Many years ago a favorite professor from graduate school handed out this poem at the end of the semester (very off-topic considering the subject of the class). I was saddened to learn he had passed away some time ago with Alzheimer's. The internet says this poem was first made famous and reprinted in Ann Landers' column:
https://radreads.co/the-station-by-robert-hastings/
Every year, I re-read this wonderful poem by Robert Hastings – a reminder that the joy of life is the journey and not the destination.
Tucked away in our subconscious minds is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long, long trip that almost spans the continent. We’re traveling by passenger train, and out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hills, of biting winter and blazing summer and cavorting spring and docile fall...(continued)
