Say What?

The more talk, the less truth.

The wise measure their words.

Proverbs 10:19

On Sunday at 12:30pm, I was supposed to board a train to NYC to visit my daughter.  The train, however, was delayed and wouldn't arrive (from Florida) until 1:30 pm.  At 1:50pm, they announced that the train was 10 minutes away, and we all formed a line out in the 102 degree heat.  At 2:00pm, they said it would be 10 more minutes.  At 2:10, they added 10 more.  At 2:20pm, they didn't even bother to say anything.  We finally boarded at 2:45pm into a train that was so full, we had assigned seats.  I was given seat #38 in a coach that was two cars back from the cafe car.  I stepped on board and entered... well, I'm not quite sure what to call it.

My end of the train was filled to the brim with single mothers with a bevy of kids - none of whom were particularly well-behaved.  They had already been on the train for over 18 hours, and the comraderie had obviously worn thin.  A sweet elderly woman was my seatmate, and as I eased into the chair, she said: "Cover your ears and hold on!"   As the train pulled from the station, one of the kids directly behind me did something wrong, and his mother opened her mouth and let fly.  In the next 7 hours, until the last of them got off the train in Newark, NJ, I heard more four letter words screamed at full roar than I've ever heard in my entire life.  The f-word, the d-word, the s-word, the gd-word, the j-word, even the c-word - you name a letter of the alphabet and someone uttered a corresponding curse.

Every time the air turned blue, the little lady next to me would give a little grin, gently poke me in the ribs and shake her head.  I felt like ducking for most of the ride.  These women could not have cared less who heard them, or what we thought of their language.  The Amtrak personnel might have tried to deal with them early on, but they had obviously given up completely, because we did not have any train personnel come through except when they collected tickets in Richmond.  When we departed Washington D.C., no one came to recheck tickets like they have always done.  Everything was done over the loudspeaker. 

When they left the train in Baltimore, Philadelphia, and finally, Newark and the atmosphere was quiet for the first time in seven long hours, I thought sadly of those poor kids who were the recipients of such overwhelming oral filth.  Sure, they were brats - spoiled, obstinate, and mouthy like their moms.  But if a steady diet of filth and curse words is what these kids hear at home, day in and day out, guess what the family atmosphere will be when they grow up and become moms and dads.  Unfortunately for those kids, vile language is a gift that keeps on giving.