I've been rereading or rather relistening to Ulysses by James Joyce. My Hard Books Book Club put the hard work required into understanding this notoriously difficult book a couple of years ago. It's a puzzle. Once solved I framed it and hung it on the wall. Once a year I take it down and lose myself in its intricacies.
People in the book in the Dublin of 1904 are always jumping on trams to get around town. Sometimes characters complain there aren't enough tram lines, but a look at the old system map shows Dublin was pretty well covered. If you were in a hurry you could hire a horse drawn hack the way we use taxis or Uber
There were trains to other parts of the country and if you weren't in a hurry there were canal barges. This tram system reminded me of the system of subways, busses and streetcars of my youth in Boston. You could ride the whole system all day for a nickel if you remembered to get a paper transfer when changing lines.
By brother Bill explored the city on his bike. Not me. I have no sense of direction or memory for the way I have come. No, once I had my map of the system I could ride to the far ends of the system. To get to my high school I took a bus then an elevated train or a streetcar. I used to alternate between streetcar and train to keep things fresh.
One cold bright early spring morning our class was scheduled for a field trip to the Museum of Science just off downtown. I had ridden to the museum by myself before and knew the streetcar that went to the museum was on a different line from the one that I rode to school. I assumed we would have to ride downtown then switch lines.
Brother More led us to the stop where I had gotten off the trolley that morning. The tracks here ran down the center of Huntington Avenue. The streetcars always ran in tandem, but soon a single car arrived and picked us all up. The school had chartered a streetcar to keep us all in hand. There was always a joker looking for a chance to get "lost".
The streetcar went underground as we approached downtown. In the dimly lit tunnel it did some fancy switching and soon emerged in the light on the Lechmere Viaduct and crossed the river to the museum. Why do minor incidents like this remain so bright in the memory when I can't remember whether I turned left or right in Cleveland? If I ever write an incomprehensible novel, this streetcar will provide one of its many keys. It will, yes.
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| "Brang Brang! |
