America Day by Day blog post

I had been sleeping for what felt like a week in the train from Chicago to Los Angeles. It couldn't have been a week, though, as the ride should only take two days. I woke up and walked to the restroom to wash my face, but the line was long, since everyone else had the same idea. As I stood and waited, a woman got in line behind me, with a curious fashion that seemed more European than American. I began to talk to her.

"Hello, what a marvelous coat! Where did you get it?"

She answered me in a French accent, though her English was quite good. "Hello... It is just a coat from home, from France."

We were quiet. I noticed the book she carried in her arm, a book with Stalin on the cover.

"You are a communist?" I asked.

"This was given to me by a friend," she explained.

"You don't need to worry, the Red Scare hasn't hit everyone here. Besides, in France you have reason to be thankful for the Russians." I was thinking of the eastern front.

Soon we were talking and arguing about leftist politics. She was a leftist, but seemed to evade the suggestion of a communist. If she stayed here, though, I was sure she'd be accused as one. I was surprised to learn that she was traveling alone. I was here with my husband; I wouldn't have felt safe otherwise. The lady smiled as though she knew something about American women that I didn't. Soon, I was at the front of the line to the ladies' room, and we left our separate ways. As I settled back into my train's compartment, I drifted to sleep, dreaming of other places and other times, of women traveling alone...