On the Amtrack train returning from Culberson County Texas, there was an Amish woman, with her blonde haired son. She was one of those German beauties with rosy cheeks and blonde hair, blue eyes, natural beauty of supreme excellence. Her son was as beautiful as his mother, it was like the "Witness" script in real life. We were in one of those cars that had an observation deck on the top and a snack bar, with restrooms on the lower deck. We were passing through West Virginia in the fall. All the hickory trees were yellow with the frosty glitter of ice on the leaves. The woman stood guard over the passage way that lead to the restrooms while her son was in there. She stood within inches of my table in the car. I had collected some brightly colored rock samples from Culberson county Texas. I had them on the table, they were small pebbles. I saw her looking closely at them. I told her where they were from and why I had them. One was dark brown like chocolate, but it sparkled in the sunlight because it had tiny quartz crystals all over it's surface. I told her she could take one for the boy if she wanted to. She reached out with a farm-work chapped hand and took the sparkly pebble, examined it closely then put it back. I got off in Washington D.C.
I often wonder about that woman.