Christmas Train

As I make plans to attend the spectacular (so I've heard) Holiday Train show at the Bronx Botanical Gardens, I can't help but think about the train my father built under our Christmas tree when I was a child. The week he spent building the thing was a nightmare, with the sawing down the top of the tree so it could fit in the center of the platform, him under the platform for hours on his back connecting all the electrical wiring and the laying down of the fake grass and fake dirt of the roads and lawns on top of the platform.

My father is an electrical engineer and when I recall the train now I realize it was like a work of art. My father built the platform, stapled down draft paper and mapped out a little town. He drew streets and separate lots, drilled holes for the wires and spent entire evenings building model houses, a school, a church and a town hall. After the street lights and trains were wired, he'd open big bags of grass and lay it down by hand, careful not to let the grass bleed into the dirt roads or onto the train tracks.

Then like magic, he flicked a switch and the houses lit up, traffic signals blinked, and the train came to life. We had two trains, a freight train and a small passenger train. We could make the trains switch tracks with the flick of a switch. Paper cut to look like a mountain surrounded the base of the Christmas tree.

Putting the train together was a lot of work and like I said, my father wasn't the happiest camper during this week. Though I loved the train, I quickly grew bored with it, especially when my friends didn't see all that impressed. When my parents split up and the train no longer was a part of our holiday tradition, I don't think I noticed much or cared.

I think about it now though, with great fondness. I admire my father's hard work and wish that I had the talent to create such a magical world for my own little daughter.

Comments

[Howard R]

Thanks for sharing that story- reminds of an old hymn, "Precious Memories" (which I was singing for a 90-something yr. old lady in a local nursing home yesterday). My dad, who died at 79 this June, was a pastor and I have many fond memories of time spent w. him visiting the sick and elderly, and also sharing jokes, political debates and talks about the Bible, either in person or by phone. May you and yours have a blessed and truly merry CHRISTmas! :-)

[sylvia]

what a beautiful memory of the Christmas train/tree when you were growing up, as well as of your father. i'm sure you and your daughter will enjoy the holiday train show.