Distination

The destination is not the goal. The journey is what it is all about especially if you might not know where or why. But I know for a fact that it is who is holding your hand while you are going somewhere that will mean the most to you when you do get there. Clark Kent sits down at your table in the dining car, of course, this part is absolutely true. He teaches you how to play cards. It does not take long to pick-up a bit of finesse and skill and strategy from someone who can fly when you need someone who can fly. It is that navigation skill that you keep close to your heart. You never know when you will really need it, it is good to feel that you can do anything like this, especially when it comes time to don a red cape and fly all by yourself. It is also great to be able to teach the other kids how to do this. It is a great thing when your little sis stands there with her finger in her mouth looking to see if you think this is a good thing or is this a bad thing. Responsible is how you feel. You can not ever ever let someone down. This is a good thing to hold close to your heart, too.

Mom would cry in her sleep. I made excuses for her to the other passengers. We never told her until much much later. I did not really know why she cried. I thought maybe it was that she did not have a lot of money in her purse. Mom never had a lot of money in her purse. She used to say that Dad thought if he doled it out a little at a time that she would have some money left, I mean. Dad was a rocket scientist. That is what my little sis always says. He did work on the space shuttle, the tiles, for sure, but I am getting far ahead of myself with telling this, right now. Anyways, to me he was my superman, for real. He taught me how to know where I am on this planet if I would just look at where the sun is or to observe what stars I could see, then I would know. He pointed out where they were shooting off atomic bombs in the desert. I saw the glow from one on a trip we took one year to Colorado in the car. We even drove through the fallout, for sure, really. This might be what is wrong with me. I just can not figure out why Dad is not with us on this trip.

It is a long way to go all the way to Chicago, first. then on to Grandmother's house. I see a lot of soldiers standing around in uniforms, so I ask somebody, "Hey Mister, What are the soldiers and sailors doing on this train?" It is so dark outside. I look up and all around at the lights and smoke is in the air from their cigarettes making it kind of hazy in the car. I am so tired. Superman is in another car. We met him upstairs where we could see for miles earlier this day. I wait for an answer. Mister Man ignores me. I am still wondering. This sailor with a cigarette in his hand almost touching me, I am afraid it is going to burn me or my mom who is asleep across the aisle from me, well he reaches over my seat to say, "Well, sweety pie, we are on our way to catch a ship bound for Korea." I ask, "What is Korea?" I wish my Dad were here right now. He would know. I wish I had my Encyclopedia Britannica nearby I would look it up. I hate to feel stupid about anything. My Dad always tells me to not be afraid to ask questions, but I am. Mom taps me on the shoulder and tells me to hush. So I do.              

Digger Dudley, now that is what I think about as I am falling to sleep.