Railroads Revisited

About a year ago, I reviewed Gary Krist's book about an epic snowstorm in Washington's Cascade Mountains in 1910. There was an incredible amount of snowfall that trapped two trains, and then another storm blew in that caused a horrific avalanche. The trains were wiped off the hillside and nearly a hundred people lost their lives.

One important figure in the book was the great railroad magnate James J. Hill, whose quest for a passable route through the high Cascades led to the construction of the longest tunnel in the nation.

My family enjoys watching The History Channel, and last night I stumbled onto an episode of Extreme Trains that mentioned that very tunnel and that awful disaster. This episode was all about the Empire Builder train from Chicago to Seattle, and the climax of the show was this infamous section of the Cascades that claimed so many lives all those years ago. The episode is not available for online viewing, but perhaps will be rebroadcast a few more times. It was a great way to spend an hour while keeping company with napping dogs.

We Do Things Diff'rent Out West

Seen in Tacoma...
No cell coverage? Use a pay phone.
No change? Just face away from the wall.
Long distance? You'd better holler.
Get a fresh cup if you want a better connection.

Veneer or Solid Wood?

I caught part of an author interview on the radio yesterday. This very articulate woman said that one thing she'd learned in her "20 years on the street" was that how people perceived you affected how they treated you.

Well, yes, certainly. I felt badly about the mistreatment I imagined her experiencing, despite her excellent communication skills. A person's appearance is considered by others, and conclusions are drawn regarding such qualities as honesty, reliability, strength, maturity, approachability, education, and potential value. If a person looks poor or insecure or untrustworthy, strangers will keep their distance.

The radio interview brought me up short after a few moments when the host referred to the author's long career on Wall Street. Oh. That Street.

Okay, so Carla Harris is a businesswoman with more than a briefcase full of professional experience, and she has probably never been homeless. But still, her point about perceptions is excellent.

Ms. Harris went on to caution that whatever quality you'd like to be known for, you'd better be practicing that quality all. the. time. No breaks. For example, if you want people to think of you as having integrity, you must always maintain highest-level integrity. One slip will have greater prominence in their memories than the ten times you acted rightly.

When you get scratched like a piece of furniture, does the veneer come off or is there solid wood that can be sanded and refinished? The photo illustration is a detail of a sideboard that has been in my family for a hundred years. There is some veneer, but its heart is real wood. Solid. Enduring.

How important is it to establish and maintain a good reputation? It takes effort and consistency. More effort, more consistency. Is it worth it?


He who walks in integrity walks securely,
But he who perverts his ways will be found out.

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Happy Birthday, Gramma (shhh!)

Today would be my Gramma's 120th birthday, but it's a good thing she didn't hear me say that. Being the center of attention for any reason -- especially advanced age -- was never her thing.

Gramma enjoyed talking politics, although I seem to recall that only her view was right. She knew about plants and trees and could identify all sorts of native species by their common names. She loved her family, but was never mushy about it. Gramma was an independent woman, driving her car well into her 80's. It would be nice to place her photograph at the top of this post, but she didn't like cameras and they didn't like her. Although she smiled regularly in real life, that image was rarely caught on film.

Gramma grew up in Nebraska. Her father was a railroad station agent, and her mother's health necessitated at least one move to a gentler climate. Around the age of 13, Gramma lost her mother. A few years later, six tornadoes in a single day made Gramma decide to head West. She arrived in California just in time for an earthquake. She married a distant relative (but that's another story) and eventually moved to Washington State.

Gramma sometimes spent a weekend or holiday at our house, attending church and visiting. One time, driving me to an orthodontic appointment, she was yelled at by a man who felt she was driving too slowly. "He called me Grandma. Is that that nice man from your church? He always calls me that." It's not a bad thing to be slightly hard of hearing.

My parents had heard of an ointment to soothe tired feet. It was a white cream infused with menthol, and reeked to high heaven. Gramma must have been poking around in the bathroom before bed, and decided that was just the thing to put on her nose. How she closed her eyes with that stuff on her face (the fumes should have blown her eyelashes off!) was beyond our understanding, but she reported the next morning that she had slept well.

My Gramma taught me how to sew and embroider. She appreciated music and kept a piano in her home, and gave me a piano so I could take lessons. When I spent weekends with her, we'd go out to eat at Woolworth's lunch counter or El Toro at the mall. Breakfast was Corn Flakes, apple juice, and powdered milk. I suppose I could have learned from her how to make prune duff, but believe me, I never asked. I did ask about plant identification, and learned a little. Maybe the best thing I learned from Gramma was wonder. Wonder at nature, and wonder at human nature. People are, after all, complex and amusing creatures.

Happy Birthday, Gramma.

What's in a Name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet." (Romeo and Juliet, II, ii, 1-2)

There's a nice little book about prayer that I came across recently. The authors present a fresh view of what prayer is about, and it's quite a good book. I couldn't help but notice, however, that one author's name is misspelled. On every single page of the book. Okay, either it's wrong throughout the text or it's wrong on the cover, on the title page, and endpage bio.

People whose names are slightly unusual are often extra sensitive to names and how they're spelled, and we're used to disappointment when our own names are misspelled. I have a friend who is blind and uses screenreading software to listen to his emails. When we first became acquainted, I noticed that his usual spelling of other words is often phonetic (and therefore technically incorrect) but he always spelled my name right. When I asked how he knew, he said that names are important, so he makes it a practice to have new names spelled out until he memorizes them.

One of my readings this week brought another aspect of the importance of a name:

We give thanks to Thee, O God, we give thanks,
For Thy name is near;
Men declare Thy wondrous works.

Thy name is near. What is significant about God's name? His name stands for His character, His attributes, and His identity. Not only that, but He has adopted us so that we may take shelter under His name. Sure, God is near -- but everything for which He stands is also near. His reputation as Sovereign and Savior is at stake, all the time, on our behalf. These tremendous benefits never depend on correct spellings, or even on exact precision when we pray. His name is ever near.