I must have been about eight when I embarked on my first train trip. It was midsummer, hot and humid in central Kansas, and time for my aunt
Winnie’s annual vacation from the IGA store, where she clerked six days a week. She invited me to join her on a trip to Manhattan, fifty miles
away, to visit her sister, my aunt Alice.
Alice was one of my favorite relatives. She kept a boardinghouse for college students, a two-story, brown brick building at the corner of
1200 Kearney Avenue. She was also a world-class cook, which kept her boardinghouse full of young people. As the youngest niece in Mother’s
extended family, the aunties all tended to spoil me rotten and Alice was no
exception. I was delighted to be invited to her house. Since I’d never ridden a train before, I
became more and more excited
as the magic day drew near. I asked Mother dozens of questions about train travel, but she just said, "Wait. You’ll see."
For an
eight-year-old, waiting was agonizing, but finally the big day arrived. Mother
had helped me pack the night before, and my little suitcase was bulging with summer sundresses, shorts and blouses, undies and pajamas. I was reading Billy Whiskers, a fantastic story about a goat that could pull his owner in a wagon, and I had stuffed that
in as well.
We arrived at the depot early, purchased our tickets and found our car. Aunt Winnie told me the conductor would punch the tickets every time we
stopped at a town along the way. She showed me how to put the ticket into a slot on the wall next to our seat. I was fascinated by the face-to-face
seats so some passengers could ride backwards. Why would anyone, I thought, want to see where they’d been? I only wanted to see
where I was going.
Aunt Winnie had packed a lunch for us to eat along the way. I was dying to know just what was in that lumpy shopping bag she carried, but
she, too, said, "Wait. You’ll see."
Finally, the conductor shouted, "All aboard!" to the stragglers on the platform. They climbed into the cars, the engineer blew the whistle
and clanged the bell, and we pulled out of the station.
This train stopped at every town between my home in Solomon and Manhattan. It was known as the "milk train" because at one time it had
delivered goods as well as passengers to these hamlets. I looked eagerly at
the signs at each depot. Abilene, Detroit, Chapman, Fort Riley,
Junction City. I’d been through all these towns by car, but this was different. The jiggling ride of the coaches, the soft brown plush seats, the
smells of the engine drifting back down the track and in through the open windows made this trip far more exotic.
The conductor, with his crisp back uniform and shiny billed hat, punching our tickets with his
silver punch, the twinkling signals that told the engineer when to stop and
go, thrilled me. To an adult, the trip must have seemed excruciatingly slow, but I reveled in every minute.
Midway, Aunt Winnie pulled down her shopping bag from the luggage rack above our seats. My eyes widened as she opened it and began to dole
out its contents. I had expected lunchmeat sandwiches, but instead there was a container of fried chicken, two hardboiled eggs, bread and butter wrapped in waxed paper, crisp radishes and slim green onions from
Winnie’s garden, as well as rosy sliced tomatoes. She had brought paper
plates, paper cups and some of the "everyday" silverware. A large bottle of cold tea was well wrapped in a dishtowel; the ice had melted, but it was still chilly. I cautiously balanced my plate on my knees and ate,
wiping my lips and fingers with a large paper napkin. This was living!
When we had cleaned our plates, Aunt Winnie dipped into the bag one more time. The best treat of all
emerged -- homemade brownies! Another cup of cold tea washed these down and then we carefully returned the debris
and silverware to the bag, which she tucked into the corner by her feet.
"Almost there," said my aunt, looking out the window at the scenery flying by. "This is Junction City; Manhattan is next."
And sure enough,
as we pulled into the Manhattan station, there was Aunt Alice waiting,
a smile like the sun lighting up her face, arms wide open.
