Actuarial Soul at Sunrise

Train travel has reestablished a position of preference for many of us who have to get from Boston to New York (and back). Living steps from Back Bay Station makes the Amtrak option even more convenient. Beyond the ease of boarding, I enjoy the route along the seashore of Rhode Island and Connecticut. I am always surprised, however, how few of my fellow passengers seem comparably enchanted.

This morning's journey began in the dark at 5:15. There was little to see beyond one's reflection in the window until we'd made Connecticut. Usually when I travel on the Acela I secure a window seat on the waterside of the train, and it's important to me that my seat be in a row where the full expanse of the window is before me. I get surly if I have to settle for a seat where the window frame can partially block the view. I also prefer to see what's ahead. Thus a backward-facing seat is also unpreferred.

This morning unfortunately I was traveling with a work colleague. Unfortunate because it meant I felt compelled to take a backward-facing seat on the non-waterside of the train, so that we might more easily discuss our company's freshly minted 10Q, while facing one another across a faux wood table. I've never read through an entire 10Q. It's difficult to imagine more stultifying, pre-dawn reading material . . . and I am pleased to say that I still have yet to make it through an entire 10Q. 

Sitting in sub-par seating and studying financial statements and management summaries, understandably, made me grumpy. I also would've really liked to nap . . . at least until light returned to the landscape passing by. Though I'm glad now that I didn't snooze. And I'm glad I was facing backwards. 

For all my travails, I was rewarded by a sunrise that painted the clouds at the horizon in an exotic blend of lavender and pink, laced with brilliant gold. The 10Q receded to its rightful position near the intersection of oblivion and the train table's edges. I was positioned perfectly (facing backwards, toward the east) to catch this brief, solar preview, in all its cinematic majesty.

I encouraged my colleague to turn to look. He did, I think . . . but it was clear he hadn't seen what I'd seen. He turned back to the 10Q without hesitation. I wasn't offended. It just struck me as curious that this funny, brilliant man, trained as an actuary, could not see something so phenomenal.