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| Category: General Experiences |
Date published: September 15, 2005 |
 Thomas Wolfe told us: "You can't go home again" How very true that is.
My last year of high school I took a train trip across the country to visit my birthplace (Albany, New York). The trip was quite an adventure, having never taken such a long train trip before. The scenery was magnificent, the people I met were interesting and the food was excellent (if somewhat expensive).
We had a layover, of several hours, in Chicago where we also changed trains. I left the station, intending to explore the "windy city", but there wasn't much to see near the train station, and I didn't know my way around the city, so just ended up going to a movie to kill the time until I had to board the next train for the final leg of my journey.
I don't remember a train station in Albany, so I believe I had to take bus, that part of the trip is buried behind some cobwebs in my mind. Anyway, I do remember going to see my old house on Dot Avenue, which seemed much smaller than I remembered. I walked through the underground tunnel to cross the street so I could see my old school, and the familiar smell of the disinfectant brought back a rush of nostalgia, finally something familiar. Later, I went to the old park where my grandparents used to take us to watch the boats and play the games in the penny (yes it was only a penny back then) arcade. The boats were dry-docked and the arcade was boarded up. The lake was still there, but it just was not the same.
Finally, I went to look for the old ice cream parlor where you used to buy a dish of ice cream (your choice of flavor) and then "build" your own sundae. What a marvelous concept--they had a long table covered with any sort of topping you could imagine, and you could take as much as you wanted of any topping you wanted. I think the ice cream parlor is now a pizza parlor, there must be more money in that business.
The train ride home seemed much longer than the one going. And as I closed my eyes and let the clackety-clack of the track lull me to sleep, I dreamed of Albany, but the Albany I dreamed of was 1952.
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In My Own Words: Out-of-the-Ordinary Experiences
