I can close my eyes now and bring back those wonderful trips, starting with the smell of hot metal when we passed through the section between two cars on our way to the dining car, and continuing with the "rackety-clack, rackety-clack" of wheels on steel tracks, speeding us through the deserts of southern New Mexico and Arizona, stopping at towns with interesting names like Deming, Lordsburg, and Tucson to pick up more people heading for the Golden State.

I can see the long aisles of the pullman cars after the sleeping berths had all been made up and the green curtains drawn for privacy...my sister and I coming back from our final trip to the bathroom before being boosted up into our upper berth to giggle while putting our robes and slippers into the green mesh hammock slung against the side of the car. Toots always wanted to talk or tell stories or sing songs, but the subdued sound of the wheels on the rails and the gentle swaying of the pullman car always put us to sleep very quickly, and when we awakened in the morning we would lean out through our curtains and poke our heads through our mother's curtain in the lower berth to wake her up.

"Muddie", my little sister would whisper loudly, "Muddie, can we get up now?" (We never quite figured out how the word "mother" evolved into "muddie" to rhyme with "goodie".)

Mother would open her eyes sleepily and say "Don't you want to sleep a little longer?" in a hopeful tone of voice. Following our negative reply, she would help us down into her bed, where we would roll up the window shades and look out to see where we were.

Sometimes we could see the outskirts of the next city we would be passing through, and sometimes we could see the dusty buildings of a town too small to have a train station, but mostly we just saw miles and miles of desert, with mountains in the distance.

Soon we would get up and dress (not easy in a pullman berth, even for little kids like us!) and get our faces and hands washed in preparation for breakfast. As soon as we heard that mellifluous gong, we were off to the dining car, where we would feel like princesses, surrounded by snowy white linens, sparkling glassware and gleaming silver.

Our waiter always seemed to know what we were feeling, because he treated us royally, handing us our very own menus and saying "We have powerful good pancakes this morning, young ladies". Toots and I would giggle our "Thank you" and study the menu very seriously, even though I was the only one who could read. Mother always had to write down what we wanted to eat on an order blank, and sometimes our decisions were a long time coming! Pancakes and bacon or pancakes and sausage? The pancakes were a certainty, three big cakes in a stack, with lots of butter and maple syrup...it makes me hungry even today just to think about them!

Our freshly squeezed orange juice was served in a chilled glass, which was set into a bed of crushed ice in a large silver chalice-like holder. Mother's coffee was in a silver pot, and our eating utensils were heavy silver plate set next to dazzling white linen napkins. If I concentrate I can feel the heft of the knife and fork in my hands.

By the time we got back to our pullman car, the berths were usually all put back into daytime mode, with the occasional exception of the late sleeper. The outside walls of the upper berths when they were closed were a gleaming dark surface, I'm not sure what kind, but it looked a lot like our mahogany furniture in the dining room.

We would pass the long hours of the day by taking turns sitting by the window, occupying ourselves with coloring books and paper dolls or reading. Mother would sometimes play with us; usually she read or crocheted, but she was always there to suggest new games or to settle altercations, which were not too frequent.

Later in the day, vendors would sometimes come around with baskets of wonderful things...boxes of Aplets and Cotlets (a confection I still enjoy when I can find them), scenic postcards, and all kinds of souvenirs showing the beauties of California, oranges, palm trees, ocean waves, sandy beaches, the Golden Gate Bridge, Rainbow Pier, Santa Monica Pier and the Sierra Nevada mountains, snow-capped in the distance. One year I saved up my allowance for months so that next time I was on the train I could buy a deck of playing cards with pictures of oranges trees on the backs, a treasure I prized for years!

Those summers are among my most precious memories, not only the days by the sea in Long Beach, but most especially the joy of getting there on the train. How I would love to hear that conductor's voice again, calling "B-o-o-o-a-r-r-d!!!"