We went to a new restaurant in the Fan for lunch today. It's a place called Garnett's located at 2001 Park. It was written up in the local paper this morning in glowing terms, but we had been told before that by our personal restaurant critic, our son, that it was excellent. With two votes of approval we just had to try it out, and it was well worth it!
The food is mostly sandwiches, and has prices that are very reasonably. They make their own pickles, and Boston brown bread, as well as any pastries around for breakfast. I wanted to buy a loaf of the Boston brown bread, but they cannot sell it by the loaf, as that would require yet another, different license.
We each ordered a sandwich and then shared by her giving me half of hers, and I gave her half of mine. "Her" is that Ginny person I share my life with. By sharing we were able to taste two different things. Also, they have "French" potato salad, which was REALLY good! By the time we finished, we were too full for desert, but that's a good thing.
On the way down there, we crossed over the rail yards on I-95 south. When I looked down on it from the bridge, the tracks and trains looked so small. I thought once again how some things we once wanted never seemed quite high enough on our priority list to obtain over the course of our life. The latent desire evoked by seeing the trains was one I had when I was very younger; I wanted to have a really nice model train layout when I grew up.
Many decades ago, when I was around eleven years old, I used to enjoy building model buildings to be used on a train layout, even though I never had one growing up. I made them from plans I found in one of the model train magazines, or something I created myself. They were made out of balsa wood, and I took pains to make them look realistic, using cellophane for the windows, cutting indentation lines in the sides in order that they looked like real siding, and placing trees and shrubs around them for landscaping.
The town I grew up in from the age of ten through high school was a small town in central Indiana named Marion. One day, while riding who knows where on my bike, I stopped at the old, no longer used, train station. When I looked in the windows, I saw before me a huge model train layout. It was HO gauge, which is relatively small when compared to, say, a Lionel train.
I went around to the door to see if it was open, and it was! I went inside and saw a man down at the other end. He told me I was welcome to look around, so I did. The layout occupied the entire building. It was a miniature world, complete with mountains, rivers, and small towns with cars and miniature people. The trees and shrubs were made from green colored sponges. I was mesmerized as the trains passed by me, the sound of their wheels on the tracks making me wish I could hop on and see where they were headed. I had never seen something as wonderful as this.
The man, a Mr. Knudsen I was to learn, hobbled down to where I was. He towered over me, but then, when I was eleven, everyone towered over me. He wanted to know what I thought of his layout. I told him it was really neat, and did he need, or want any additional buildings, that I built them for fun. He told me to bring them in, and he would take a look at them, no promises.
The next time I came down there, which was probably the next day, I brought a house and a business like building with me to see what he thought. I don't know whether or not he really liked them, but he allowed me to place them on his layout with the caveat that once there, they had to stay forever. I was thrilled my buildings became a permanent part of that layout! I don't remember if I ever built anymore for him, or how many times I went there. I wish I did remember. Today, on occasion, I think wanting a layout, but I have never had the place, the money, and, in reality, the desire, I suppose, or I would have it by now.
After I left Marion, I joined the army, and discovered the real world. The miniature one that I used to think was the best thing there was faded into the distance as I became restless to see the real one.
It was many years before I went back to Marion, not having fond memories of the place when I left. While there, I went in search of the train station to see what the train layout might look like then. It was not there. It was gone. Not only the layout, but the entire station. I felt that Mr. Knudsen must have passed away as he was getting old while I was still very young. If he were alive, I never found out, and had I, I don't know if I would have searched him out or not.
Perhaps things would have been different had I not joined the army and stayed in Marion, gone to college, gotten a job there, and lived there the rest of my life, the way many of the people I grew up with ended up doing. Perhaps, but I'm glad I will never know, because the path I did opt to take has been an incredible ride, and will, I hope, continue for many more years to come!
