At 86, get-togethers with my Oma are more and more precious. After living for so many years thousands of miles from grandparents, I've been fortunate to be within 25 miles of Oma for the past 10 years. And while I haven't leveraged it to its maximum potential, we have shared some special times together. My greatest joy with Oma is listening more than talking, especially when she gets going on stories from the old days like she did Saturday night.
Most of Saturday night's stories centered around trains...
There was the time when one of my uncles, as a young lad, became sick to his stomach while on a train trip. While feeling bad and hopeless for her sick son, Oma shared that she was glad there was a Pennsylvania Railroad porter who took care of cleaning up the train car.
Or when she noted that the Lancaster stock yards, which according to her, were once the largest stock yards east of Chicago or the Mississippi, would be torn down, Oma recalled passing them on western-headed train trips. "We would usually be enjoying dinner in the dining car by the time we reached Lancaster."
She also complained about having to share the upper birth with her youngest daughter, who would sleep soundly on the trip while Oma slept but a few winks.
Oh, to live during the glamorous days of railroading! And to see my aunts and uncles in their childhood days :)
Maybe it's because so much of my immediate ancestry revolves around railroading, a particular interest of mine. Maybe it's because so many of my childhood years were spent separated from family. Maybe it's both of those things combined with an appreciation and respect for the earlier generations, for the examples they've led, the foundations they've laid and the wisdom that is packed within their minds just waiting to be tapped. Whatever it is, I relish the opportunities to listen to the stories of yesteryear.
