Block 53

You know how it feels to wait?

You know the wait will end,

but the wait

seems forever. 

When driving through Logan,

as a child,

you couldn't get 

from the westside

to the southside

without waiting for

a train.

Do you remember 

how long trains used to be?

One or two engines pulling

car,

after car,

after car

of who knows what.

 The ding,

ding,

ding,

ding 

of the crossing bars.

The rhythmic

rumblings of the iron wheels

 going over the rails.

Learning to read

the names 

on the cars.

(Probably made me 

a better reader.)

And then,

the 

LITTLE RED CABOOSE

behind the train

with the friendly 

railroader

standing on the back deck

who would always wave.

That caboose was special.

It let me know 

that the wait

was over.

Soon, 

the crossbars would raise

and we would be 

on our way,

always looking to see

if the friendly 

railroader was still

standing there

waving at people.

Now,

when trains go by

there are no cabooses.

No need for a place

for the railroaders to ride

because they aren't needed

to throw the switches

when the train comes to,

or leaves,

an area.

Now,

trains go by so fast

that one  can't even get the

engineers attention

for a quick wave.

Dear Lord,

 Thank you for cabooses. Thank you for for purring something at the end of trains that let me know the wait was over. Thank you for the switchmen who rode in them who waved. And thank you for the bright lantern that always swung, glowing brightly, from the roof of the caboose over the little deck that always told me, "It's nighttime, the railroaders are asleep so they put me out here to wave at you."

Amen

Pennsylvania Depot . . . 4th and Melbourne . . . Logansport, Indiana