John Miedema

The train horn just blew. A train runs through my town. When I moved here in August, I found the sound of the horn unnerving, waking me in the night. Now I enjoy it, and sleep to it. It is a good sound, like a fog horn or the quick double-toot of a friend’s car horn. It is even a little like Christmas bells. It is the sound of good things a little ways off. It is hard not to watch a train go by (especially if you’re stuck at the tracks). Trains are irresistibly fascinating. We must watch them. When I walk the dogs, and hear the train horn in the distance, we turnaround and wait to watch the train go by. The VIA trains are thrilling. Like Johnny Cash, I imagine passengers in the VIA1 train indulging in dinner and drinks (I know they’re not “smoking big cigars” anymore). The graffiti on cargo trains conjures up images of city kids with spray cans darting around the train station at night. The sound of the horn is the sound of people out there in the world.

The train is a vehicle to the world, and so is the Internet.

It is a mistake to think the Internet is just a bunch of hardware and data. I made that mistake. I started programming in the 80′s with a tiny Timex computer; at that time the world of computing was just hardware and data. In the early 90′s when the Web and email became popular, I sent a smart-ass email to a writer through his website. My attitude was that no one was actually going to read it or respond. Respond he did, “flamed” me, and I deserved it. It is not uncommon today for people to think of the Web as some sort of video game, with only virtual characters serving as targets. If you visit the virtual world of Second Life, you will quickly find that the characters, or avatars, are real people.

As you sense the people on the other side of your computer, you hear the sound of the train. It is thrilling too. I am not talking about the first blush of the Web as a wide world of Disney. I am talking about being able to hear the inner workings of minds as people post their nascent thoughts. You smile at the little mistakes, appreciate the apologetic turnarounds, drop your jaw when you get the key insight, and share the reward when the thought matures to completion and recognition. You are witnessing the dustier reaches of minds as ideas take shape. It is like a train window. It can also be a mirror. One learns from other people’s differences, sure, but just as appealing is the realization of how essentially similar other people are, mistakes and all, wherever they may be found. It relieves some of the angst of living in a big world.

The ability to peek in on the adventures of other people is a pleasure carried in the sound of the train horn. If you slow down and listen carefully, you can hear it on the Internet.