Driving That Train: The Poetic Promise of an Inauguration
by Elizabeth Solar
I’m a sucker for symbolism. This past Wednesday’s inauguration, and the long journey of an unlikely hero who traveled to our nation’s capital throughout his entire career by way of commuter rail, got me thinking about symbols, and specifically about the objective correlative. How did I make this leap? Credit a member of my writing tribe, Lee Hoffman, for my enthusiastic embrace of the objective correlative, as well an inspiring week of national events.
For the uninitiated, the objective correlative is defined as ‘the artistic and literary technique of representing or evoking a particular emotion by means of symbols that objectify that emotion and are associated with it.’ What better symbol for the aspirations, intentions and long-delayed realizations of a guy otherwise known as ‘Amtrak Joe’ than a train. We are persuaded that in a life well lived, it’s the journey, not the destination that counts. But that journey is often beset with detours, delays, needless stops and derailments, as well as smooth sailing — forgive the mixed metaphor — green lights and comfy accommodations along the way. Such is life, and such is the case for the current occupant of the Oval Office.
Daily Amtrak commutes reflected his working-class beginnings, his humility, his accessibility. They also served as a lifeline to and for his two young sons, who had lost both their mother and baby sister. In a life filled with hardships that would test the patience of Job: a life-threatening aneurism, the loss of a beloved son, twice-dashed political hopes, he endured. Or, in the words of a long lineage of rock bands ‘Train kept ‘a rollin.’
Despite a well-planned itinerary one can be thwarted by sudden illness, changing schedules and despite how fast one runs to catch it, missing the train. Often it’s a matter of waiting at the station for the next one. Other times, it’s choosing an alternate route to take you to the same place, or at least close to it. Once in a while we decide upon a completely different destination, enjoy the view and the excitement of discovering new territories and adventures.
By January 20, 2021, Amtrak Joe finally arrived: A little older, a bit road weary, an experienced traveler still invigorated by the possibilities of the collective journey ahead, and fueled by a clear-eyed optimism and desire to serve. In some ways, he’s the Little Engine That Could.
While many of us take a collective exhalation this week, and wonder at what a long, strange trip it’s been, we look forward to traversing scrubby landscapes, as well as verdant fields, the peaks and valleys of geography and life. We’ll pass extraordinary vistas, and because it’s all part of this communal experience, we appreciate the grotesque as well as the beautiful. In fact, within and beyond what seems dark and brutal may dwell something luminous and graceful. And we need not be merely passengers, but help take the wheel and travel in the same direction. Perhaps in doing so that light at the end of the tunnel is not another train, but simply more light.
Postscript in a day notable for a certain amount of lyricism — President Biden’s unadorned inaugural address was beautiful in it’s simplicity, at time even messiness, and humanity — we were introduced to a poetic force of nature: Amanda Gorman. Her words continue to resonate and thrill.
"We will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one...There is always light, if only we're brave enough to see it. If only we're brave enough to be it.”
