The Best on Creston

Approximately 40 trains a day pass through Creston, Iowa. I am not counting the ones that stop here, of which there are far fewer. The train tracks are about 100 yards from this tiny window in this apartment. Past the church, past the road, but before the silos, trains pass by, blowing their horns. They are very loud in a town of quiet. The quiet at night is deafening. Then a train passes by and I can begin to fall asleep, until the quiet descends again, like a roaring in my ears.

The city is 5.1 square miles and about 7,500 people live here. 98% white. 54% girls, 46% boys. More people of German ancestry than any other. There are 21 churches in Creston and 22 hazardous waste sites.

I have been here for two days and two nights. I have spent the majority of my time at Southwestern Community College attending the Final Projects of the music students. SWCC is known for its vocal jazz program. My friend attended the school for one year. He will drive home, with his cat, Weenie, on Sunday. He will get his degree in music education at Sacramento State.

I have been given the grand tour of Creston from the POV of an SUV. Tomorrow morning I shall make my first and only foray on foot into downtown and take photographs. Then I shall be taken to Des Moines by wheeled transport where I shall, by choice, install myself into a metal projectile that will journey to Denver, where I shall switch over to another, larger metal projectile and travel to San Francisco. As I hurtle through the air, reading, doing puzzles, and drinking ginger ale, I shall be struck with a thought, an idea, a moment of inspiration. I hope it doesn't hurt.