Throughout the years, opportunities to meet interesting people have presented themselves in many ways. Most assuridly there have been the rich and famous, others not so much. Yet it is this group of relatively unknown characters, I find most interesting and in some respects, intriguing.
Ironically, we faithfully search the web, peering, laughing and sometimes bookmarking our favorite videos, all in the name of entertainments, ours and those we pass it on to. For some, this claim to five minute infamy might be just that, five minutes. For others, cult status may be achieved, with millions of "hits" worldwide, they are pressured to perform.
As I ask the memory banks to cough up bits and pieces of interesting people I have met, sounds of a distant train whistle signal the early morning Lakeland pass through . Quite some distance from here, the soft breezes carrying the sounds, awakening the neighborhood,it also reveals my first memory of meeting someone I thought to be quite interesting, unique and one of a kind. My mother, mortified, made it inherently clear, this encounter was not to be repeated, ever.
As a child, living close to the railroad, our house was perched on a hill, the railroad passed below, but a favorite pass time was sitting in the grass counting all the cars, waiting for the engineer to wave or blow the horn, the other assistant standing in the caboose would give that final parting wave. A small station not too far up the street allowed the train at times, to slow to a crawl. As I watched fascinated, the door of the boxcar opened ever s slowly. A gruff and grubby looking gentleman peered from within, throwing something out, then in flash, jumped as well. Moving closer to the white picket fence surrounding the yard, I watched with keen interest. In comparison to my size, this man seemed massive. Collecting his belongings, he began walking up the hill towards the house. I don't believe he saw me, but I was going to make sure he did!
My immediate job as the yard watcher was to wait for the older neighborhood kids to return from school, but this massive world traveler, lumbering towards my yard, towards me, was so much more important! Damn near gave the poor man heart failure by yelling "hey who are you?" Now that I think about it, I don't think he wanted to be seen nor did he see me, I remember running along the fence, through the rose trellis, standing on the steps and in rapid fire succession, questioning the weary traveler. As a four year old on a mission, this guy did not have a prayer!
As I opened the kitchen door, my new found friend in tow, words of questioning praise suddenly turned into a look of horror on my mother's face. "Mommy, this is my new friend, he says he is hungry, he says he will work for food but I told him you wouldn't mind 'cause you are a good cook, Daddy says so, and...............I never had a chance to finish! In a flash, my mother grabbed me, I think. The man never got food, never spoke a word but ran as fast as he could back towards the railroad tracks, my mother hollering making sure he was gone.......for good. As for me, the lesson learned "don't talk to strangers" made me realize, strangers are fascinating, just CAREFULLY pick and choose! For months, I would watch, hoping he would return and wave. Maybe he could become our friend and tell me all about riding the trains, maybe?
Ironically, we faithfully search the web, peering, laughing and sometimes bookmarking our favorite videos, all in the name of entertainments, ours and those we pass it on to. For some, this claim to five minute infamy might be just that, five minutes. For others, cult status may be achieved, with millions of "hits" worldwide, they are pressured to perform.
As I ask the memory banks to cough up bits and pieces of interesting people I have met, sounds of a distant train whistle signal the early morning Lakeland pass through . Quite some distance from here, the soft breezes carrying the sounds, awakening the neighborhood,it also reveals my first memory of meeting someone I thought to be quite interesting, unique and one of a kind. My mother, mortified, made it inherently clear, this encounter was not to be repeated, ever.
As a child, living close to the railroad, our house was perched on a hill, the railroad passed below, but a favorite pass time was sitting in the grass counting all the cars, waiting for the engineer to wave or blow the horn, the other assistant standing in the caboose would give that final parting wave. A small station not too far up the street allowed the train at times, to slow to a crawl. As I watched fascinated, the door of the boxcar opened ever s slowly. A gruff and grubby looking gentleman peered from within, throwing something out, then in flash, jumped as well. Moving closer to the white picket fence surrounding the yard, I watched with keen interest. In comparison to my size, this man seemed massive. Collecting his belongings, he began walking up the hill towards the house. I don't believe he saw me, but I was going to make sure he did!
My immediate job as the yard watcher was to wait for the older neighborhood kids to return from school, but this massive world traveler, lumbering towards my yard, towards me, was so much more important! Damn near gave the poor man heart failure by yelling "hey who are you?" Now that I think about it, I don't think he wanted to be seen nor did he see me, I remember running along the fence, through the rose trellis, standing on the steps and in rapid fire succession, questioning the weary traveler. As a four year old on a mission, this guy did not have a prayer!
As I opened the kitchen door, my new found friend in tow, words of questioning praise suddenly turned into a look of horror on my mother's face. "Mommy, this is my new friend, he says he is hungry, he says he will work for food but I told him you wouldn't mind 'cause you are a good cook, Daddy says so, and...............I never had a chance to finish! In a flash, my mother grabbed me, I think. The man never got food, never spoke a word but ran as fast as he could back towards the railroad tracks, my mother hollering making sure he was gone.......for good. As for me, the lesson learned "don't talk to strangers" made me realize, strangers are fascinating, just CAREFULLY pick and choose! For months, I would watch, hoping he would return and wave. Maybe he could become our friend and tell me all about riding the trains, maybe?
No comments:
Post a Comment