Call me old-fashioned if you must, but it’s perfectly fine. I’m an old-fashioned girl. I love riding on a train and it probably has something to do with my babysitter 60 years ago (I think her name was Annie) who walked me down to the tracks to watch the “Rebel” whiz through West Point, MS. about dusk in summer.
I waved wildly to the nice man on the Caboose and walked back home certain I would marry that man someday..
Fast forward 60 years. There are no cabooses much less friendly men waving by. But there is still a train to ride and I’ll never fly again if I can get to the French Quarter or anywhere else “riding the rails.”
Riding the “City of New Orleans” into my favorite city with my favorite people will become my favorite memory. . Most of my family met in New Orleans this week to revisit our favorite haunts from the last century when New Orleans was our home.
Hang the nasty woman called Katrina who tried to wipe us out. As we chugged into the station, WIllie Nelson began belting out “Riding on the City of New Orleans” and I knew all was right with the world and that one-eyed Katrina had lost her battle to take us down.