My dad and I would often drive out into the rural Midwest when I was a kid. Up to Wisconsin or down to Missouri. Over to Indiana and Michigan and across to Iowa and Nebraska.
Often it was a trip that he was sent on to inspect railroad cars and he’d let me tag along. Sometimes we were lucky enough to see old steam locomotives along the way. There were a few still around in my early days.
Everywhere we went had a long handshake and a warm greeting. My dad would introduce me to his railroad colleagues and they all reached down with large vice grip hands.
Railroad yards, grain elevators, warehouses and factories that all smelled like hard work. The foreman at each facility knew ahead of time that I was accompanying my father. When we arrived, they’d hand me a hard hat of my own to wear for the inspections.
Everywhere we went had country music playing and American flags hanging. Men wore heavy oil stained boots and thick bib overalls. They all wore pressed dress shirts and some of the older gentlemen wore bolo ties.
Most of these trips were taken in my dad’s company pickup truck. The seats were like church benches that made it hard to fall asleep for a tired little boy. The truck had a CB radio and a regular radio always tuned in to WGN.
My Oldman was a GN guy. He often called in and talked with Wally Phillips when the topic was railroad stuff. Back in the 1970’s, WGN played a lot of music.
We would also hear the farm reports, traffic reports and the occasional news report.
One of the songs that always reminds me of my railroad road trips with my daddy was by Tom T. Hall called “I Love.”
I woke up to the smell of heavy machinery and cigarette smoke this morning and playing in the back of my head was this song.
I assume the Oldman was visiting from eternal rest. Stopping by to tuck in his grandchildren and tell me that he loves me. He probably just finished an inspection before he visited us and shook loose my memories.
I laid there thinking about long country roads littered with diners and small gas stations with glass bottles of Coke. The hospitality of old railroad men who could bend rail spikes with their hands. I thought about the empty boxcars and flatbeds that became my impromptu playground equipment. Old company dogs that stood guard over me while my dad was checking wheels and weldings.
And I thought about Tom T. Hall playing on WGN…
“I love little baby ducks, old pickup trucks, Slow-movin' trains and rain.
I love little country streams, sleep without dreams, Sunday school in May and hay…And I love you, too
I love leaves in the wind, pictures of my friends, birds of the world and squirrels.
I love coffee in a cup, little fuzzy pups, bourbon in a glass and grass…And I love you, too
I love honest, open smiles, kisses from a child, Tomatoes on the vine and onions.
I love winners when they cry, losers when they cry, Music when it's good and life…… And I love you, too”
Someday when I see my dad again, I want to get in an old pickup truck and listen to soft old country songs and inspect steam locomotives, boxcars and cabooses. Take long country roads across heaven where the corn fields are all perfect and the diners have a pie cooler behind the counter.
I sure was blessed to be a fortunate son to a railroad man.
Time to make a pot of strong black coffee and turn on the Farm report on the kitchen radio. Maybe make some runny eggs and some burnt edge toast.
The best time of the day is the two hour stretch before sunrise. It’s about as close as you can get to heaven or in my case this morning, 1974 Cedar Rapids, Iowa.
Be astonished today. Cozy up to the fire and surround yourself with something that loves you back.
