perwinkle

A few years ago, I looked at various pieces of prose I had written and I realized how much pain there was. I wanted so badly to write something different, but every time I wrote it came out the same--or worse, it sounded forced. It is only now that I see how dark a time I was living in my life. Having come out of that time, I see that I longed to write about what I did not know. I could not write with the honesty I desired when my desired subject simply was not my reality.

I had been asked why I thought it was that it is easier to find dark poetry that is good. I did not have a real answer then. Maybe I do now. It is likely to be because pain forces us to be real. Humanity is seldom happy long enough to record it and deep enough to communicate it genuinely and deeply. It is a world at war, and, when we are honest, we cannot pretend any differently. We all carry our weapons beside our wounds in one form or another. Even those who find true joy, cannot honestly deny the evidence of an inherited curse. It weighs on us all, but it is not eternal.

Richard Gray

I met Richard in the train station. It was my first train ride. I was alone, on my way home from college for Thanksgiving. He couldn't comprehend the computer to purchase his ticket. That's how I started talking with him and found out his name. In the three or four hours following, I would learn a good deal about him including his love of the train. He informed me over and again that it is superior to the bus. I needed no convincing on that point.

Eventually, I found myself eating a dinner Richard paid for at a nearby McDonald's. I didn't have any money, and I hadn't had dinner though it was after 10:00pm. I paid for the food by listening to stories. I learned about ultra-light aircraft and Native American traditions. He wore his years unashamedly, going over some stories two or three times and proving to have had a few hard run ins with the world. Not overly bitter, but no longer optimistic, Richard informed me that I would probably live to see the fall of America. His reasoning was more unique than most and the scene reminded me of some sort of movie. He stopped in the middle to get us more food. I wasn't sure if I was hungry, but that didn't matter. He looked at me, told me I was skinny, and handed me a burger.

"They used to teach you how to think and how to get ahead, but now all they teach you is how to be a team player." He leaned over our hamburgers and told me that I had to believe him. Even if I was young and he was old, I should listen. Having listened, I'm not sure what to do with the information.

Richard seemed to me to be the most average elderly man I had ever met. He had met success by work, though he admits, not as much work as some failures he knew had put in. He had lived in several states including Oregon, Alaska, and Arizona. He had been married and I got the impression that his wife had passed away some time ago. He had tried to attend a Bible college, specifically the one I am currently at; but they took issue with his motorcycle and his cigarettes, so he left. He claims God to be more forgiving than the school. I don't doubt him. I wouldn't have it any other way.

When I left him, he had fallen asleep against a wall of the train station. It was 1 am. I boarded my train. It's unlikely that I'll see him again. I don't know if he'd remember me and I don't know what I'd do if I ran into him. But he kept me company and fed me for a night, and I am thankful. The return trip was lonelier and longer. I met a conductor who must have been trained in either the military or law enforcement. She was a short, black woman who terrified anyone sitting in a place she didn't like.

There was Mexican lady two seats behind me with three children all under eight years old. Somewhere between her Spanish and English she failed to keep them in check. The most memorable line definitely being, "Georgey, stop going savage on that chair!" If it ever was a possibility, I will never now be able to name my child Georgey. The girl next to me just rolled her eyes, checked the time, and rolled over again. I would have preferred sitting next to a talkative Richard, but there are only so many Richards.