Conversations on the 5:04

The guy who sat next to me last Friday afternoon on the 5:04 out of Ogilvie Transportation Center in Chicago works downtown, has a family, enjoys a tall can of beer on the way home , and is a great conversationalist. In this year's talk of campaign promises, partisan politics, and the the attendant nastiness, we chatted for more than an hour as the train rushed through the western suburbs (first stop is Wheaton) and I can't tell you whether he's more inclined to vote Republican or Democrat. Truth to tell, it doesn't really matter. Politics gets to be that special topic of conversation that people turn to when table talk gets rancid. I'm sure had we pursued some conversational avenue long enough one of us would have taken exception to a point made. If we were lesser gentlemen, we could've gotten into the political row and walked away from a potential friendship angry because the other guy doesn't see and interpret things the same way. Something tells me we got way past that point. We connected on a much more important level by minimizing the peripheral issues and talking about life beyond them.

We both enjoy jazz legend Pat Metheny. I'll recommend one of his newest albums, "The Way Up," only after you give a listen to "Letter From Home," or "Still Life Talking." I recommend the DVD release over the audio CD performance; it just seems to have more of a hook. It may be the visual stimulation, perhaps the performances are slightly different.

I guess the thing that really connected us is the desire to have personal and family priorities in order, recognizing that life isn't all about accumulating a lot of stuff, but having things reasonably right on the home front. Lest anyone think that because we work on priorities is making us perfect, think again. I've been married a little over 35 years, my talkative and transparent traveling companion only since 2007. We're both working on ourselves and on our relationships and we've got a long way to go. But we're moving in a positive direction.

We reach his stop, he's up from his seat, down the stairs, out the door and disappears into the early evening light. We've exchanged email addresses and will stay in touch. It's been quite a day and conversation.

Where would I be without the 5:04 westbound?