Roger's Pass memory
My life is so unbloggable. That's why there's no blog, diary, or journal that covers more than a couple months at a stretch. When there's something to write about I'm too busy doing it to write about it. Then later, well, it's history and I don't remember it. Well, I can't say it like that. I mean, I still remember waking up in the back of a grain car, freezing and frost rimed, gazing out on Roger's Pass in the moonlight as our train rounded the last bend before hitting the actual pass. The road doesn't get that view and, in fact, the train doesn't anymore either. It's been replaced with a tunnel.
I guess I was 22 or 21. That age when discomfort is minor even when it's major and you're invincible and fearless. I'd say "carefree" but it only seems that way now. I know I had too many cares for my tender age. I cared too much about too much and had no power to fix anything.
So the view that stretched before me that late night was silver and black with deepest blue for a back drop. Perhaps it was the orange paint on the car that added to the striking colourlessness that night. The mountains stretched back in a gargantuan rocky yawn. They were shaped like shark teeth and striped with black streaks where rocks poked through their perpetual shawls of white snow. It was late June and this ice was not worried about summer. The moon rode above spraying light like a child with a flower basket at a wedding. Silver brilliance flowing down into a valley so long it curved back past the horizon to north and south alike, a great gash of rocks and snow in the earth, high above the world of Men. It was only there for a flash, then a tree and a cliff sped up and blocked my view as our freight began the long hurtle downhill to the sea.
I never made it to Vancouver by freight train. We'd get into Golden or Revelstoke and head up to Lilooet where my mother in law lived, then turn around and ride back home. My ex who was my teacher and guide on these adventures had never figured out the lines in and out of Vancouver. The rest of the system was easy enough, every four hours a train going the opposite way. There's east or west, pick your direction. Vancouver, however, is the terminus for the whole country. We did that journey a total of 3 times both ways and I never saw that sight again. Just that one night, waking up just in time, and it imprinted forever.
Mostly, however, my life is arts and crafts, errands and chores. I get online and share thoughts, have new thoughts. I paint or clean or knit and think through those thoughts. I cry over some, laugh over others, share the good stuff online. Normal.
Yesterday was a busy day. Mostly errands and chores including a run to the west side for dog meds. Day before that I'd gone downtown to get my concert flute worked on. It's time for a complete overhaul. I saw a musical instrument I want in there too, a Qchord. I've got an Omnichord I rarely play and I want to upgrade it to a Qchord I'll play once a year instead. I know better than to buy it. It's $400 and we're deep in debt and I will hardly ever use it. But I'll buy it anyway.
I know, we'll never get out of debt that way. Here's the issue, though, I don't believe we'll get out of debt through scrimping and self denial. I honestly don't. I believe if I stuck seriously to a frugal plan of necessities only, after ten years all I'd have to show for it is a lifestyle I couldn't have had on welfare! I honestly don't believe the debt can be repayed unless it's all paid down at once with a single flush from the house and we close the credit accounts. So I sit there going "$400 on a debt and we'll never see it again, or I can have this new toy and enjoy it for years to come."
To me, paying down the debt feels like throwing money away.
I bet I'm not the only one.
I guess I was 22 or 21. That age when discomfort is minor even when it's major and you're invincible and fearless. I'd say "carefree" but it only seems that way now. I know I had too many cares for my tender age. I cared too much about too much and had no power to fix anything.
So the view that stretched before me that late night was silver and black with deepest blue for a back drop. Perhaps it was the orange paint on the car that added to the striking colourlessness that night. The mountains stretched back in a gargantuan rocky yawn. They were shaped like shark teeth and striped with black streaks where rocks poked through their perpetual shawls of white snow. It was late June and this ice was not worried about summer. The moon rode above spraying light like a child with a flower basket at a wedding. Silver brilliance flowing down into a valley so long it curved back past the horizon to north and south alike, a great gash of rocks and snow in the earth, high above the world of Men. It was only there for a flash, then a tree and a cliff sped up and blocked my view as our freight began the long hurtle downhill to the sea.
I never made it to Vancouver by freight train. We'd get into Golden or Revelstoke and head up to Lilooet where my mother in law lived, then turn around and ride back home. My ex who was my teacher and guide on these adventures had never figured out the lines in and out of Vancouver. The rest of the system was easy enough, every four hours a train going the opposite way. There's east or west, pick your direction. Vancouver, however, is the terminus for the whole country. We did that journey a total of 3 times both ways and I never saw that sight again. Just that one night, waking up just in time, and it imprinted forever.
Mostly, however, my life is arts and crafts, errands and chores. I get online and share thoughts, have new thoughts. I paint or clean or knit and think through those thoughts. I cry over some, laugh over others, share the good stuff online. Normal.
Yesterday was a busy day. Mostly errands and chores including a run to the west side for dog meds. Day before that I'd gone downtown to get my concert flute worked on. It's time for a complete overhaul. I saw a musical instrument I want in there too, a Qchord. I've got an Omnichord I rarely play and I want to upgrade it to a Qchord I'll play once a year instead. I know better than to buy it. It's $400 and we're deep in debt and I will hardly ever use it. But I'll buy it anyway.
I know, we'll never get out of debt that way. Here's the issue, though, I don't believe we'll get out of debt through scrimping and self denial. I honestly don't. I believe if I stuck seriously to a frugal plan of necessities only, after ten years all I'd have to show for it is a lifestyle I couldn't have had on welfare! I honestly don't believe the debt can be repayed unless it's all paid down at once with a single flush from the house and we close the credit accounts. So I sit there going "$400 on a debt and we'll never see it again, or I can have this new toy and enjoy it for years to come."
To me, paying down the debt feels like throwing money away.
I bet I'm not the only one.