Ellen Goes To Harvard!

Nope, not that Harvard.

This Harvard.

And how did I get there?

Easy.

I took the train from Ogilvie Transportation Center.

(Gosh, I can almost smell the Garett’s popcorn.)

My affiliation with Ogilvie goes way back.  When I lived in Winnetka, I would take the train downtown for a haircut every three weeks.

This was my station back then.

Right on Green Bay Road in charming old Kenilworth.

It’s a quick trip from Kenilworth to the city.  I would meet my then-husband at the hairdresser’s salon in the late afternoon and we’d both get a trim.  Dinner would follow and then he’d drive me home.

I did that for eighteen years.

The train was always dependable and I didn’t have to worry about driving in at rush hour.

My daughter Natasha also took the train back and forth every day one college summer when she worked for Loleeta Didrickson- then Illinois Comptroller.

I’d pick her up and she’d de-train tired, grouchy and HOT.  When I asked her why in heaven’s name she didn’t just ride home in one of the air-conditioned train cars, she stared at me as if I was nuts.

“It costs a dollar more.  I won’t pay it,” fumed my little miser.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation Sidebar: Natasha had a very important job under Ms. Didrickson.  She worked in the Cemetary Care and Burial Trust Division.  They called it “The Dead Department.”  This office makes sure that you are buried with dignity – and alone.  And did you know that it’s against the law in Illinois for two people to share one grave?  There goes my hope of spending eternity with Alain Delon.

Quelle dommage. C’est la vie.

Back in the North Shore Good Old Days, as I said, I took the train about once a month.

But in these good new days, it’s an engine of a different color.  I’m on the train almost every week.

TBF lives about one hour due west of me.  Sometimes he’ll drive in, but most days, I make the trip out there.

No, it wasn’t supposed to be like that.  In the beginning, we promised to split the commuting hassle.  Two weekends here in the city.  Two weekends there in the country.

Sounds fair, right?  But the thing is he has this…

Dog.

That’s Bailey- in a very typical attitude.  She’s about twelve and very sweet but you just can’t leave her alone for a weekend, you know?

It’s a pain in the neck and the end of civil liberties.

I say this as a “dog person.”  No, make that “former dog person.”  You see, this is the first time in my life that I am dog-free.

And I’m loving it.

It’s so nice to walk out of my house and not to have to think about a dog sitter or a kennel or check my watch to see what time I have to be home because of that eight a.m. and four p.m. feeding schedule.

I’m finally off the leash.  No longer a slave.

Bailey- when she’s not chillin’- is frisky, smart and a love bug.

Still, I can’t help but size her up every time I’m with her.

She looks likes she’s got a few good years left in her, so that means I’m the one who will continue to do the lion’s share of commuting.

My typical train ride takes about an hour and change.  I’ve got a senior citizen’s commuter card and with the discount it costs $4.00 each way.

Most of the time, it’s quiet and I work or read.

But this year, I made the enormous mistake of taking the train on a Saturday.

St. Patrick’s Day Saturday.

Sure and begorra, there I was on a car packed SRO with a horde of rowdy, drunken kids.  And I don’t mean college kids.  I mean high school kids.

The train car was so jammed that the conductors couldn’t collect the tickets because of the crush.

Horrible.

But I’ve seem to have gotten off the railroad track.

Anyway, TBF had some business out Harvard way.  And for a change of pace, he had me meet him out there.

OMG!

It was freakin’ far.

I was surprised to hear that English spoken when I de-trained.

Still, they say travel is broadening.

“You’re never to old to go to Harvard” is my new motto.

All aboard!