Emperor of the West

Growing up in Ohio, I'm no stranger to the swath of stitched tracks left across the landscape by freight train lines. When I was a child I had the same healthy fascination with trains as much as the next kid, but I diverged from any semblance of normalcy when I hit my teenage years and became more fixated on the romanticism of "riding the rails." Of course I knew this wasn't a viable option, but when you're sixteen; mad at the your parents, the town you live in and the world at large in general--all for no real reason--an easy escape from Granville was an appealing day dream to indulge in.

I used to study the history (and almost urban mythos) behind Hobo glyphs. These were, in part, a series of symbols left behind by trail-blazing hobos to guide those who followed. They spoke of food, shelter and danger.

But they were so much more than just a calling card for a free-meal. These little glyphs were an innocuous addition to the environment and most people rarely, if ever, paid them any attention. For those who knew, however, they spoke volumes of a world and a lifestyle that also went largely unnoticed. Hobos riding the rails knew what to look for and could pick them out without consequence, and that's all that was important. They were a resourceful guide, hiding in plain sight.

Back in Granville I knew where every antiquated, hidden glyph was. They were still pretty proliferated around the rail lines, where life itself was almost frozen in a bubble of undeveloped time. Where as the glyphs around town almost surely disappeared as the town modernized. When I was younger my favorites were always "Kind lady lives here" and "Gentleman lives here" simply due to how straight forward the symbols for each was.

I haven't thought about Hobo glyphs in years, until this weekend, when I found a duo in the city. They weren't far off from where Union Square is and they were remarkable to find. It was a thrilling injection of nostalgia in my life to be reminded of the joy these curious little symbols brought me. The only catch is, one was the circle-and-two-arrows of "Hit the road, quick!" (I'm sure of it), while the other glyph was something I didn't recognize. I stared at it, and studied it, and worked it over and over in my mind trying to make sense of the insensible.

I did all of this, of course, until Allan got impatient with me and drug me away--which means I never actually ended up with a picture of it, but I do remember it well. It was circular, or O-shaped, with two prongs on it, like rabbit ears. The bizarre thing about it all, is that I can't shake the sensation of familiarity it gave me. I plan to go back and take a picture when my schedule permits.

I hope it's still there.