End of the Line

A view of railway terminus at the MFA grain elevator complex in Lebanon, Missouri.

Certain scenes settle onto me like old clothes. They may be worn, definitely out of fashion, and with little appeal to anyone else but they draw me back again and again.

This is one. A small piece of rural industrial land. Nothing pretty or tidy about it, it’s entirely typical of those parts of town that the tourists bypass and perhaps might be a little scary after nightfall.

This particular scene appeals to me because it’s a border scene. Not an obvious one with fences or signs, but that rail track simply stops where the wagon is parked. Beyond it lies a typical small town residential street. They look like they merge, but they don’t quite. A narrow road separates them, that, I guess, is what you could call the borderline.

Wouldn’t the world be better off if all borders were similarly unobtrusive and unnoticed? Why do we need to packet and parcel land, people, opinions - so much really - into readily definable and recognizable groupings.

Is it really beyond to us embrace what lies beyond?

Sadly, this very much seems to be the case with absurdities like Brexit and a wall between Mexico and the United States very much in the news. We live on a planet that’s changing faster in terms of climate and environment than it has in thousands or millions of years and it’s going to slam into everyone much sooner than we might wish. At that point, togetherness is all that’s going to save us.

Time, I say, to encourage that.