninety miles
 
From nowhere. Panicked for a while,
At a standstill, myself stalled.
 
At dawn the car and I both refilled. But,
Father, I am running on empty still. 

Note: Robert Phillips, born in 1938, refers to himself as a “teenager” in this poem, so I’m guessing he might have driven a 1954 Chevy when he was 16.

Source: Find this and scores of other remarkable poems in Drive, They Said: Poems About Americans and Their Cars, an excellent anthology edited by Kurt Brown (Milkweed Editions, 1994) — available at Amazon.com (many copies are available for just 4 cents plus shipping). Highly recommended! 

Closing Thought: Our deep condolences to all those affected by Hurricane Sandy — many of whom are running on empty in ways too numerous to count (and not by choice).

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Winds from Hurricane Sandy washed this boat onto the tracks at the Metro-North’s Ossining Station in Ossining, New York. (MTA New York photo via AP)

Many post-Hurrican Sandy sights are surreal — just in time for Halloween. I can imagine the above scene of the boat on the train tracks in a Stephen King book! Maybe one is in the works.

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The above photo called to mind the great Surrealist — Belgian painter René Magritte (1898-1967).

Growing up in Chicago, I frequently visited the Art Institute, home of one of Magritte’s most discussed works “Time Transfixed” (included at right) — and was always fascinated by this painting (who wouldn’t be?).

According to Magritte: “I decided to paint the image of a locomotive . . . In order for its mystery to be evoked, [and] another immediately familiar image without mystery—the image of a dining room fireplace—was joined.”