That's Not My Name

 

The Poet Heroic published something by someone with a name close to mine.

Blown by the California Zephyr

Okay, so I'm going to talk about the latest trip I took across the country using the magic of the railroads. Yes, we still have them in America. And yes, you can go transcontinental the whole way. As long time readers (all three of you) of this blog know, I previously took Amtrak trains to Seattle and Los Angeles in two separate trips. This time, I am going to recount my experience differently. The engine will not be moving forward in time. No, the engineer has gone crazy folks! We're going in reverse, backing up all the way to Emeryville, California! Which means starting with my time on the Lake Shore Limited. It dropped me off in Penn Station, after passing through Albany and Chicago. Before then, I had lunch all aboard.

Vegetarian Kofta with Basmati Rice and Curried Cauliflower

I ate it here in this dining car

My Roomette came with in-built toilet and fold-out sink. It was like being an astronaut in low, low orbit

Working on the train

Even though we left late (9:30 PM), they were kind enough in the dining car
to give us cheese, crackers, and in my case, champagne

Unlimited taste on the Lake Shore Limited!!!

I took he train the whole way, from Chicago to New York City. Here you can see the view I had from the Willis Tower. Yes, the very top of the Willis Tower. No better view of Chicago, no sir. But how did I get there? By riding another train, the California Zephyr! It was my means of conveyance across the Mighty Mississippi River. No more fording with oxen for me.

Now since the trip on the Zephyr was about twice as long as the Lake Shore Limited, I got to enjoy more meals aboard. Here is an omelet I ate during my last morning on the train. It had sundried tomatoes on it, a la 1997. It came with a flaky croissant and some pretty good roast potatoes. They had a kind of creamy consistency to them.

We stopped in Denver the previous evening. The Zephyr stood still for about an hour. During that time, I took in Union Station, the State Capitol, a game at Coors Field, and the Denver International Airport.

Or maybe just Union Station

We pulled in there after dinner. That night I had the blueberry strudel cheesecake, the steak, and the shrimp tempura appetizer. A complimentary glass of white wine was involved. During this time the train had to go backwards into the station. 

High above the mile-high city

First time being awake for the Rockies!

The secret of Coors

Boot-shaped rock

The Zephyr took me over several ranges of the Rocky Mountains, past various rivers and creeks, through dry basins, and along canyons. There were tall trees, precarious boulders, and rapids that were, um, rapid. All of which I could observe during an afternoon in the observation car.

The breakfast quesadilla. Also came with a croissant and potatoes. A NAFTA meal.

After my first night on the train, I woke up to see Utah towering over me. It was a welcome sight following an evening spent swaying back and forth in Club Amtrak.

But I could sleep with a full stomach at least. There was rice, and beans, and salmon that was oddly covered in a lobster sauce. A glass of wine too and a salad with bits of brie to compliment it all.

A little taste of the Zephyr

Another taste

Speaking of taste, Donner Lake, California

Though my conditions were cramped, I had my privacy, courtesy of curtains. They remained drawn most of the time I was on board. This fabric covered up my window, my door, and the window in my door. Good sturdy Velcro kept it in place. Not that I was completely shut out from the world. When I sensed I was near something worthwhile to look at, I ripped the curtains away from their holdings and looked out my window. 

I saw where all the air fresheners come from

Lunch options were limited. Pictured: hamburger

I was on the second floor

The golden west of California

San Pedro Bay, one of the few views that didn't involve going by a refinery

1980s problems require 1980s solutions

No WiFi

We set off from Emeryville, California in the morning. Unfortunately we were delayed by an hour and a half. I got to the station by flying from LaGuardia to San Francisco. No pictures of that trip survive because I dropped my phone from the plane. Since it landed on the western side of the Continental Divide, I caught it bobbing up and down in the bay. Here is me waiting to board the train. A hulking behemoth that managed to swallow me whole like Jonah. Didn't give me too much trouble until we hit Nebraska of all places. Then the thing buckled and shook like a sandworm, as if it was angry at being forced to enter the Cornhusker State. 

Art?

Put the U in UCity Review, by Reading these Poems

 

A Ford Escape Hybrid and David Duchovny

The UCity Review, which is located in the shadow of Washington University in St. Louis, has published 11 poems of mine. They deal with a variety of topics that range from the TV show Californication, to horses, from kayaking on the Potomac to getting a dick drawn on your face.

Strolling Down Aether Avenue

 

Hello, hello. Happy greetings from March. Two poems of mine were published in Aether Avenue. One is about Desertification and the other is based on my trips riding Amtrak from coast to coast. 

On Comedy, Transportation, and Sundays

 

A brutally honest reply to an invitation to watch a friend's sketch show. Completely hypothetical. Thanks to Disturb the Universe. 

Chew on This

 

It's a poem at Chewers and Masticadores about the planet earth. Kinda.

Eisenhower on the Beach

Enter through the gift shop

In search of outdoor activities to do in the time of Covid, I came upon the Eisenhower Memorial in DC. The Dwight D. Eisenhower Memorial that is. Yes, I too was surprised it was for him and not his college presidential powerhouse of a brother Milton S. Eisenhower. For years I had heard about it being planned, entailing the usual fights between designers, architects, historians, locals, and the family of the honoree. When I moved to Brooklyn, it seemed to still be in the ether between drawing and argument. Now it is finished, completed and dedicated by America’s real president. That’s right, Joe Manchin.

A bird's eye view. Explains the lack of pigeons.

This is the Lay of Ike. The memorial is located south of the National Mall, near the Air and Space Museum. I suppose it is fitting. The man helped build suburban mall culture and he established NASA. Not that you would learn anything about that from the spread of metal and marble in front of the Department of Education. More on that later. The Memorial has no central point. Its elements are scattered across a plaza without a central point of focus. Instead, there are two bas-relief sculptures and two large columns at either side of the park. Behind them is a sort of mesh fixture elevated above the plaza. At night it is supposed to light up and depict the Normandy Landings (D-Day, not Hastings). 

The recent toppling of Rebel monuments has begun a conversation about the nature of memorialization itself. Not just who is to be honored, but how and to what purpose. Unfortunately, the planning for the Eisenhower Memorial happened before these issues came to the forefront of public debate. Not that those responsible for constructing the site are ignorant of them. Debates about memorials were present in academia before they became prominent in the summer of 2020. Still, one wonders how this memorial would look given the fallout of the George Floyd protests. Not that Eisenhower was a unworthy subject who should have been ignored. Then again, he has been absent on the National Mall for decades and Americans seemed more or less able to go on without pausing to remember him. 

blah, blah, blah tell us about the MIC!

Personal merit, necessity, or legacy aside, there other questions to consider behind the purpose of a memorial. At one time, the idea was to provoke a kind of reverence in a secular temple. Think of the Lincoln Memorial, which brings one up a series of steps to stand under the imposing figure of Lincoln. All white and made of stone, he sits in judgment of the country. After one is done bowing and supplicating below the 16th president, it is time to look elsewhere. Now the view centers on the moving text of the Gettysburg Address. The whole process transforms Lincoln into a holy figure for the nation. He is the martyr who managed to midwife the republic through the birth pangs of a new freedom. 

Gradually this approach fell out of favor. An emphasis on movements, particularly involving Women and People of Color emerged. When the “great men” (and women) of history were so memorialized, their monuments became less about reverence and more about education. This might occur through symbolism, or more often than not, actual text, preferably from the speeches of the person being depicted. The FDR Memorial and the WWII Memorials come out of this development. The experience is not of one central figure or architectural feature, but of many disparate elements.  Gone is the temple or shrine. They have been replaced by open-air museums. This does pose a new set of challenges. How do you convey so much information about a figure or an event without overwhelming the spectator?

Will it get some wind for the sailboat?

The Eisenhower Memorial goes with a minimal approach. It deals little with public perception of Ike, the details of his life, the context of his times, or the effects of his presidency. Eschewing all that, the man’s life is condensed to a couple symbolic vignettes. The approach can be likened to the opera Einstein on the Beach, where snippets of Einstein’s life and work are abstracted to the limits of recognition. Here, Eisenhower is a boy in Abilene. Then, he is a general. Finally, he is a president. Three acts with no drama.

What war did he win? It isn’t clear. Who did we fight? It wasn’t mentioned. Why did we fight? A mystery. According to the available statuary, Eisenhower was simply a general raising a fist at beleaguered troops. The effect is not inspiring. He reminds one of the blowhard officers from Catch-22. His presidency is a foggy recollection in bronze as well. The two decent things he did in office, enforcing desegregation, and condemning the military industrial complex (which, to be fair, he built) go unmentioned. All we see of Eisenhower c. 1953 to 1961 is standing around with people from his administration in the midst of doing something presidential. The firm of Nixon & Dulles & Dulles is nowhere to be seen, presumably off in the distance plotting Operation PBSuccess. 

The site is being worked on and in development. The trees they planted are still growing. I presume there is time for other things to be added to the plaza. Maybe they will figure out a way to be nicer to the people working in the Department of Education. Once they had windows looking out on the Mall, and now the view is blocked by a post-modern Bayeux Tapestry. It displays an event they might deal with teaching, but they didn’t carry out! Meanwhile in Langley, their view isn’t obscured by a steel lattice depicting the Bay of Pigs. 

The littlest toilet

If you do want to learn more about President Eisenhower, there is a gift shop. Inside of it are many books with many words and pictures. There are footnotes and citations galore. Maybe that’s the real purpose of the memorial. Show the inadequacies of stone in order to bring people back to the page. Step one: draw tourists in who recognize the name. Step two: confuse them about the life of Ike. Step three: push people into buying books to explain why people liked him. One of the oldest scams in the…um…book. The site also has restrooms. I don’t know how the ladies’ side of the divide is, but the men’s room has the smallest toilet I’ve ever seen in DC. So it’s got that going for it.

Who cares about the founder of the highways, go look at some model trains instead

Ridin' the Rails, Part II: Sleepy Joe's Revenge

 

To read part one, click here

After spending the night in New Orleans it was time to take the Sunset Limited in the morning. I wish I could've stayed longer to debauch myself, but at least I had a fairly decadent bed. The New Orleans station is small, but they did have a waiting area for us special sleeping car passengers. While it was no Metropolitan Lounge, they did have a coffee pot and some baked goods, which were mostly still in their packaging.

Guess what's behind the doors? If you said gambling, you were right.

Alas, the roomette was not as interesting as the one I had aboard the Crescent. There was no toilet near my bed, no hidden sink for me to use for my ablutions. The way the bed folded down also meant I could not turn it into an Amtrak-Style folding desk. But there were some differences in my favor. The dining car was open. That meant eating in style, with three course meals while watching the country go by. More importantly, the Sunset Limited has an observation car. It was where I spent most of my time when I was not using my sleeping car for sleep.

Laptop case for scale

Half of the time it was packed with Mennonites speaking Pennsylvania Dutch to one another while filling out coloring books

The observation cars, like the whole train, had no wi-fi (it puts the "limited" in the Sunset Limited) but they had outlets spread through the area. I spent my time at the tables but you can sit in one of the seats and imagine yourself on the deck of a spaceship. One that is hovering very low to the ground for some reason. The tables were a rare commodity. I had to park myself at one early and the day and stay there until lunch, if I wanted any chance of a place to spread out and work. For passengers not using the sleeping cars, they provided an area to eat. Under this level, the Sunset Limited keeps its regular café area. Normally the seating around it would be open too, but because of Covid it was closed off.

As mentioned above, the meals were more elaborate. Unlike my past trip on the Empire Builder, everybody sat by themselves while eating. I can't say if this was a good or bad thing. Last time I did meet some interesting people from North Dakota, but there were also plenty of silent meals. Some people just aren't talkers. Especially if they haven't had their morning coffee or their evening whiskey. The dining cars are only for the sleeper car passengers and while I sat in the observation deck I watched the other riders curiously wander over, only to be turned back time and time again. I imagine it wasn't too bad for them. The staff were friendly while waiting on me. 

Lobster Cake: I thought it was good, a nice amuse bouche in a sense before the main course

The steak was decent, I normally don't eat much of it to be honest let alone in a brown sauce. But it was a nice cut and the vegetables were well done. I enjoyed the polenta it came with as well. 

The desserts were probably the best thing on the menu

The French Toast was good, but then again it's a hard dish to mess up. It didn't taste eggy, which is a plus. Not pictured: a side of breakfast sausage I ordered

A simple lunch, I got a grilled cheese sandwich with bacon. It was advertised as "artisanal" but, anyway, it was bacon. Pictured: wine. The choices are limited, but when the view is great, who cares?

The cheesecake. For some reason I forgot to get a picture of the carrot cake, which was my favorite on the trip.

There were some ethnic options. They had tortellini (which I avoided since I make enough of it in NYC) and a tamale. It was good, and the salsa verde was a nice addition.

The chicken. Yes, it looks like the steak. But notice, no potato! I liked it. The sauce was better than the one that came with the steak.

The Sunset Limited took me past Lake Charles, Houston, and San Antonio. I went over the Mississippi, and saw Cajun Country. Refineries and above-ground graves sat side by side. The swamps and bayous gradually gave way to the plains. Cattle and horses grazed on them. Neither seemed startled by us. Yes, I ate my steak while looking at them. 

The depressingly small Houston train station

I woke up in the big bend of the Rio Grande. Now things were arid and the ground rough and rocky. Cacti and other desert plants dotted the landscape. Compared with my time on the Empire Builder (and at a similar longitude), the scenery was more engaging. 

The titular mountain. The title itself I forget, but it was obviously titular

It was like being in a Western, in part because even the cell service was down now. We went by Marfa, but saw no lights. A couple of hours later, I understood just how big Texas was. Thirty minutes after that, we were in El Paso. 

El Paso, where all the Mennonites on the train got off.

There's a woman who comes by to sell burritos to the passengers. She's got enough renown in these parts to get an announcement from the crew when the train pulls into the station. I wasn't able to get one, but wandered through the station instead. Compared to Houston it's much nicer and spacious. However like Houston there's nothing inside of it. All of the extra levels are occupied by an architectural college. 

We were somewhere near Lordsburg, NM when the wine began to take hold and I took a nap

The Sunset Limited made its way out of Texas and into New Mexico, followed by Arizona. The clouds were just as impressive as the brown rock formations. There were salt flats as well, which seemed to mirror the white of all the nimbuses above us. I had my final meals of the journey near Tucson, entering the heart of the Gadsden Purchase. As I slept, the train rolled on. It took me and the other passengers over the Colorado River and past Yuma, Arizona. I actually woke up at this point because it was so damn hot outside. 93 degrees at 1 in the morning. 

But I fell back asleep and when I woke up, we were on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Palm Springs, then Ontario, and finally Randy Newman's favorite city. We were an hour late, which I was actually thankful for. Usually one wants to be on time. Yet the train normally gets in at 5:30 in the morning. This way I could arrive with more sunlight (despite the name of the route I was on). The Sunset Limited pulled into Union Station and I grabbed my things. it was all off-board now and they like to make quick sweep of things. As a whole, Union Station might be the nicest in the system. Shame that at 7 AM there's no place to eat except a Starbucks, a place hardly known for its food and only somewhat acknowledged for its drinks.