The Tracks

Train tracks will forever hold a special place in my heart. I would venture to guess that most people look at train tracks and see just that. They provide a way to transport goods across the country.  They give people jobs.  For some, they are used as a means to get themselves to a better life. To some people they are little more than a noisy nuisance, but they are and will always be enchanting to me.  To me, they are magical. They are awe-inspiring. Train tracks have an uncanny ability to instantaneously take me back to a place of innocence. To a place far away from all the drama of the world today. To a place where the Internet didn’t exist yet.  I grew up on the train tracks.  Well, not quite on the train tracks, but close enough. We lived on a dead-end road just outside of a small town.  We were surrounded by fields and forests and more fields and more forests, but in between the closest field and the first forrest lay the train tracks. They were close. I used to absolutely love laying on the living room couch at night with the windows cracked open, hearing the whistle and roar of every passing train. It was even better with a thunderstorm.

I remember the countless times we would put our pennies in our pockets and walk across the field in anticipation of having the coins run over, returning home with an abundance of joy and flat, useless pennies. The first thing we did when we got to the tracks was feel the tracks. Although we would have heard and/or seen a train if it had recently gone by, it was much more thrilling to base it off the feel of the tracks – if they were warm, it was exciting to know a train had just passed; if they were cold, we knew it wouldn’t be long before the next train came chugging by. We carefully bent down and put our ears on the tracks to listen for the rumble of the oncoming train – because listening was serious business at the tracks. And then we picked our place and put our coins on the tracks and waited. While we waited, we would talk and laugh and look for cool rocks.  Then as each train rode by, just like kids do with with semis on the highway, we liked to motion to conductors to blow the whistle for us. Most did, but not all, and it was ALWAYS electrifying when they did.  Then there were the rare moments that a passenger train came by, and that was an entirely different experience.  I remember wondering where the trains were coming from, where they were going, who/what they were carrying, and what it would be like to be a conductor. I still wonder these things when I see a train pass or hear a train’s whistle in the distance.

One particular visit to the tracks stands out in my memories as beyond special. My dad, my brother, and I ventured across the street and alongside the field, as usual, and went through our normal routine.  On this one particular day, though, the conductor of one of the trains went above and beyond.  If there was any way to know who the conductor was this day and thank him, I would in a heartbeat. He has no idea the joy he brought to two little kids with a simple gesture.  As he drove by, we waved and gestured for a whistle blow, and he happily obliged.  Not only did he wave and blow his whistle, but as he passed us, two small packages came flying out the window.  He had thrown us something, and we couldn’t wait to see what it was!  We rushed to grab the two packages sealed in a thick brown plastic wrap.  My parents liked to instill the virtue of patience in us growing up, so we had to wait to get home to find out what was inside.  This day, going home was just as exciting as heading out had been.  We got home, and with my mom and sister joining us, we opened one of the packages.  They were MREs, meals ready to eat.  As a kid who had never heard of those, that was the coolest thing anyone could have done for us.  We carefully went through everything in that MRE, fascinated by a meal completely and totally unfamiliar to us.  Little did we know, they aren’t very good 😂.  The taste of the MREs, however, could not dwindle our happiness that day.  That day was special.  That conductor made it special.

I feel blessed to have grown up near the train tracks.  Not only did they give me some of my most precious memories with my father and brother (and occasionally my sister would join us), but they also provided life lessons.  The first lesson is to enjoy the simple things.  Moments are what you make of them; you don’t have to spend money or do anything elaborate to have some of your most amazing times.  Time at the tracks cost nothing, aside from the coins we laid on them, but man did my dad make them fun!  The second lesson is that a simple gesture can mean the world to someone, and you may never even know it.  That conductor left a lasting impression on this little girl, but to him, he may have just thrown out some MREs he didn’t like.  Never hesitate to be kind, and always do what you can to put a smile on someone’s face because you just never know the impact that it may have.  The third lesson is to let your wonder take you wherever you want to go.  You are not limited by anything but yourself.  I never knew where the trains were going, but the fact that they could go there meant that I could, too.  At the train tracks, I felt nothing but wonder and excitement and adventure.  They are a symbol of simplicity, a symbol of kindness, and a symbol of freedom.