Two decades ago, I was told I should not fly anymore because of an inner-ear issue. Over the years, I have come to view that pronouncement as a blessing for multiple reasons.

Since then, I have crisscrossed the U.S. via train countless times — trains that often carry an economically challenged and diverse cross-section of passengers. These men, women and children, in my opinion, are decidedly more “educated,” aware and compassionate than the self-proclaimed intellectuals residing in elitist bubbles floating high over the power-centers of Washington, D.C., New York City and any other location where the half-of-one percent gather to dictate the future of the working class, the disenfranchised and small-town America.

Meeting such real people is the highlight of every single long-distance train trip. As one who grew up in abject poverty and was homeless often as a child, each journey reinforces the decency and character of these Americans, while also serving as a stark reminder of the daily struggles they face simply to survive.

The absolute lowlight of these long-distance train trips is the travel through what were once amazingly vibrant small towns — the backbones of their region, state and even our nation — and are now nothing more than ghost towns, with........

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