July 01, 2011
The Sound of a Train
I love the sound of a train. When I left the big city to move here I asked the Realtor before I made a bid on the place, "can I hear a train at night?" She looked apologetic when she said, "yes, there's one that runs about a mile away, you can hear it most nights", not realizing that to me that's exactly what I wanted to hear, that comforting sound.
I grew up in a town with a small log mill in the mountains of the West and I used to lay in bed at night and listen to the soulful melody of a train running a mile behind our house. I remember those damp nights when the rumble of the train came right up into the house and made my whole room resonate with the melancholy beauty of its sound. That haunting sound today simply brings back memories of those nights safely in my bed, home safe and surrounded by people that love me, the laughter of my Mom in the kitchen with my Dad, a tonic for any worries a child could have.
I'm probably unique in this affection. Henry David Thoreau complained that his life and tranquility were interrupted daily by the sound of the train passing near Walden. "The whistle of the locomotive penetrates my woods, sounding like the scream of a hawk sailing over some farmer's yard". So, although I love the sound of a train, I identified with Thoreau briefly, after I first moved to one of my first post-college apartments, right across the street from an airport where rent was cheap and where the sounds of aircraft were a constant. It wasn't just airplanes, for there was a helicopter flight school, and my morning's sleep was often interrupted as their blades beat the air into submission outside my window at first light. When the helicopters weren't flying the students were, and although, as a fledgling pilot I loved the sound of an airplane, hearing them 24 and 7 wasn't really what I had planned on.
But on the morning 9-12-2001, I'd have given anything to hear the sound of a airplane over my house, to see a contrail in the sky. The heavens were still and vaporless, as we as a people collectively came to a halt in mourning and awakening to a devastation we'd never dreamed of. I knew we'd go to war over this. It would be the 3rd war of my generations time, the 5th of my Fathers', and I was afraid it would be the worst.
Like any war, there would be casualties.However, where we would go was so different than the trenches of France or the skies above Germany. We would be fighting in a land that is violent and raw, a place and a culture that does not lend itself to leniency or the principals of freedom. There is a fine honed edge between daily life and senseless violence in those lands and the price of any innocence would be high. Raised mostly in affluent times, like myself, with safety and security, the soldiers would be saying their goodbyes to parents and loved ones, with courage driven by fear and hope, with only their training and an admirable commitment to the duty they had taken on.
As I sit at my little table writing this, an old train style lantern lighting my keyboard, ten years have gone by, and though my world is quiet except the occasional sound of the train, we are still at war. As I write, I listen to the song of Gordon Lightfoot who sings "Who are these ones who would lead us now; To the sound of a thousand guns; Who'd storm the gates of hell itself; To the tune of a single drum; Where are the girls of the neighborhood bars; Whose loves were lost at sea; In the hills of France and on German soil; From Saigon to Wounded Knee; Who come from long lines of soldiers; Whose duty was fulfilled; In the words of a warriors will; And protocol".
It seems as if some of our leaders wish to forget why we fight; forget what duty is. "In God We Trust" is on our dollar, but how long until that is replaced with some new age slogan and the visage of someone not ever tested in battle, honed under fire. How long until "One Nation Under God" is repealed for a catchy phrase that won't offend those that don't embrace the principals and Christian faith this country was founded on?
"In the words of a warriors will, and protocol". As the song ends, I pray for the future of our great nation. I pray for the the safety of all of the military personnel that took the call of duty, in Afghanistan, in Iraq, in support at home, wherever they may serve. I yearn for simpler times long ago, for other sights and sounds, log trains curving down forested hills in the rain, the whistle of their steadfast engines lulling me to sleep in a house in a nation Under God.
- Brigid
We don't get it every night here at 4th and G in San Diego, but every now and then we get the cry of a freight train in the early morning hour. A nice contrast to the motorcyles and revving autos
Posted by: Alan Kellogg at July 1, 2011 08:31 PMFor some reason I have always had the sound of trains around my domicile since leaving my parents home so many years ago. I would miss that! From the one bedroom apartment to the two bedroom and my first, second, and third house I call home now.
I simply would not feel home unless I heard the sound of a train. I get it many times as where I live has a freight classification yard nearby.
I too long for simpler times. God Bless.
Posted by: Kelly at July 1, 2011 09:16 PMmore like 100 then 50 yards away for my first 18 years. It was an ore train coming ang going to Escanaba to load Iron Ore into ships. at the peak it was every 20 minutes or so.
Even now it is a couple a night. Going home for vacation I hear the first one the first night....then it is just a background and will not wake or bother me unless something different happens like it stopping, or once it had stopped down the line and the engines were working hard to gather speed again, so they were louder.
Here I hear the Union Pacific about two miles from my bedroom. Long away and barely audible over the interstate noise just a bit less than half a mile from me.
"That haunting sound today simply brings back memories of those nights safely in my bed, home safe and surrounded by people that love me, the laughter of my Mom in the kitchen with my Dad, a tonic for any worries a child could have."
I grew up "three houses from the tracks" and that sentence cradles all that was good and right about it. My brother called one day all excited to tell me he'd found a new apartment and "it's 5 miles from home and OUR TRACKS run right outside the back door!"
When there aren't any trains around, I'll settle for the sound of a man snoring. As long as I could hear Dad snore, I knew nothing bad could get to me.
Thanks for the reminder. I'll go call Mom and Dad now and remind them how very much they're loved.
Posted by: Wrella at July 1, 2011 09:32 PM9/11
I was under the wing of a SWA flight fueling it up when all of a sudden, I realized no one was working the flight but me. I knew someone had hit on of the Towers (the local moron rumor monger said it was a SWA flight going to Islip) hearing it told as I rushed into ops for another fuel ticket due to some late flights (weather in DFW iirc) and rushed out to work the next inbound I was responsible for.
During that flight was when everything stopped...Then it got real busy. I saw airlines I never heard of as everything was sent to the nearest airport.
I lived a mile off the main run way. It was very odd to not hear a single plane take off those days afterward.
a few days later we were called back in and sent the first flights out.
By Monday the week after we had a full schedule. SWA flew when others canceled, used only their paid for planes, and those they had mostly paid off, loaded the planes with mail and cargo and turned a profit from then on. due to the stoppage they broke even that quarter, turning their normal profit the next.
A few weeks later, working over night, the FBI was patrolling the terminal, walked past me fueling equipment and never noticed I had forgotten my id badge in the office...great security there folks.
My little getaway in the woods is tight up against a 10-ga rail that runs a little tourist railroad. As the train crosses the road up the way the whistle blows. It's a lovely sound. All the kiddies run to the edge of my property to look down the hill at the little Hobo Railroad chugging by. One of my favorite things about this spot.
Posted by: Maureen at July 2, 2011 06:15 AMMy wife's office overlooks the south end of IAD.
When flights resumed the entire building staff was on her side of the building, crying, as the first plane climbed over the tree line.
Our townhouse was north of IAD. I heard the sound of flaps being extended as the first arrival made its approach. I rushed out front to find several neighbors watching ... and crying.
The short line near Grandma's still ran steam when I was a kid. Nothing will lull you to sleep better than the rumble of coal cars accented by a whistle (not a horn).
As for this Long War. Political Correctness will kill us.
Posted by: Stretch at July 2, 2011 10:41 AMA wonderful and thought provoking post. For me, this hit home, not with the sounds of trains. But, deeper....we would do well to remember what those who came before us fought and died for. We want to believe we can legislate security. But, we can't. The threat to liberty comes, not only from the outside terrorist. But, it comes from the inside as well...from those who would take away liberty at the expense of security. This is the most insidious and dangerous of all.
So, who will lead us into the future? Who will understand that personal liberty is what sets our nation apart from almost every other nation in the world? And, who will fight to protect that liberty? Those are the right questions.
Well said, Brigid.
SWModel66
Posted by: Mike at July 2, 2011 11:09 AMI grew up two blocks away from the Washington Branch Rail Road, a spur of the B&O connecting Baltimore and Washington DC. I loved to hear the sound of the freight trains that hurtled by at all hours. My brothers and I got so that we could tell the difference between the sound between of a string of freight cars and a coal train. Every once in a while an old steam train would go by. There is only one private rail line near me now, it only has about two trains a day, and I do miss the sound.
Tarheel Repub Out!
I don't mind the rumbling but the three to five Leslie Supertyphon horns on the engines grate on my nerves..just like they are supposed to do. For me growing up it was the sound of Midwest thunderstorms and the Lockheed/Hughes Constellation powering down overhead to land at the Kansas City Municipal Airport. The rumble of those 4 18 cylinder engines was a lullaby to my young ears. I still miss that sound.
Posted by: I-RIGHT-I at July 2, 2011 03:50 PMThank you, Brigid. I, too, can hear the low whistle of your train as the sound drifts up the valley on the soft breeze in the evening.
On the afternoon of 9/12, we all stopped to watch the single fighter plane on patrol far enough away we could hear no sound at all. Someone else who we would never know, but nonetheless would sacrifice everything for us.
Just like our parents for us.
And we for our kids.
Posted by: Dave at July 2, 2011 04:44 PMWell said once again Brigid. So many seem to have lost sight of what made this country great.
Posted by: Tango Juliet at July 2, 2011 09:36 PMThe coal trains run every night about 1/2 mile from my house.
I don't mind hearing trains but it's rather unnerving during spring thunderstorm to hear that load rushing sound and have to wait for the whistle before deciding to run for the cellar.
Feeling the trains go by is another thing entirely.
Posted by: ThomasD at July 2, 2011 10:05 PM
