The Train Whistle's Message

When my sister and I were growing up we would often spend the night in town, at our Gram’s, whose house was several blocks from the Southern Pacific Railroad tracks. We lived in the country, so hearing a train’s drawn-out wail at night was not only unusual for us, it was sort of mysterious—even haunting. I liked hearing it, but it definitely triggered my young emotions.

I realize it may sound strange, but in some way the echo of that lone horn in the dark stirred in me a sense of the losses that were going to come with growing up—losses of people, comfort, and the security of the “known.” It also generated an excitement of being pulled into my future, like the train’s determined movement to wherever it was going. I couldn’t have explained it then, so I kept it to myself. I still can’t fully describe it, but I can definitely re-live the feelings.

Not many years ago I decided to share all of that with my sister, and as soon as I said, “in bed at Gram’s” and, “at night,” she blurted, “the train whistle!” She knew exactly what I was talking about because she had felt it too, but never said anything to anyone.

We can’t be the only ones. There must be others who, as children, heard—especially at night—that mournful, fearful and exciting sound of unavoidable movement. Surely they felt the unease of knowing they would eventually leave the present and, at the same time, sensed excitement for the unknown that lay ahead.