2003-01-17 - 1:19 p.m.
Once again, the faster I run, the behinder I get. This entry is really yesterday�s entry.
DREAMING IN TRAINS
Despite years of marriage, Mr. Philately and I sometimes inhabit different worlds. In my world, the differences between satin, crepe, denim, and sheeting are key as are words such as dart, gather, and seam allowance. In my world, the fine points of girl scout cookie selling, the rules of a mock trial competition, and school funding issues not only matter but preoccupy. His world? Perforations, overprints, flats, spotlights, n-gauge steam engines, and stamp dealers. But over the years, the worlds occasionally overlap in the oddest ways, which is how I found myself dreaming in trains.
Mr. Philately has been a train buff as long as I�ve known him. His office is filling with pictures of trains and train memorabilia. Our bedroom contains a prize possession: a World War I poster exhorting railroad men to do their part. He delights in taking the train to Chicago when he has to go there on business. Trains are never very far from his mind.
For short periods, trains are simply in the background as other hobbies take prominence. But the trains are always there. A partially completed n-gauge model train layout sits behind my furnace. That layout is the same one that threatened to overtake my sewing machine back in our apartment in Brooklyn�the one that I promised to cite in divorce proceedings if it ever ran over the sewing machine. His eyes light up when trains are mentioned. He reads newspaper articles about trains.
Me, I usually ignore trains. Yes, I took my girl scout troop to Chicago by train. Yes, on our honeymoon we took Amtrak from New York to Montreal and then Canadian rail from Montreal to St. John. (Having traveled on our trains and their trains, I recommend the Canadian trains.) But in-between, I just don�t devote much of my thought to trains.
So, it was a great surprise to me this morning when I read of scenic Canadian rail trips and thought �I�d like to do that. We could have a very good time.� I even committed myself to the dream enough to say, �Hey, Mr. Philately, look at this. When the kids are out of the house, we should take some time and take one of these trips.� He wasn�t sure he heard me correctly. He looked quizzical. I continued to talk about the possibility. He now looked bemused.
Maybe dreams, like viruses, are catching. If so, this one takes a LOT of exposure. But, whatever the reason, this marriage is starting to weaken me. I�m dreaming in trains.
Finally
LAST FIVE ENTRIES:
Sorry
Where�s the Snow?
Everything�s Going My Way
In the Dumps
Blame It On...
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
