How A-1 Got Its Name, And Other Tall Tales

No meme is safe.

“So in the middle of the Civil War,” it says, “someone was like, You know what this country needs? A delicious steak sauce.”

And therein hangs a tale.

See, back in the day, the armies didn’t generally carry enough food

Dateline: Connellsville, PA

It’s lovely winding down through the Cumberland Gap in the wee hours, and when the train’s slightly behind schedule you might be fortunate enough to have the sun coming up as you do.  Some of the best sunrises in the world can be found here, overlooking the narrow stream from halfway up the side of one of the adjoining ridges.  The sun sparkles off the icy waterfalls coming down the sheer rockface; it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen, a view reserved exclusively for us.

Another of the fellows in the Lounge likes the sunrise in Jamaica, and who am I to argue?  After all, he’s been there and I haven’t.  We’ve been up half the night talking food trucks and pizza and native

Dateline: Harper’s Ferry

It’s a curious thing about this nation’s passenger rail network.

I mean to say, apart from that we have one in the first place.  This appears to surprise a lot of people.  “Chicago?  When do you fly out?” they ask, confident in the familiar ritualized response of airline and time and ticket class.  When I say I’m taking the Capitol Limited, they’re at a complete loss.  I must clarify:  Amtrak.  A passenger train.

Yes, Virginia, we still have passenger trains.

Dateline: Cumberland Gap

More updates from the road, as your Not Fake News action correspondent continues his travels.  For research purposes only, of course.

One of the things I love most about traveling by train is the completely different attitude by passengers.  I’ve seen fights break out over who gets which taxi, whether people have the right to lay their seats back on a plane, or who let out that legendarily nasty

Dateline: West of Elkhart

I’ve always loved trains, ever since I was a little boy watching the big freights pass the bottom of the field at my uncle’s house.  Something hard to express; it’s partly about the size, the vast power, the freedom to travel, to see every part of the country and say hi on the way by.

The Old Woodstove

I’ve been living down south for a number of years now (for my sins), and it sure is curious to see how different life is down here from up home.

Well, the first thing is, here, there’s seasons, I guess, but you wouldn’t call ’em real seasons, not the way we had ’em growing up.  Oh, summer here’s the real thing; you can feel the scorch through the walls and hear the heat crackle even over the roar of the A/C.  But back home, when the leaves started turning and there’d be a bite to the

Rage, rage against the dying of the fright.

Hallowe’en shall end with morning’s light;
Retailers play carols at the break of day —
Rage, rage against the dying of the night.

Old Grizzly Bear

“An empty cab pulled up in front of Congress this morning, and Mike Michaud got out.” Only ever voted the party line. Man’s an empty suit; trained monkeys could have performed better, and I’m glad he got sent back home to Maine.

“Trained monkeys” might be a bit harsh, come to think of it, but as I recall, there was once a grizzly bear that did perform better as a Congressman…

Book Recommendations

My name’s John, and I’m a recovering bookseller.  (“Hi, John!”)

Running a used book shop was the most satisfying and fulfilling occupation I’ve ever had, and I’ve done a lot of things in my life.  Computer programming and applications design, process engineering, pizza delivery, construction big and small, hooking up live sewer lines, teaching — if it’s low-pay or high-stress, I’ve probably done it.

The beautiful part about selling books lies in matching the book to the person.  So, if you’re a jaded Manhattanite who drinks to keep your remaining humanity crushed down out of sight while surviving day to day in the naked city, I’ll tell you to read Lawrence Block

Ghosts Around The Fire

My cousin died. He was probably the third-best liar I’ve ever known.

Understand that when I say this, I’m paying one of the highest compliments I know how to, but he’d have probably only accepted “storyteller”, and then only if he thought I’d argue the point. He was one of the best; never drew one out too long, and always good for a laugh. Reminded me always of his father, who I adored.