When I was a child, many decades ago, the Great Northern and the Northern Pacific played a great role in my childhood. We lived a scant block from their double-tracked main, shared by both railroads out of Northtown and up to St. Cloud.

Steam whistles and thundering freights working westbound through town in the early fifties helped to form a lifelong love of trains. And I lived among railroaders, neighbors and friends of neighbors. Good solid men who were by turns kind to and supportive of this young "train nut".

They allowed me to hang around the depot in the summers, and a telegrapher taught me railroad morse so by the end of the fifties, I could copy train orders as fast as he. Needless to say, I admired these men, and their professions.

So for me, it was a strange and wondrous experience today, as my youngest son marked up on the Extra Board, a fully qualified conductor. And when they called him to "dog catch" one of the subs he's qualified on, he grabbed his grip, and swung out the door with an enormous grin on his face. "See ya dad! I'm dog catching east today!"

I'm glad he couldn't see my blurry eyes, nor the lump in my throat as he ambled down the driveway to his car. He knew I'd write this, and he called over his shoulder "Don't tell 'em what sub or what railroad I work. It's better that way."

So proud of him, I am...and so glad to get a chance to see the trains through a railroader's eye. I never really knew how tough the job, nor how strange the schedules that these good folks endure. So...preservation occurs, I guess. Another generation of railroaders heaves their grips aboard, and whistles off. Amazing.

Every time he heads out the door, please remind him to keep his mind on railroading. It is a very unforgiving environment that can change a person's life forever, literally in seconds. Congratulations to you and him.

Don C.

Thank you Don, I will indeed. I have a friend who's an engineer on my son's railroad who ran with him while the kid was in training. I asked him about the kid, and he said "Smart, safe, a real pro".

Grins again.

No longer just a simple Boston bag with an extra thousand miler shirt and some underwear and socks. Today, it is one big bag with about 30-40 pounds of books, plus another smaller one for rain gear and an extra piece or two of winter clothing , plus another tote bag if you bring your own food, usually needed, as it is a long 12-15 hours going hungry before you arrive.

When I first started on the railroad, the book of rules and timetable were each about the isze of a checkbook. Today, they give you an entire library to carry, and when those volumes are revised, they often double in size. Most aspects of railroading are much easier today than the age of steam, but if the old timers had to carry all the books we have today, they'd probably quit.

Good luck to your boy. The railroad is one of the last good union jobs left in the US - only because it's pretty hard to send those jobs to China...

Not to mention: spare lantern batteries, a spare battery for your radio, a wall charger to use in the hotel and assorted other items. The kid found this neat compartmented thing at Fleet Farm that works beautifully, and he has it organized to a fare-thee-well.

You're certainly right about the job and China, I'm in the IT field and I should be so lucky.

I just wish it wasn't so hard to work for the railroad and admit that you either like the job or like railroads in general. There are many such people who work with me, and we all sort of share this secret society where we talk trains when nobody is around. The fact that I have to post under an assumed identity should give you a clue. The ridicule and scorn that those who came out of the closet and admitted they liked trains is unreal. For some reason many believe that "buffs" don't make good railroaders. "Buff" is a generic term that encompasses anyone who either likes trains, has model trains, ever took a picture of a train, knew too much about a particular locomotive, was proud of the fact they were a railroader etc. The strange part of this whole thing is that when these people retire they sit around at lodge meetings and talk about nothing but railroading, tough situations, favourite engines and the like.