Rockefeller Oil Tycoons, Loving Trains

 Such intense competition between these two men.  It was hard to conceive at times the mass destruction they caused to a degree by their trying to stay one step ahead of the other.

We needed both of them to build the railroads, the bitter fighting was how they moved across the land I suppose.  It intrigued me that as intense as that was, losing everything sometimes.

Pushing one another to the breaking point, financially, and then some.  Yet, neither gave up.

Paving a way for us all to follow and connect by train, then oil, then industrial expansion.

Amazing.

Oh the beginners of things, what trouble they get in.  With their grand schemes, and thousands of dollars pouring in. 

When exactly does the greed, jealousy and destruction come in?

Is it really something we will have to continue to live with until the world blows up and we start over again?

Or can the mysterious fog of railroads, the wonder and splendor of their glory days revived.  Not like now, feeling like robots on plastic chairs, bouncing around on a motor glide.

No, we want the ones like in the movies, with the velvet cushions and chandeliers.  You want people riding trains again.

Well listen up, that is what brings music to my ears.

Every train station was a beautiful place, I've seen many of them before. I have seen many of the ones in my dreams. I look forward to exploring ones I haven't found yet in reality.

I don't seem to know ahead of time, just when I am in a station I am overcome with a feeling of, "I have been here before." For too long now I have wanted to travel the west coast shore from Washington to California and back again. This dream comes from that desire.

I loved them for their age, the visions they held of building new territories and going where no man had gone before. For their exquisite beauty, laid out and carefully planned.

I loved the sounds of the clickity clack of shoes upon floors all shiny and stone like, to soft thudding wood ones. Some with curved ticket booths of cedar and black iron rod bars. That is where people, in almost military fashion, took care of things. Like printing out ticket destinations, and taking your baggage away. Loved overhearing stories of passengers mistrust of where their luggage was going.

Another thing to love about trains, the room around you in the sitting cabin. It allows for more personal stuff to be kept closer. The furniture for seating us while waiting, always reminds me of old pews in the churches. Some stations even have them arranged in rows like a congregation. I like more the ones with an open floor in the station.

Marble walls, marble stairs, curving up to stain glass windows. With little groups of pews slinking along the walls. History is always spread on the walls or down the halls, sometimes so fascinating you could forget you were getting on one.

"That's it," he interrupted me. "I was looking at the crystal balls of color dancing on the ceiling, and then I saw the train choo chooing away. I watched you walk over here, so can I stay."
"What about the woman calling you?" "Wasn't me, I swear, I don't live anywhere around here."