The Tragic Span of Trains in America, part one

The memories I have of girlhood summers are attached to images I remember of train stations and riding Amtrak in 1970's Missouri. Union Station in downtown St. Louis was a ghostown, ecohing the voices and forms of people long past, the hustle and bustle still hanging in the air, the people all dressed up and carrying beautiful suitcases.I loved that building, that place. I'd never been in a building with such high ceilings and marble floors and benches fifty feet long. While my mother and I would wait for the train to Jefferson City to see my Grandma and Grandpa, there always seemed to be enough time for me to wander around and marvel at the awesomeness of that place. I climbed some marble stairs with great dark wooden banisters lining the sides and upon arriving at the top, there it would be: the place I loved to dream about, the old dining room. I'd press my face to the locked door's glass, taking it all in: the red velvet chairs, the crisp white tablecloths, the tall candelabras gracing each table. In times gone by, what jovial conversation must have been tossed about the room! And then I'd hear my mother calling that it was time to board the train. I detached myself from the fantasy and got on the train to look out the window seeing the river and woods the route took. Who knew that passenger trains would become a thing of the past and that Amtrak would be all there is to ride the Great American Rails that are no more.But--that does not mean they have to remain a thing of the past. Something as huge and necessary and connective as the Transcontinental Railroad deserve a second chance, a reprisal that could go a long, long ways in helping and fixing our American Society.