Poor Substitute for a Small Bird's Vocalizing

As a comic reader and fan-fiction writer, I naturally looked up one of my favorite scribes, Marjorie Liu, and discovered her blog and Twitter. This weekend (second to last in July 2010 should you be reading this years into the future from tonight) is the great big San Diego Comic Con -- of course, Ms. Liu is participating. So I followed a link from one of her tweets and discovered Stan "the man" Lee's Twitter.

But the only thing that crosses my mind is "Stan Lee is the Hugh Heffner of comics". Granted, my brain is super-fried after it's first week on the new job (there's an incredible amount of information to learn in conjunction with my new career and it's overwhelming at times. I've been almost vegetative upon finally trudging through the door well after dinner each night so that needs to be taken into consideration).
seriously, though. They both smile non-stop, with a genuinely big and sincere smile -- because they love what they do and it shows. Both are of the same generation, that awesome one mine can't even comprehend how to come close. And they're both insanely successful publishers (I won't go into the perks train of thought). Just sayin' -- even if I DID take an awfully long round about way to say one sentence!!!

My Last Train

It's official. With bittersweet feelings I swing off of the stirrup as the locomotive engineer eases the line of hopper cars to a smooth and gentle stop. My cooler swings from my hand much as the traditional conductor's lantern would as I trudge across the wide driveway to the time-clock. Upon climbing the stairs to the locker room, I hang up my hard hat and reflective safety vest for the very last time.

After ten and a half seasons of being a brakeman, I'm no longer a railroader. I've worked my last train. This crazy world we call home has forced my hand and necessitated a radical change of careers. It's for the best and it will benefit not just myself but many others as well. However I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sad to be walking away. Railroading is in my blood. I've said before the iron in my bloodstream is of the iron horse. Leaving railroading is like leaving a piece of myself behind.

There's a lot to look forward to in this new career also. For one, it's indoors. No more being pelted by rain, sliding around in the mud, or the cold, or as of late: the extreme Summertime heat and humidity. My eating habits will improve instead of forcing down a lackluster hard roll because I don't have time to eat. No more renegade particulate matter finding its way into my eyes, ears, nose, or mouth regardless of personal protective gear. There's other drawbacks I will no longer need to deal with also.

Perhaps some day in the far future I'll be swinging aboard that great fast freight, or the crack passenger limited for that glimmering ride along steel rails into the sunset.

A Lobster I Can Fight, A Fire I Cannot

"Get out of the building! There's a fire next door!" Greeted me upon answering the earth shattering pounding at my door at O Dark Thirty this morning.

"I've got to put something on," I sheepishly pleaded in my underwear and socks, with my ragged work shirt in my hand -- as it was the first scrap of clothing I grabbed jumping out of bed to answer said pounding -- though it never made it on my body.

The heavy knock upon the door in the middle of the night is never a good sign, and when one's eyes open and the walls are reflected emergency vehicle rotating lights parked right outside of one's window -- there's only so much time to discern what NEEDS to get done.

And so I grabbed the work shirt and flicked the hall light switch. When that failed to light, I flipped the stairway light and realized the electricity was cut for the first responders. Dash down the stairs to the first sentence of this entry.

"Okay but make it quick," the fireman allowed and made sure I was exiting the building before moving to the next unit.

"Fire next door" to me means the adjoining condo in my building. Fortunately for me, that wasn't the case. It was in fact, the neighboring building. Next concern, make sure the people I know from that building have made it out. They have.

Next concern, how will my own building fare in this disaster? Again fortunately the wind is carrying embers away from the buildings and over the parking lot. How big is the blaze? Sadly, when I looked, my suspicions were concerned and it's burning inside of two units. Then the roof collapses. Hope is beginning to flee.

The water lines become active and a ladder truck from the next town over arrives to assist the one on scene. Whatever the flames didn't get the water has. The eaves begin sagging and the crowd of evacuees is pushed back further from the blaze.

The conflagration is angry but the firefighters are aggressive and they beat the fire down until it's only spotty smoldering. A safety check to make sure the residences closest to the fire are habitable and everyone in the neighboring buildings are allowed to go back inside. There's no official preliminary cause yet and following the building inspector's examination, the structure may need to be razed.

What a way to start the morning. My own adrenaline finally abated seven hours later while at work (which I called in late for because I was blocked in by fire apparatus). The blaze was lead story on many broadcast stations, including the morning radio show I listen to on the local rock radio station. This rock station occasionally plays a sounder about a renegade crustacean which goes "Everybody get out of here there's a lobster loose" etc. etc. (it's a soundbite from somewhere).

Well, I can fight a lobster if I had to save my home, but if I had to fight a fire, the flames would win.

In Another Life

In another life I could have been a sailor.
Throwing off the ropes holding ship to dock.
Sailing the high seas to God knows where
Feeling the wind blow my hair wildly about my face
The salt air filling my nose like the comforting scent of hot biscuits
Hard work bulking my body and soul.

In another life I could have been a cook
At a roadside diner, Italian restaurant, hotel kitchen, fast food joint
Flinging meat, dunking products in the fryer, sloshing drinks
Stains on the apron, smells that never come out
Creating fine blends of tastes to please the pallette
From a multitude of ingredients


In another life I could have been a doctor.
Bringing to life little babies
Girls and boys new to the world
Postponing the loss of loved ones
Through medicines and life support
My vast and specialized knowledge doing the work of miracles.


In another life I could have been a long distance trucker.
Hauling goods ‘cross country.
Living the glamorous life like a gypsy
Hitting all of the hot spots for pleasure
Seeing the great USA every day
Beauty and savage hand in hand.


In another life I could have been an entertainer
Not just an actor in motion pictures
But a singer, dancer, narrator, mime
Multifaceted crowd engager
Reinventing myself to stay in the public’s thoughts
Through good or bad press


In another life I could have been a lumberjack!

Why Does it Always Have to be Spiders??!!

If I may steal from Indiana Jones and make it my own (his phobia is snakes). As written in the previous entry, the quarry where I work sees its share of nature in its wild element. I mentioned Jurassic sized bugs (how's that for an argument about Steven Spielberg's influence upon society? -- I digress) well, now it's time to relate a tale starring a much smaller sized insect. In fact, many dozens of smaller sized insects; allow me to explain:

Every morning my responsibility is to trudge along the railroad track leading out of the facility and open the property gate which stretches across the rail entrance. One early June morning I notice a very pregnant black furry looking spider hiding in the space between the upright bracket and the hinge bracket. Plenty of room for her to nestle into and go for two rides daily without getting smooshed. I dislike 98% of spider types but since this one appears to be leaving me alone, and since I'm trying to better myself as a person, I leave her alone too. I even tell her if she leaves me alone I'll return the favor.

Each morning I'm very careful to not get my hands anywhere near her, and her silken web is a visual reminder to keep my eyes open and pay extra attention. (Like that neon lime green reflective safety vest I wear on the job). A couple of weeks go by and all is well. One recent afternoon, closing up shop I notice she's changed her stance, her big bladder is gone and dozens of little tiny pollen sized black furry spiders are scurrying everywhere. I felt almost like a proud uncle...ALMOST. Well, I might have said "congratulations" I don't recall as I had other things on my mind that afternoon and my brain wasn't interpreting much at that time other than the important stuff -- which didn't include a brood of spiders running amok.

The next morning I swung open the gate, noticing the new momma spider wasn't where she normally was, but my hand had already grabbed for the pin which keeps the gate form swinging back shut. The brain told the hand to pull back and when it did I saw the momma spider drop from my glove to the ground and disappear.

"okay, don't panic" went through my thoughts, "she realized she messed up too, no harm no foul right?" and then I thought "Why'd you have to go and do that Charlotte?" in honor of the well known star of book and movie. I shook my head and carried on with my day, knowing I'd never see her again, having disappeared in the grass and weeds. But around lunchtime a new thought came to me. I was mulling over how respectful I was to her and how she unnerved me and it made me realize...what if she were saying thank you for my respect with a ladylike handshake before moving away to raise her clan?

So There I Was

So there I was, hopping across the rocky desert thirsty as hell praying for salvation. I'm not religious by any stretch of the imagination, but I got myself into quite the fix. I was getting worried, anxious as to whether I was ever gonna get back home. Oh what I wouldn't have given for an ice cold beer and air-conditioning!

I'd gone too far to just turn around and go back. Lordy but I thought I could make the trek, until I'd been moving along for a seeming eternity. I struggled to keep going, becoming desperate, but knowing keeping going was the only chance I had at survival. At my wits end I asked the Almighty for help. I was just about to offer my soul and welcome the sight of the Pearly Gates when this disconcerting deafening noise, worse than a Bull Frog convention, filled my ears to runneth over and then stopped.

Huge two footed creatures, world's tall, pounded the ground as they approached me. By all means was I scared!! Then one of them split off from the other, but the one, he kept coming. I had nowhere to go, there was no protection from the pending death in this dusty rocky desert, and the being bent and reached towards me. Oh why couldn't I have a massive coronary and deny the intended fate this being had planned for me? Why wasn't I worthy enough to master my own destiny?

Then the darndest thing happened. The being scooped me into its leathery hand and carried me away from that desolate floor. Golly but there was air! A cool breeze blew across my parched back as he moved himself along that barren outland. I'll never know if he sheltered me from the blazing sun out of kindness or because he planned something more sinister for me and didn't want me to escape, but either way the shade was welcome for that brief time.

All was not looking swell, though, because the being previously with him had joined up with him again. Man, I kept a wary eye on that one, but he seemed to not be too interested in me. They conversed in some bizarre language I didn't understand and we seemed to be headed back in the direction we had started from. Oh this was not good at all...

Then, the creatures stopped. The second one split off again as I was carried over to some greenery. I could see water from way up in that lofty perch in the giant's hand. Perhaps it was a miracle, I don't know because this toad never believed in them, but I was being set down in the soft moist stuff near the water and the giant walked away, allowing me my destiny after all.


**~**

And so that's how I imagined what must have been going through the mind of a toad that my co-worker plucked from the quarry floor today as we went about our daily routine of locking railroad cars.

Beauty in Nature

While the above photo is NOT from my work, it was photographed by me and exemplifies what I am privelidged to witness while toiling at work.

This post was inspired by "The Other Side of Hunting" on Thoughts from a Yodeling Goatherder.

I'm employed as a railroad brakeman in a stone quarry. Not exactly a place which instills visions of owls, turtles, deer, frogs, or ravens is it? At first I didn't think so either. When I began employment I was warned about the black snakes and copperheads and I've seen and shared the same space with them subsequent times, all thankfully with positive outcomes (I think the copperhead was more frightened than I was that day)!

Deer frequent our facility, as we border water company property there's lots of land for them to roam, and most of last year I was able to spot a doe and some others either lazily sunning themselves in the grass which borders the quarry, or hopping the berm to get away from the obtrusive pick-up truck and noisy train. Some of them are brazen though. My first encounter was just a shadow of a frightened deer which ran along the travelway next to our train between two front end loaders (one backing up and the other approaching) which were busy loading the empty rail cars.

One morning while cutting new flangeways in the mud between the rails, a turtle happened to try crossing our tracks. The locomotive couldn't stop in time, but the space between the ties was large enough for the turtle to duck and avoid becoming soup. The loco backed up and the engineer and I scooped the critter up and drove it across the street to the swamp where we let it go. (There's a photo in my collection of the turtle in the back of the pick-up. I'll have to go digging for it).

I almost forgot to mention the geese which graze on the quarry's front lawn for passers-by to see, and the swans that live in the swamp across the street.

One day at lunchtime, during a Winter shut-down for repair, we men were summoned up into the mill. An owl had made its nest near the top of one of the spires in the complex, and seemed to tolerate all of us gawking hardhatted workers. The day before start up a wildlife specialist was brought in to relocate the owl so our noisy production wouldn't disturb it or the family, but each Winter for three years the owl returned to that spot. It even made the company magazine one year.

There was the Summer the track department was installing a spur and one of the crew discovered what appears to be a tomato horn worm. It looked like a green caterpillar but with a spike on its rear, and it stabbed at anything it felt provoked by!!

Then there's the spiders and deadly flying insects. I haven't been fond of spiders since being bitten in my youth by a hairy brown arachnid (I had a lump on my neck from the bite for over ten years). So when I see the eight legged beasties scurrying about, I usually scurry the opposite way, especially if they're larger than my big toe.

Speaking of Jurassic sized bugs: how about dragon flies and gypsy moths with six inch wingspans? Yeah, we got 'em.

Anyways, 90% of these encounters generally bring a smile to my face, as I'm witnessing nature in the wild, all by myself. Nobody else experienced it, just me, and that tiny connection is a special thing (like the chipmunk my father would feed every morning by tossing a piece of hard roll from his front end loader while he parked for coffee break).

Of course, work isn't the only place I can find the beauty of nature in the raw. One afternoon while in college, I photographed a squirrel eating a brownie.