A German guy, a train conductor, and a judge walk into a bar.

Sorry, no joke. Just some funny stories and good ol' life lessons from buses and trains.

I find trains to be deeply romantic. Moving through the countryside, soaking in the scenery, gliding along the tracks, arriving with class and in style. Buses, not so much, but we will get to that later. I’ve only been on two trains in my life (excluding your basic subway or city rail system). I’m talking about real trains. You know, the kind in the movies, the ones with a conductor with a fancy hat yelling, “All aboard!”

Germany and Maine. Both were very different experiences but valuable nonetheless.

The 5:10 to Brussels

Twenty-two. An adult at last. Fresh off the graduation stage, ready to take on the world. Bachelor’s degree in hand, no idea what I want to do with my life, ready to see what the world has to offer.

My brother is five years younger than me, but school worked out, so he graduated high school the same year I made it out of college. I’m a therapist not a mathematician - that’s just how it worked out. We hatched this crazy scheme to backpack Europe for two or three weeks. We even conned our parents into buying plane tickets. We were gonna do it on the cheap. Eurail passes, hostels, cheap living, fun living. We had it all mapped out. Literally, on this huge map of Europe we found.

Sadly, the epic brother bonding trip of the summer of 2007 had to be put on hold. My brother had some personal issues come up and couldn’t swing the dates. I couldn’t change the dates due to reasons (I don’t remember), so I went solo. It was not as glorious as I had hoped, and to this day, I am terribly sad that I could not share this time with my only brother.

All the same, ready or not, I had two weeks in Europe. I landed in Germany. At this point in my life, I had never flown over a major ocean, let alone been on a plane for so long. The ride was nice enough, but still, it’s a lot your first time. I took the subway into Düsseldorf to a nearby park and lay in the grass for over an hour, just enjoying the fact that I had made it to some faraway land.

Staying with the original plan my brother and I had, I wandered my way slowly to the train station downtown. Eurail pass in hand, I boarded the evening train to Brussels. We did all the research. You can buy a Eurail pass on the cheap, and it’s good for a whole month. The ticket was good for any train, any time in all of Europe. Suckers, what a steal.

If the deal is too good, there is usually a reason. The train pulls up—a real train—with people coming and going. The conductor (or someone who I imagine to be the conductor) yells out that glorious phrase, “All Aboard!” I grab my hiking backpack (oh yes, we spent weeks going to REI learning about the best packs to backpack Europe) and jump in the nearest car.

So here’s the thing about Eurail passes. Yes, you can ride any train in Europe. Any train, anytime. Just as advertised. But you can’t sit. The ticket doesn’t come with a seat unless you buy the seat extra. We did all the research. Whoops. Wish my brother was there for that one.

Here is me, boarding a train car with a mass of people in a country I have never been to, a language I don’t speak, and a culture I know little about. I hop on the train full of excitement and land a seat, the first I find. “Excuse me, sir, that is my seat.” Okay…. “Ummm, sir, that is my seat.” Alright…. “Sir, you are in my seat.” Yeah…. I don’t …. What now? This was when the ticket agent came over to me. (Correct, they were all so kind to speak English they all knew…. What I did not.)

The agent inspected my ticket. “Sir, this ticket does not come with a seat.” He said it so matter of factly. I’ll never forget the tone, the dryness. “I’m sorry, what does that mean?” I was so confused. He looked at me, or rather through me like he had no empathy or desire to speak with me. “You may stand in the luggage compartment or in the bar cart should you desire.” I just stared at him… “I’m sorry, what now? I have a ticket!” Beyond confused now and filled with anxiety and exhaustion, I had no clue what to do. “Sir.” He said with a hint of sternness, “You will need to move to the luggage compartment or to the bar cart, please!”

I want to be clear here. I was twenty-two, degree in hand. An adult. Ready to take on the world for the first time. Truly independent. A boy, really, scared shitless. Midway through the car, I stood—adults, real adults, filling the car on both sides. A narrow aisle closes in. Men, big men on both sides. Here is me, a child alone in the world. I pulled up my pack as tight as I could, and I took a step forward towards the rear of the car near the luggage compartment.

He was tall, well over six feet. I was standing in front of his set. The German looked at me. Annoyed but calm, without words, he made it clear that I was in his way. Then he looked me right in the eyes and said just a short thing: “Live your life.”

Now, I don’t know if it was the accent, the situation, or the oddness of all of it, but those three words have stuck with me for the following seventeen years. “Live your life.” He said it so directly, so perfectly. At the moment, I couldn’t appreciate him; I just politely pushed through the crowd and awkwardly made my way to the (very) tiny luggage compartment.

Once boarding was complete, I dropped my bag and made my way to the bar car. Tragically, the bar had nothing good to drink and no “flat” water, only sparkling. No AC, and get this, no seats. A long flight, a long train ride, and dehydrated, I threw up promptly upon arriving in Brussels. I don’t care much for waffles and will never visit Brussels again, nor will I ever buy a Eurail pass.

The rest of the trip was divine, and I will have more to share on that later, but to this day, I cannot see a train without thinking about the German man’s advice: Live your life. And live I shall. Thank you, friend.

The Downeaster

Let’s jump ahead to 2022. Here is me, a man, a husband, a father, jumping on another train, the only other train I’ve ridden in my life. Wow, fifteen years… they go by in a blink. Somehow, I made my way through grad school and my doctoral program, got married, and had two kids. I started a company along the way as well and it’s been doing pretty good. We have sixty-plus employees at this point. Not bad for a kid from Florida making his way in the world.

To give you some color, at this point in my life, I am running two companies (TCG and Empifany) and have a few investments that require significant time commitments. My identity as a father is really struggling. I can’t do both. I can’t be the entrepreneur, the CEO, and the husband/father I need to be. I am required to be in two places at once. It’s just not working. Something has to give.

A few friends of mine, along with some really smart people and two mentors, all suggested I needed to find time for family and balance. A challenge was issued: Can you take thirty days away from work to be with your family? I accepted the challenge and went to work with my team, building out my first sabbatical. A practice that is now an annual ritual- thirty days away from work. Time for those I love most.

Don’t get me wrong; it was no easy feat at first. I worked with my leadership team for a year to plan out what was necessary for a prolonged absence. Once I got out of the way, it was rather easy, and to my surprise, they were all eager to step up. It’s a funny thing, really. We seem to think the world just can’t go on without us. But in reality, it will do just fine, and in my case, even better.

Shockingly, or not so shockingly, really, the company did just fine without me. I’ll save the story of my first sabbatical for another day and focus on this train. We had it all planned out: a week in Bar Habor, a weekend at Togus Pond, a long two weeks at this lovely house in Maine (a place I am still deeply in love with), and a short ride on the Downeaster to Boston for a fun week there, then back to Dallas.

If you’ve been to Maine, you are in luck and know about this glorious romantic train that runs down the countryside to Boston. It’s only a few short hours and filled with beautiful countryside. The ride is smooth and easy. Find your seat (yup, I learned that lesson), relax, look out the window, and enjoy the most beautiful scenery you can imagine for as long as you like. Oh, and the bar cart is stocked with good food, decent drinks, and water, both flat and sparkling; there are even seats there too.

My lesson from the Downeaster comes from boarding. Amtrack is new to me and we had a LOT of luggage with us. Think about it. Two kids, two adults. All traveling with luggage for thirty days. It adds up. I confirmed with the ticket agent that all of our luggage was allowed and at no extra cost. WOW! Really? Not a dime more. American Airlines would have me north of three hundred dollars by now. But no, true to their word, there was no extra fee for our luggage. I was dumbfounded.

I asked the very kind ticket agent for guidance on how to transport our luggage to the train. She seemed confused and offered no help. I looked around and found a cart. At the time, I did not realize this particular cart was for the Greyhound Bus outfit that shared the same terminal. Nonetheless, I loaded our bags on the cart and made my way down the ramp to board the train.

No security, no TSA, no bag inspection, just a guy, a cart, way too many bags, and a ramp. My family boarded the train, as did the other passengers and their bags. Here is me, a grown man, a doctor, a husband, and a father, trying to get bags on a train. I could see him looking at me from the front of the train. The conductor peered over, his hat cocked to the side. He looked at his watch. He was irritated.

I’m trying to load bag after bag as he comes up to me. “Sir, I have a schedule to keep let’s go.” He said. I respond. “Sure thing, I just need to get the bags into the luggage area.” He looked at me, annoyed. “No, you don’t understand; I have a schedule. Toss them on, or we leave without them.” I look around for a moment, “Um, sure, but don’t you need them to be secure? And what about the cart?” I asked.

His face. I will never forget the look on his face. “That’s not my cart.” He said. “And for the luggage, I don’t care where it is so long as it IS on the train.” With that, he turned in a huff and pulled the horn. I left the cart there on the ramp. I’m sure someone from Greyhound found it at some point, rather annoyed.

His words haunt me now to this day. You can take as much luggage as you like, really. You can take it with you all through life. Everywhere you go, you can pull bags on and off trains. But life will go - it has a schedule to keep -with or without you, this train will go on. Your family and your life will pass you by if you can’t get past your bags.

Bus Passes

In 2013, I had the distinct honor of working for two of the finest Judges in Dallas County to help build the first Family Drug Court program in Dallas. This was the subject of my dissertation, and I was fortunate enough to live out my research for several years. I will always be deeply grateful for this experience and the work we accomplished there, none of which had to do with trains.

Buses. I hate buses. I hated riding the bus to school as a kid. I was always getting made fun of. It was just a weird time. So here is me, an adult about twenty-seven, researching the application of social learning theory to drug court programs. I’ll save you all the boring stuff and just let you know I’ve only been on one train at this point in my life: no wife and no kids just yet.

My research and job at this point in my life were focused on why specific individuals completed drug court programs rather than quit. Spoiler alert: It has to do with the environment. But that doesn’t matter here. This story is about buses.

Dallas County didn’t have a position for a research assistant or program director for this fledgling program, so they agreed to bring me on as a “Court Coordinator.” I was issued some old-school unused judges' chambers as my “office” and ran most of the court proceedings for the family drug court program. It was a true honor and an amazing program. I am still, to this day, overcome with gratitude for the opportunity to be part of this amazing program.

Imagine this: you are addicted to a substance, be it cocaine/heroin/alcohol, whatever. You are so addicted that you now have three children taken from you. This program is your last hope of finding a life free from addiction. Your life is so tragic that you struggle to find your way to treatment. You don’t have a car to get you from home, to work, to treatment, to a support group, or to court. You are dependent on the bus system.

If you were part of this drug court program, you had to come every Thursday. And every Thursday, we would have seven bus passes for you. Well, we were supposed to, anyway. Yup, that was part of my job. Along with my research and the day-to-day operations of the program, part of my job was to secure bus passes for those in need. As it turned out, there was a lot of need.

Here’s the thing about bus passes: DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) runs the bus and light rail system around Dallas, and they do a fine job. Our family drug court program was rather new at the time, so DART never had us in the system. My job was to request bus passes as needed—every week. DART requires a thirty-day notice to issue a county-funded bus pass and then another fifteen days to deliver it. Yeah, this is county work, for sure.

I was required to anticipate how many participants we would have in court each week. So, let me get this right… Next week, we will have five participants who each need seven days' worth of passes. Okay, I can do the math—I need thirty-two passes. Right. Yeah… that checks. But wait… I have to wait 45 days to get them from DART?! SERIOUSLY?!

The frustrating part for me is that we had participants that couldn’t get anywhere. They couldn’t do what they needed to do. We have the resources, but they wouldn’t benefit! WHY? So I took my frustration to the big boss. I was sitting in her chambers. A career judge. A district judge. Here is me, a doctoral student, a young therapist, voicing my frustration and disgust with the system. She looked at me, cool and calm as ever, “Now, Chris, when has it ever taken less than forty-five days?” That’s it, that’s all she said. I got the message.

It will always take forty-five days. The very next week, I walked down to the central DART office (funny enough, I had a free DART pass as a county employee at the time). It was two stops over from the courthouse. I stood in the lobby until I found a DART employee who could use my access code to bill the county for three hundred DART bus passes. I made a log book and put the passes and the book in a locked drawer on my desk at the courthouse.

Never again did we want for bus passes.

I’ve learned three great lessons from buses and trains in my life:

1) When has life ever changed for you?

2) You can take as much luggage as you like, but the train won’t wait for you.

3) It’s your life, live it!

I hope you have enjoyed these thoughts for your self-examination. See you next week.

-CT

PS. Check out the podcast if you like to listen.

Unrelated Stuff and Things

Below you will find groups, projects, organizations, programs, and cabins I am passionate about and involved in. I hope it doesn’t come off as shameless self-promotion. All the same, they are important to me so I thought I would share. Feel free to skip them if you like.

Feeling Generous?

Counseling for the Future Foundation and Grant Halliburton Foundation are two amazing non-profits doing some great work in the field of Mental Health. You can help make a difference by giving your time, empathy, and financial support. Learn more by clicking the logos below.

A few things related to mental health:

Check out our latest mental health post on the TCG blog, and learn more about the Empifany app, the Titus Check-In System, and our newly developed Independently Strong course.

The Independently Strong course is designed specifically for spouses or partners who have experienced trauma or abuse within relationships with individuals struggling with substance use disorder. Covering topics such as trauma bonds, identifying characteristics of healthy relationships, understanding the impacts of unhealthy dynamics, boosting self-esteem to align decisions with personal values, establishing boundaries, engaging in self-awareness exercises, and delving into various other crucial aspects, this comprehensive program offers essential guidance and support for healing and empowerment. Learn more about the course here.

Need a Break?

We love going to Broken Bow. It has been a special place for me for a long time and it has been a dream to share this beautiful place with my kids. If you are interested in treating yourself to some relaxing away time up in the pines of Broken Bow feel free to book one of our cabins. There is no greater retreat than the woods.

Okay! That’s all I got. Feel free to send me an email. Anything I can do for you?