Not long ago in New Hampshire little towns were tied together by rail like they are in Europe. Each little town had something special it made and offered to the world. Likewise, the world came in to the towns on trains. I liked hearing some 90 year olds recalling the trains with cow catchers because there were cows on the tracks. And how gas was too expensive so it was cheaper to go to the next town over on the train. It must have been so different 70 years ago around here. Pastures went right up to the rail beds so there were sweeping views. Now, I often work near railroad tracks but they are nearly all abandoned and the forest has swallowed up the countryside.
All of this nostalgia and backward looking happened because I was going to get lunch at the Fitzwilliam Depot on Rt 119. Only I stood there on the porch of the out-of-business store which has a for sale sign on it. There were no interesting people, no tasty treats, just peeling paint and a view of the old yellow railroad station across the street. I thought about the bustle maybe 60 years ago when people came up from Boston to go to Laurel lake and their cabins in Troy or Richmond. College kids probably came up to the Fitzwilliam inn to go skiing at the Pinnacle behind town. They probably smoked and drank and created my generation. All of this action is quiet now. You can’t even smell the coffee at the depot.
If the trains still ran, I could go from one country store to the next on the train. Man, I would get into that. I think I have to go to Scotland soon, you can do that there.