It’s always lovely when a photographic subject does exactly what I want.
Last night, after I had dinner, I walked over to the Skytrain station at Lougheed Town Center Station and bought a ticket. I didn’t ride the train, but I was supposed to buy a ticket in order to get to the area wherein I could ride if I wanted. I bought the ticket so that I could shoot some photos of people waiting for the train.
I got a bunch of good photos, but this one was particularly appreciated, seeing as how this young man turned and looked back at the exact moment I snapped the photo. To him: thanks.
I took my children into Vancouver last March. Every time we go, the kids want to ride the train. We take the most circuitous route in order to have to ride as many trains as possible. It’s fun, if not a little time consuming. What’s most fun is meeting a bunch of different people along the way.
This young lady was on the train with us from this stop, Broadway and Commercial, until we got off in Coquitlam. After boarding the train, she put the newspaper away, sat quietly and watched what was passing by the window. She was particularly amused with my kids and their ability to eat copious amounts of candy. I was amazed at her ability to sit quietly and, seemingly, meditate the entire ride. No cell phone. No newspaper. No nothing. Just sitting, waiting, smiling. Pretty cool.
I’m sure this goes to a perfectly normal tunnel and off to the remainder of the Canadian Pacific Rail, but I like to think of the places it might take me. Like…
A train on which two people who’ve never met before discuss killing each others’ least desirable person?
What do you think?
There’s a line in a poem by Taylor Mali (I think the poem is “Train of Thought”) wherein the speaker ponders whether people who think in “trains of thought” aren’t lacking creativity. That people should be thinking in “dirigibles” and zeppelins. They can go anywhere, back, forth, up, down, where train of thought thinkers can only move forward or back at a relatively slow pace.
Now that the school year is finally over, I’m happy to say that my line of thinking is less line-like than ever.
On the other hand, I seem to be gleefully moving toward summer and I’d like that line to be as short as possible.
…the gingerbread train. First stop…Peppermint town, followed by SmartieVille and Royal Icing City.
I can’t say I like gingerbread, but it is fun to see what my kids come up with every year. We skipped right past the house and went for the locomotive this year, and Hannah took the lead on the engine while Ben decorated the caboose. Hannah went for traditional red and green of Christmas, while Ben decided that a circus caboose more accurately captured his own feelings about the season.
Ever since I was a little Canadian kid watching “The Littlest Hobo” (a Canadian television series about a German Shepherd who helped people and traveled around Canada via the railway lines) I have wanted to ride the rails. There seems to something very idyllic about traveling slowly through my country while someone else is in control. Railways make me think of “From Russia With Love” and “Murder on the Orient Express.” Or “O Brother, Where Art Thou” or “Polar Express” or “Strangers on a Train” or “Trainspotting.”
Come to think of it, I don’t understand my romantic feelings about railways at all. Hercule Poirot solves a murder on a train. James Bond is nearly murdered on a train. Ulysses Everett McGill is trying to escape prison and is tossed off the train because his fellow prisoners can’t run fast enough. Alfred Hitchcock’s strangers meet and plan the murder of each other’s problems (a problem wife and a father). “Trainspotting” with Ewan McGregor, as Mark Renton, is a film about a bunch of strung-out heroin addicts. “Polar Express” and “The Littlest Hobo” are really the only positive inclusions and both of them are obvious fictions meant for younger audiences.
I take it all back. Railways suck.
Pentax K20D; Pentax M SMC 50mm; f2.8; ISO 100; 1/2500 sec.