10. Platform Sailing

The California Zephyr departed Cleveland’s Union Station at precisely 10:30 pm, as planned. Lizzy searched through her backpack and took out an iPod, while Professor Farley seemingly pulled an orange-colored book on Free Will from thin air. At the same time, they leaned back in their seats and immersed themselves in their respective activities.

“What’s that about?” she asked, pointing to the book’s title.

“It’s a pretty complex topic, something that has fascinated me for most of my life,” he paused briefly, considering how to respond to her inquiry. “So, according to Robert Kane,” tapping the book’s hardcover, “Free Will is the power to be the ultimate creator and sustainer of some of one’s own ends and purposes.” Michael anticipated that his answer might make her go back to her music.

He was wrong. “Can you give me an example?”

The professor absent-mindedly ran his hand over his mostly grey beard, neatly trimmed along the edges. Lizzy couldn’t help but notice his resemblance to George Clooney. “You know,” he said with a wistful sigh, “I’ve been traveling by train my entire life. Yet that first time, back when I was a brand-new teenager, remains the most frightening and exhilarating experience I’ve ever had on the rails.”

“You were just thirteen?” she calculated.

“Yes, and all by myself. From St. Augustine in Florida to Providence in Rhode Island,” he paused, letting the memory come to life in his mind. “I was headed to a boarding school.”

“All by yourself?” she repeated.

“That was in the 60s when conductors would go around the cars, taking care of the passengers. There was this one conductor, an older black man who took a special interest in me. His name was Van Tate. He looked out for me. He’s the one who told me about something he called platform sailing.”

“What’s that?”

“I think it was mid-morning because he had just finished punching tickets. He came and stood in front of me. ‘Mr. Michael?’ That’s what he called me. ‘Have you ever sailed the platform?’ He gestured with an inviting arm towards the rear of the passenger car. I followed him.

“The back of his hand had these rough burn scars, but I didn’t inquire about them. He slid the door open and the sudden noise of the train’s wheels clicking on the tracks below broke the silence. ‘Come on,’ he shouted over the train’s rumble. He assisted me in jumping from the platform of our car to another one being towed behind it.

“Then we walked through what seemed like another half-dozen cars until we got to the caboose. With his hand on the door handle, he said, ‘It’s supposed to be locked, but it’s broken.’ What I vividly remember now is that when he smiled, I had a hard time not staring at his missing tooth.

“Anyway, we eventually got to where we were heading, the final platform on the last car. He wrapped his two hands around the steel railing, and I did the same. He stood upright and let the wind blast his face. I did the same.

“Then he said, ‘When I’m out here, I pretend I’m the captain of a triple-mast packet ship, its tattered sails flapping hard against the sea-sprayed wind. My hands firmly on the helm.’ He watched me tighten my grip on the imaginary ship wheel. ‘And you’ve gotta sing a sea shanty,’ he continued with a grin. ‘Oh, fare you well, my platform sailor; I wish you well, ye lad. Goodbye, fare you well, ye lad,’ he started singing.

“After that, old Van Tate snapped back to reality. ‘I need to make rounds. But I’ll check on you later,’ he assured me. As he turned to leave, he winked and continued his shanty. ‘Oh, fare you well, my bonny lad. Hold fast, boy, it’s Denver in the morrow.’ The sliding door slammed shut behind him.”

The professor continued to gaze out the window as he remarked, “Old Van Tate must be long gone by now. Sail on, my friend.”

“Bet that was fun,” Lizzy remarked. “Platform Sailing,” she added, seeing the professor’s brows tightened.

“Oh, definitely!” Michael exclaimed, turning to gaze directly into Lizzy’s eyes. “I stood there, swaying to the rhythmic rocking of the car, the wind howling in my ears with a deafening noise. I stood there all morning. All afternoon. Into the night. Van Tate checked on me from time to time. But he saw the permanent smile on my face, the same one he had worn as a young fellow. So he left me to my imagination.”

“Can we go out on the platform?” Lizzy inquired.

“No, I’m sure these doors are securely locked. But,” his expression now more serious, “do you know why I’m telling you this story?”

“Not really.”

“It comes back to free will.”

“Huh?” Lizzy wound the earphone wires around the iPod and placed it back in her backpack.

“You see, during all those hours, the train journeyed hundreds of miles. It traversed through every imaginable landscape. Some were completely desolate—forests, rivers, lakes, canyons. And the weather changed from cool to cold to warm, from wet to dry.”

“I can imagine it,” Lizzy remarked.

“But what truly amazed me was the incredible diversity and breadth of human existence. In rural areas, children in diapers ran barefoot, chasing chickens for fun. I saw squalid conditions that no one should have to live in.”

“I’ve seen pictures in books at school.”

“Well, let me tell you, pictures can’t capture the reality. Poverty is… the darkest side of human cruelty. Completely preventable,” he declared with passion. “Especially when you witness the opposite extreme. The 5,000 square foot homes with their colonial columns, immaculate gardens, and brick-paved circular driveways.”

“How does this connect to free will?” Lizzy inquired respectfully.

“Ah, yes. Exactly. Well, as I witnessed all of this, a question crossed my mind. Is life random? How did it happen that the shirtless child in the chicken yard was born into a poor family… and not a wealthy one? Was it just a matter of chance?” He looked to Lizzy for her response.

“How could it not be?”

“Well, you see, that’s what is meant by determinism. Religions use determinism when they argue that God has a plan. Or, ‘it was meant to be.’ Or there was Divine Intervention. Or it was preordained.”

“You don’t believe in God?”

“I have my reservations about religions. Organized religions, to be precise. But yes, I do believe in One God. The Singular Source of everything in the universe. A Creator.”

“Then do you believe in the power of prayer?”

“Why do you ask about prayer specifically, Dianna?”

“Because I’m hoping to meet a boy in Denver. He promised he’d be there. So, I am praying for Tommy, my true love.”

“How do you know they’re one and the same?”

“You mean that Tommy is my true love?”

“My question goes beyond the surface. Assuming I share your definition of ‘true love,’ how do you know he’s your true love? What if God knows of someone else whom He thinks is your true love? Who knows better?”

“Wow, I never considered it from that perspective. I think you’re asking about what the truth really is.”

“Go on,” the teacher urged.

“Well, surely God would know what’s genuinely true. But does that mean we humans cannot?”

“There are centuries of philosophers who would argue that humans know nothing. They might believe but they don’t know for sure. They may theorize scientifically, but those hypotheses are confined by the scope of our senses and the constraints of our reasoning.”

Lizzy remained intrigued by this topic, especially after the eerie church scene. “So, humans don’t know anything?”

“Ever hear the expression, ‘the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?’ Well, one can tell the truth and still be untruthful through omission.”

“Can you give an example?”

“Okay,” Michael hesitated for a moment. “I mentioned that I enjoy taking trains because I get to meet people and spend more time with them. The scenery beyond this window is far more captivating than an endless blanket of clouds,” he paused. “But that’s not the whole truth.”

“It’s not?” It was now past midnight, and Lizzy was very sleepy. But she really did want to know more.

“I’m afraid of flying. Always have been since I was a child.”

“So, if I understand correctly, you’re saying we can express both truth and untruth in the same sentence.”

“More than that, Dianna. We must always remember the limitations of our perceptions. We have five senses, and each one has known limitations. Then there’s the matter of reasoning. Each of us is unique, right?”

Lizzy was following. “So, two people might reach different conclusions about the same thing?”

“Alright, let’s get back to free will — it seems like that baby in her diaper, chasing a chicken around a dirty yard, didn’t choose to start life in poverty. But I wouldn’t have seen her and turned her into a life lesson if I hadn’t chosen to follow that conductor.”

“Or chosen to stay out there sailing the platform,” Lizzy added. “I think I’m starting to understand. Some things that happen in our lives, we have no control over.”

“Do you recognize the name Jeff Bezos?” She shook her head. “He’s the creator of Amazon, a major online marketing company. He often says, ‘You can never be proud of being handsome, smart, or tall because those are gifts. You didn’t do anything! You can only be proud of your choices because those are the things that you are acting on.’ Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

“Professor Farley? There’s something I need to share with you. And then ask a question,” she began. Lizzy proceeded to recount the unsettling dream and the eerie incident at the church graveyard. “How could I have predicted that in advance? Surely my dream originated from somewhere beyond myself. Don’t you think?”

“Well, if you’re not too worn out from this discussion, it all hinges on your definition of ‘you.’”

“Huh?” was all she could manage.

“I happen to believe in souls. I think each of us possesses one, and it dwells within us.”

“My aunt claims that our soul travels with us.”

“Be cautious with that idea. What if you’re the one traveling with your soul? I’m posing a question— which is the authentic you? Perhaps your soul represents the true you, and your body is merely a suit you put on. That’s how George Harrison, a member of the Beatles, explained it. Like a suit, complete with a brain.”

“Alright, continue, please.”

“Now, imagine if your soul has a direct link to God. That idea is truly mind-boggling. But if you entertain that notion, then your unsettling dream might have originated within you.”

“From my soul? But that implies it also came from God, right?”

“Bingo. You see, everything you might need to understand is discoverable from within yourself.”

“Talking about the Beatles, it’s like that song ‘All You Need is Love,’” Lizzy chimed in. “You know, ‘There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known,’” she sang. “Makes sense, doesn’t it?” She sat for a moment as the professor observed her ruminating on all of this. “You come across as a person of faith, but you mentioned not liking religions. I’m a bit confused.”

“I just believe that everything we require is already inside us. However, the main religions teach us that our salvation is external, in something or someone else,” he paused abruptly. “But, you know, it’s just one person’s perspective.”

The conversation naturally faded away as a momentary silence transformed into individual daydreams. Through the PA system, passengers were notified that cabin lights would be dimming soon for those who wished to sleep. They were scheduled to arrive in Fort Morgan, Colorado, at 5:20 am, right on time. A 45-minute layover was planned, providing an opportunity for passengers to disembark and enjoy an early morning breakfast in the train station’s remarkable food court.

The California Zephyr started moving out of Fort Morgan. Professor Farley glanced anxiously at Lizzy’s vacant seat, hoping to find a train attendant to ask about her. The aisle was empty.

After about forty minutes, the silence was broken as the 14-year-old with bouncing pigtails flopped into her seat with a thud. “That was so cool!” she exclaimed, unconcerned that the professor had been napping.

“Oh! Good. You’re back. I was worried about you.”

“Guess what?”

“What?” he replied, playfully mimicking a clueless teenager.

“The door was unlocked!” She waited for him to catch up. “It was just like you described. Wind in your face. Hands gripping the railing. Changing scenes. We crossed the St. Charles River, and there, up on a hill, was Noah’s Ark.”

“Yeah, tourist trap,” he remarked sarcastically. “But did you come away with any profound questions or thoughts?”

“Do you trust people, Professor Farley?”

“Some more than others. Why? Why do you ask?” Throughout their twenty hours together, he had been sensing more and more that she wasn’t portraying herself truthfully. Something seemed amiss.

“I wasn’t entirely truthful with you, sir,” she started. Lizzy had taken her time on the platform, weighing the decision to confess about running away. A feeling inside told her that consulting with an adult about her reasoning might be wise. Plus, by using Dianna’s name, she could keep her anonymity.

“Listen, whatever you want to share will remain confidential between us,” he assured. Now he grasped the significance of her initial question. “Yes, you can trust me.”

Lizzy took a deep breath, her heart racing. “I caused my mom’s death,” she whispered. Michael understood not to interrupt; he simply let her express herself. “If it weren’t for me, she would still be alive.” She paused. “And I couldn’t ruin my aunt’s life, too.”

“How long ago, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Last July. Five months,” she counted on her fingers. “The thing that keeps bothering me is choices. My mom made some bad choices. I lived with her for 14 years. One creepy, increasingly abusive boyfriend after another.”

“So, do you blame her or yourself for what happened? I thought you were blaming yourself.”

“I see your point. But maybe I just don’t want to hate her,” she hesitated. “For being so selfish. So impulsive.”

“So, you’re running away to protect your aunt’s life?”

“Yeah, I am. Because…”

“Well, if I may, aren’t you also acting impulsively?” She seemed downcast, at least to him. “Remember earlier when we discussed free will? About some things happening to us from outside and other things resulting from our choices?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Lizzy looked up, wiping her dripping nose.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that it’s not the circumstances in our life that define us. It’s how we handle them.”

“Okay…”

“So, maybe we shouldn’t be too harsh on your mom. Or you, for that matter. Can you share a bit about the circumstances in your mother’s life?”

Lizzy told Michael about her grandparents’ health struggles and how her mother, Mary, had cared for them, and how she raised a younger sister, essentially putting her own life on hold.

“That’s a heavy burden for one person, let alone a child. But what happened to her is only half the story, Dianna,” he waited for Lizzy to absorb it all. “Perhaps more crucial is what didn’t happen to her.”

“Like what?”

“Like a healthy childhood. Parents who were loving and attentive, guiding and teaching how to mature and handle life’s challenges.”

“Wow. I never thought about her…”

“… being a victim? And what about you? Did you have attentive parents? Were you taught how to navigate life?”

“So, are you suggesting I’m a lot like my mom?”

“Only in the circumstances you were born into…”

“Chasing chickens?” she teased.

“Exactly. But now? Now, you have to decide how you will play the hand you’ve been dealt.”

“Where do I start?” Michael observed the sadness she carried on her brow.

“I’ve always found it valuable to learn about my heritage. What do you know about yours? As far back as you’ve been told?”

“Well, I had a great-great-grandfather named Sean Gilmer. He was from Ireland and emigrated here when he was just sixteen! I wish I knew more.”

“Did your mom or aunt know anything more?”

“Not really. Oh, wait! My aunt once shared a letter with me that was written in a foreign language. They suspected it could be a love letter exchanged between Sean and his wife.”

“Well, if you happen to come across it again, I’d be willing to decode it,” he mentioned, retrieving a business card from his worn-out wallet. “Good morning, folks,” the conductor announced, sounding way too cheerful for 7:20 in the morning. We’re expected to arrive at Union Station-Denver in about ten minutes. If you’re continuing your journey, there will be a 90-minute layover. For the rest of you, thank you for choosing Amtrak for your travel.”