She Likes Trains: Indomitable Train
Shelley J Alongi

 

Happy new year happy trains happy living happy work happy cats happy loving happy happy
[Quoted without permission.]

The engineer whose messages preceeds this is indomitable along with his train, and the first train of 2013. The indomitable train crew is toasted. 8705. Now, curiosity slaked, distractions eased if only momentarily, we march forward into 2013, the lucky year, trains move forward as do we. Next year, we�ll bring party horns. I�ll bring a better bell. I�ll bring cookies. No, I didn�t bring them this year. We�ll meet again and toast the indomitable train crew of 2014. But for now, let us go forward in peace, and prosperity. Let us march indomitably on through the next twelve months, toasting trains, living through distractions, and enjoying life. It only gets better from here.

last week has been terribly distracting. My distraction this week has nothing to do with trains. Distractions are not centered around engineers, locomotives, engineer drama, or even magic.

The distraction for the last week has been the death of U.S. Retired Army General H. Norman Schwartzkopf, a man who gained fame as the Supreme Commander for Desert Storm, laying out the blueprints and executing the operation and completion of this mission. Many things have transpired since then politically, spiritually, emotionally in my own life, but I have been given pause to reflect over those years. Twenty-one years have passed since the build up to and execution of that hundred hour ground war and the somewhat marred return of troops home and the following years bringing their hard times and happiness to all involved directly and indirectly.

Why would this particular death distract me and what has it to do with trains? Well, perhaps the only connection with trains might be that the General�s father conducted his military service in the Middle east, and the Alco98 locomotive on which I had my first ride served in that area of the world during those same years. It is an interesting connection, if a legitimate one. A general scribbling of the pen of these words does not corroborate or deny the fact of their existence together, but, for me, a rail enthusiast with a predisposition for reading the biographies of U.S. Army generals past and present, the connection is sentimental, if tenuous.

The remainder of the distraction stems from the fact that the General in question responded in 1991 to a letter that I wrote to him apparently laying out in great detail the circumstance of my life, the fact that I had read U.S. Grant�s memoirs, invited him to a choir concert, and told him we should have marched inexorably on to Baghdad. That might be an opinion based on what I did not know, but certainly the rest was truth as I see it. I did read the memoirs, I did invite him to a choir, and I told him the reason for my blindness and who knows what other earth shattering events I included in my missive. It was a longish letter, to be sure.

His response was very kind and encouraging. I remember he said that his schedule wasn�t his own but if he could he would contact me about the choir performance. That never happened. No worries on my part. A general and a Bachelor of Arts candidate are two very busy people. The thing that has always rung in the back of my mind is his satement that �You truly have an indomitable spirit.�

Indomitable spirit? Well, I believe the man was right, even if sometimes I feel as if this is all just a dress rehearsal and perhaps I should have done something differently? Whatever I did and however I did it, here we are in December, 2012. The passage of time takes its toll on lives and locomotives.

You knew I had to get those locomotives in there somewhere. And it is on New Year�s Eve, my second New Year�s Eve at Fullerton, that I finally disengage my distractions, put aside the many hours of over time I�ve done, put down my Daisy Dalrymple mysteries, take time away from my dinners at Baja Mexican Grill, and successfully finish the last transcript project of 2012. Here I am again at the Fullerton trainstation, this time a little later than last year, and equipped with an iPhone, and an indomitable, restless spirit. I, along with others, await the arrival of the first indomitable train of 2013 and its undaunted crew. It has been an eventful year, bring on the next year. We can do this!

Hefting the super hero bag to my shoulder I take two buses to the station and spend the longest amount of time there since October, 2012. My forays to the station have been brief, if not significant. Christmas Eve saw me there for the moving of four locomotives. Unable to locate the Southern California Travel Group, smallish in attendance that night, and late as my arrival was, I spent the time at the Bourbon Street Caf�, eating the �biggest nastiest yummiest cheeseburger� the man could produce.

�That�s the way we do it here,� he informs me as I drop way more than I meant to on the meal. But, heck, it�s Christmas Eve after all. I�ve worked double time one day and have one more to go. Then, I�ll have two days off. I enjoy the meal and drop by a deserted platform to sit and wait for a train, all the while not knowing that two days later I�ll be thrown into this dither of reflection, not knowing that my pre railroad hero lies at death�s door, felled by illness; not a mine field, not the winds of war, but the inexorable marching on of age. The man who tells me I have an indomitable spirit does not, as a mere mortal, have an indomitable body. We are all, it seems , in the same boat, or on the same train.

Recording the event of the power move on my iPhone I head home and get ready for work on Christmas, 2012.

The months since October have seen me here for brief moments, enjoying a meal at the Santa Fe Caf�, taking in a freight or two, but not interacting with any of my engineers. We are all, it seems, in chains, working for our bread, and spending money on Christmas.

Now, New Year�s Eve, here we are again. This year it�s about pictures, the snowman that takes a hit, losing his air, not successfully ringing in the new year, but entertaining. I hold my iPhone. I record the last train, the pooring of the Martinelis. I capture the jocularity, the too early firework beginning from Disney or Fullerton High School, or wherever it originates tonight. The last train of the year comes on the heels of midnight. I hold my bell. Yes, I�m the one tonight with the instrument which wil ring in the new year.

�Do you have party horns?� brett asks, Scott.

We�ve forgotten them.

NO worries. Here I am with a bell, something I grabbed on impulse as I supremely exercised authority over a cat who had dug in for a good sleep on a black railroad bag. I had to exercise my dominant cat rule over my beautiful, little calico and let her know that it was time for me and my bells to depart her castle. No worries, I would return soon, I said, soft hearted under my rod of iron. Remember the image of Storman Norman? The expressive displays of temper? Ok, not quite like that, but perhaps on the same lines. Brandy rushed in a huff from the bag, and I was out the door with my bells.

Not a train bell, I inform the celebrants at cage number 2 standing among the bags and tripods, the pizza boxes, duffle bags and various other ephemera of a railfan party. This is better than Disneyland. Certainly less crowded.

We prepare to sing the song and toast the first train crew of 2013. All the while, I must keep a promise to my post railroad hero, an engineer who has indomitably endured my excitement for three years. Or, is it four years? �I called you three years ago on New Year�s day� I tell him on January 1, 2013 on a voicemail. I think I was less nervous when I called this time. But, tonight, I am diligent. We must retrieve the road number on the first train of 2013. No fog coats the grimy locomotives, hides the orange paint scheme, shrouds the platform in mist, obscuring the pedestrian bridge only feet from our little happy party.

The promise comes from the voicemail Glenn leaves in February 2012 and the following discovery that we could not locate that road number. This time, standing near, eyes to the ready, we retrieve it for him, and me, because he made me curious. 8705, we say. This is the first train of 2013. It comes through with its groaning locomotives, the glange contacting the wheels, now the proper term escapes me. The bell in my left hand clangs, my right hand holds my phone. I don�t� know if I got the action with the front facing camera. The audio is absolutely clear and completely recognizable. Voices, the overtones of bells, the squeaks and squeals. And, before us passes the 275 cars, and we toast the first train crew of 2013. The indomitable crew that took the first train through Fullerton, the indomitable railfrans who now sing the standard tune of �Old Lang Zein� but whose words are completely different.

May all your jip jas be forgot,
May all your trains lack grime;
May all the tracks you�re near be hot,
May your Amtraks run on time.

May all your manifests be seen,
May all your trains bring freight,
May all your signal lights be green,
May this coming year be great.

[Words by Scott the Foamer]

It�s a creative song. Fireworks sparkle above us, the indomitable train moves forward. It was on track three.

But, the important thing is we got the number for the engineer. I don�t� know whether he wanted it; but, here it was.

So, last February when they rerouted the Starlight you asked me what the
first train of 2012 was. I had the voice mail till two months ago when I
changed to an iPhone. this year, we were dilligent. It came at 12:05 it was
8705. eastboudn on track 3? track 3 for sure. Now there it is for all
posterity to enjoy. Happy New Year #1 engineer. I'm going to finish my
project and probably sleep. We'll see. :):

So, I did tell him it was eastbound. I don�t remember. And, I reminded my number one engineer that we hadn�t gotten the number last year. But, here it was this year.

Wonder if he thinks I�m indomitable? An indomitable distraction?

Something like that. No matter. If he talks to me I�ll take it.

Soon after the dying away of my hand bell and the disappearance of the train, the party breaks up in an organized manner. Brett has it all down to a science and instructs us all in how to pack everything in less than forty-five minutes. We all head back to our lives, me to do the final edit on my project, and Brandy to her bag.

Happy new year happy trains happy living happy work happy cats happy loving happy happy
[Quoted without permission.]

The engineer whose messages preceeds this is indomitable along with his train, and the first train of 2013. The indomitable train crew is toasted. 8705. Now, curiosity slaked, distractions eased if only momentarily, we march forward into 2013, the lucky year, trains move forward as do we. Next year, we�ll bring party horns. I�ll bring a better bell. I�ll bring cookies. No, I didn�t bring them this year. We�ll meet again and toast the indomitable train crew of 2014. But for now, let us go forward in peace, and prosperity. Let us march indomitably on through the next twelve months, toasting trains, living through distractions, and enjoying life. It only gets better from here.



      

 

 

Copyright © 2013 Shelley J Alongi
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"