Tuesday, December 17, 2019
Friday, December 13, 2019
The sides of the tracks: Lakewood, OH. 1958
Left alone, I have tended to drift into "liminal" spaces.
I attribute this to the geography, the location/locale in which I spent some truly formative years "growing up.
As a kid in Cleveland, OH, the New York, Chicago & St.Louis (NickelPlate) right-of-way ran close by, less than a quarter mile from our house (in a fancy neighborhood). It was the main line along the lake (Erie) between Cleveland & Chicago, so it was busy, many trains daily, both passenger and freight. It was parents' nightmare ("Where's the REST of me?" echoing in their heads).
And naturally, all the "tough" and outcast kids from all the neighborhood along the line tended congregated there, smoking cigarettes playing touchie-feelie, and throwing rocks from the roadbed at each other--because there would be exactly ZERO adult supervision, ever.
I spent a fair amount of time there.
One favorite pastime involved a foot-race versus an approaching train across a wooden, creosote-soaked, two-track trestle over the vile, reeking, polluted, cess-ridden municipal spillage called the Rocky River.
One's bravery (aka stupidity) was measured by the narrowness of the result.
Good times.
I attribute this to the geography, the location/locale in which I spent some truly formative years "growing up.
As a kid in Cleveland, OH, the New York, Chicago & St.Louis (NickelPlate) right-of-way ran close by, less than a quarter mile from our house (in a fancy neighborhood). It was the main line along the lake (Erie) between Cleveland & Chicago, so it was busy, many trains daily, both passenger and freight. It was parents' nightmare ("Where's the REST of me?" echoing in their heads).
And naturally, all the "tough" and outcast kids from all the neighborhood along the line tended congregated there, smoking cigarettes playing touchie-feelie, and throwing rocks from the roadbed at each other--because there would be exactly ZERO adult supervision, ever.
I spent a fair amount of time there.
One favorite pastime involved a foot-race versus an approaching train across a wooden, creosote-soaked, two-track trestle over the vile, reeking, polluted, cess-ridden municipal spillage called the Rocky River.
One's bravery (aka stupidity) was measured by the narrowness of the result.
Good times.
Monday, September 2, 2019
Sunday, August 25, 2019
Wall-paper!
Woody, born with coal-smoke in his first breath, LURVS him this image.
Ol' pal,Maria posted this with the accompanying description:
"Five years ago this week, I found this photo on a KOAT tv site and posted it... At the time I didn’t know the source. But (a good friend) did! She said, “That’s by Kymberley Garcia, my former high school student.” We have enjoyed Kymberly’s awesome train photos and it started with this one...🚂 ❤️
Rowe, NM"
Coming from Las Vegas to Lamy (the Santa Fe junction), the Southwest Chief (pictured here) makes over 70 speed changes in about 50 miles.br />
Movie Stills
"Into theWest," Part 4, 2005
"Comanche Moon," 2008
"Pirates of the White Sands," 2005
"Into the West," Part 3, 2005
"Far Side of Jericho," 2006
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