Gunpowder Tea and me

Bobbie Casey 2013-1950's?

This day on this train heading for New Mexico I will not forget. The Indian chief came into the dining car where we were having luncheon with mom when Superman asked if he could join us for there WAS an empty seat, after-all. The Indian chief told us that we had better get on with it for a dust storm was on the way and we would be right in the midst of it soon enough. I was stuck on the dessert menu. I really wanted to taste the gunpowder tea. I could see the chef at the middle of the car surrounded with what looked to me to be steel everything. Shiny and hot he looked to me. Man I was really happy to be a little kid right then, except my little sister kept kicking me under the table. I still do not know why she did that. The Indian Chief came back to tell us all about the landscape and the people who dwell here in this desertscape. I made up this word, I think. The animals and vegetables and minerals and how each needs to survive. Even rocks disappear if enough water comes along long enough. You can imagine what I was thinking. . .an Indian Chief, Superman, Mom, 2 girls and a man in a white tall hat plus a gillion other people sitting around eating and moving at the very same time. We were all moving down the tracks as fast as this train would go. It is pretty hot in this place, too hot, I think. When I grow up I want to paint and draw all that I see or think I see. I think I see more than anybody else. I notice things. I notice the looks on everybody's faces and I figure out what they are thinking, I think so, anyways. When I tell my sister that, she thinks I am making up stories. They are real to me. Mom always tells me to relax. It is going to be alright. But I keep having a feeling that that is just not so. This thought I am keeping to myself, though.

Reading Railroad

Reading Railroad

Monopoly,again, just thinking about how something so tiny, 

so subtle, so below the surface of consciousness will affect 

your entire life. If I ever have a question, if I wonder or 

wander in the maze of my life, it comes to the same place,

those light-bulb moments pregnant with possible avenues 

to explore, can it make or break it?

My mother used to tell me if I asked a question to go look it up in the Encyclopedia, now I Google it.

I still say, "Whatever you do PLEEEEZE don't throw me in that brier patch," when that is exactly what I want.

It is a language of symbols, something means something, it really does. A language all of ones own. Sometimes, it does not come easily or in a timely manner or maybe never.

Or maybe when you least expect it. It comes in a dream or a daydream, fuzzy at first, but suddenly it becomes crystal clear and you wonder why you didn't think of that before, now. I am on the Reading Railroad.