Monday, January 4, 2021

RRXing

 

RRXing

 

The tracks cut a swath right through the north end of town. If I want to go anywhere, I have to cross over them. It makes no difference if I’m in a hurry or have time to burn, I have to factor in the possibility of waiting for a train to go by. There are over twenty trains a day carrying coal to the West coast or bringing import cars from Asia to the Midwest. Whatever the cargo, I still have to put my foot on the brake and wait.

 

The other day, sitting at the tracks daydreaming, a remembrance came to mind. As a kid I always took the bus to school. Whether it was nice or storming, the yellow bus was my mode of transportation. On the way to school, the bus had to cross several railroad tracks. It would stop, put out the sidearm with its red stop sign, open the door and out would jump a boy or girl whose job it was to flag the bus safely across the tracks. The bus crossed over, picked up the flagger and be off to school.

 

I wanted to be a flagger. That person had to be an older student. One trained to look both ways on the tracks making sure it was safe for the bus full of kids to cross. The flagger wore a white sash with an attached chrome badge. I wanted to be one. It was something about the white sash, the badge and the responsibility of looking both ways and waving the bus through that made my heart go wild. Finally I got to be one.

 

I was startled out of my memory by the guy behind me honking his horn. The arm barrier was up, the lights stopped flashing and the bell stopped ringing. Time to move on over the tracks and say good by to the memory of times past.

 

These days you don’t see kids jumping off the bus and waving it across the tracks. No more sashes, badges or respect. Today, what parent would allow his child to do such a dangerous and foolish thing? Bravery and honor out the window as our kids are protected from harm’s way. The daring days of youth gone forever.

 

I only wish I had kept my white sash and badge. I could wear them in the privacy of my truck, looking both ways as I bounce across the tracks.

 

 

 

 

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