Monday, October 17, 2011

Kevin’s Story, Part 27, the Train

Winters are long in the north east part of our country.  Living on the west coast for 50 years does not make you an expert in east coast weather but, having family members relating weather stories makes it easier.  When I was growing up I remember old folks talking about the weather.  Maybe it’s having something to talk about?  The weather is boring in central California at 10 feet above sea level.  We don’t have snow drifts to talk about, closed roads, snow tires, we don’t have to put away the summer clothes and get out the winter clothes.  But we can tell stories about the really bad winter where Dad had to climb out the second story window to dig out the snow drift that would not allow us to get out of the house.  It was so exciting for a little boy to stand at the front door waiting for Dad’s shovel to finally break through.  Or the memory of driving down a tree lined road with so many colors in front of you and you could hardly see the tire tracks through all the leaves.  

Have you ever heard of the gift that keeps on giving?  When I was little I guess the fly boy wanted to impress the auburn haired girl so he brought home a gift for the little boy.  The gift came through the door in a big bag.  Maggie was so happy for the little boy as she said what’s that?  As I climbed into the bag I found a huge box.  As the future Dad helped me open the box, I was so excited.  The biggest box I ever got.  Could have stopped there but what is in the box.  Hurry!  Out of the box came a huge train engine.  It was beautiful.  Wow, green, yellow, just like a real one.  Could I ride on it?  Not quite that big.  Then the fly boy pulls out a package of batteries.  He turns the huge train upside down and puts in the batteries and then the gift started giving.  Noise, lot’s of noise, train whistles,, lights, did I say noise, I loved it.  As he put it on the floor it took up a life all it’s own.  It headed straight for the wall, hit the wall, and WOW it turned around and headed right toward me.  All I could do was laugh.  As it chased me and I ran to safety behind Mom, the train hit the chair.  You guessed it, it turned and headed directly for Mom.  And that’s the last memory I have of the train.  If I could just ask Mom what happened to the train.  My guess is the batteries ran out the same day and we could never afford replacements.

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