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We met on the train.
am 3. Juni 2000
Alice Steinbach and I sat with each other on a train that I was taking from Washington, D.C. to Boston. It was the day before Thanksgiving, 1998. Looking rather excentric and very much in control of herself and her suroundings, she sat next to me. She immideately dropped the lap tray attached to the seat in front of her and started to grade papers. Not knowing Steinbach at all I knew right away that she was a teacher. I leaned on the window, covered from my nose to my toes, with my new black rain coat that I had purchased for this trip. The trip was for my daughters anf myself. Setting bahind Ms. Stienbach and myself, they were thlking about the Vangou show that we had gone to in D.C. and discussing what Boston would be like. We were making this an art trip. Yhe Monet show was our next stop. Steinbach stopped the car porter and demanded that he do something about the temperature. "Can't you see how cold itis in here?" Opining one eye, I looked at the man in uniform. He very nicely told her that if the airconitioner was turned down that it would be unbareable for the crouded car. She knew she was fighting a loosing battle, but with protest. This women was interesting. I liked her right away. She knew what she wanted and she went after it with a vengance. I asked her if she was a teacher and she said yes. We started talking about her son's and her work. I had no clue that she had won a pulitzer and didn't find out for a while. We discussed my husband. He is a blind lawyer and was not with us this Thanksgiving because he was training with a new leader-dog. I explained the process of families thking these dogs as pups raising them for nearly two years, then bravely turning them back in to the leader-dog school. I said they were the hero's. She disagreed with the term "hero" in this situation but, she asked if she could write this down for future referance. Maybe she would follow a family from start to finish. Before leaving the train she told me she had just dropped her manuscript in the mail for a new book. She told me that she was anxious about it. At her stop, she stood up and gathered her things. She leaned over to me and wispered the name of her new book. I wished her luck, she smiled and disappeared. What a great book. She is what she writes. If you read this Alice I hope to run into on a train again.