I booked my train ticket to Chicago on June 26, 2025, and I walked from my home to the Amtrak station in Austin on the first day of a new month. Two days prior, I preached at Ebenezer Third Baptist Church, and that experience felt like the perfect segue into Socialism 2025.
I sat down and finished the key lime pie I bought at Quickie Pickie the previous night. I exchanged smiles with fellow travelers and began to wonder what brought other folks to this quiet, steady structure in the middle of a capital city. Two regal Black women exited a vehicle, brought a large bag to the bench I occupied, and then stepped inside. It rested comfortably between me and an octogenarian from Fort Worth. When they returned, the owner playfully admonished her friend and told her that she intended for her to watch it. The octogenarian and I beamed at her and assured her that it was in good hands. All four of us laughed.
The women took a seat next to us, and I heard pieces of their conversation. The bag contained various awards from her career, and she mentioned that she’d delivered at least two commencement addresses. My imagination leapt, and I wondered who this luminary could be. When the opportunity organically arose, I leaned over and let her know of this internal exercise. I told her that I envisioned her as a famous artist or grand writer. She grinned, but never confirmed; I loved that she didn’t.
The octogenarian turned to me and started telling me about her journey. She and her husband required dental work, and they went to Mexico to receive it. I shared that I had a root canal procedure done in April and was still awaiting an opportunity to get the necessary crown because of my finances. A lamentation about the greed of the American health care system turned into a full reflection on the roads of life that led us to that conversation. On a summer day in Austin, I found myself increasingly appreciative of the 90-minute delay of the locomotive.
Right before I boarded, I waved to two comrades who jody & ry introduced me to in 2024. For a time, they all lived in the same housing co-op in central east Austin, and I joined one of them on the picket line for Rebel Cheese workers after my sermon on Sunday. They also were off to Chicago for the same purpose. A proper re-introduction translated into a promise that we’d meet on the observation deck of the train to talk.
I got on the train around 11 and stretched out slightly on the seat. As I spoke with people to my left & right, I appreciated my position as a socialist on a train. I remembered the book of collected speeches by Eugene V. Debs that presently sits on my coffee table, and I understood his organizing efforts with railroad workers even more. All around me, a diverse group of people engaged in conversation, played card games, ate together, and gathered in the same form of transportation. I loved the opportunity presented by this ride to build connection.
As I read August Nimtz, watching trees and lakes pass by, the two comrades from Austin stopped by to get coffees from the cafe on the lower level. We picked up our conversation and discussed our individual paths to socialism. I recognized the great power of this days-long sojourn as we chatted; its fortifying foundation gave us what we needed to ground our organizing and keep our hearts open.
After an eight-hour layover in St. Louis the next day, I hopped on the train that took me to Chicago. My dear comrade, Dr. Charles Holm, drove to Union Station to get me around 11 last night. On the first day of Socialism 2025 - which also coincides with my father’s 61st birthday - I give thanks for the highways of life that always lead me exactly where I need to go. I look forward to diving into this conference with comrades and reporting back on the rich discourse that ensues.