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Scelestious flight

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It was some time ago that I boarded this train. Close to 45 years now and it has been rolling along, coming to a few stops here and there. Sometimes dull, but never boring dear reader. Never boring.

In those 45 years of travel, I have tried to understand the ticking’s of man. I have tried to understand humanity, both the good and the bad. The train slows and picks up a few new riders and lets off a few more. Everyone has their story, their faith, but many come blind. They only see themselves, reflected in the window as the landscapes rolls past. Sometimes, there is not much to see, that is true, but then I make my way to other cars on the track, have a drink or two and talk, and listen.

Hemingway was good to talk with. Scary, but I have never forgotten our conversation. He told me that no matter how hard I tried, sometimes it still all came apart at the seams. It is like that sometimes, the conversations go to places that even I would rather shy away from. Kind of like politics. You know you should stay away and not talk about them, but when you do, you’re knee deep in.

Kennedy signed Executive Order 111101 and six months later, he was murdered. How do you like those apples? But that is a topic for late at night, when no-one is listening. And no-one is drinking. It’s about as grassroots as I get folks.

The train is pulling into another station. I can feel the big wheels beginning to slow. I am excited about this station. I can feel the quiver in my bones. Maybe here we will meet again? Maybe here I will take another step forward into my destiny. Maybe I will just grab a soda.

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