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Back Porch
29
in January 1953, an old work horse made for hauling freight. The L&N Railroad had offered this steam engine to the city of Mobile, but the offer was turned down, and Number 1506 was finally sold for scrap metal. In my photo collection of steam engines there is a photo of number 1506 as it looked years ago about to make a run.
There are lots of memories for me of these old steam engines. The Pan American, Piedmont, and the Crescent
Limited were steam trains that ran from New Orleans to Washington
D.C.
From time to time I ride a steam train, one that only goes a few miles and then returns. While I am riding on one of these short trips my memories go back, recalling the many steam trains I have ridden.
Many of the railroad tracks have been removed from the roadbeds along America’s railroads where long ago the steam engine made history,
hauling people West to settle new frontiers. War supplies and men used the steam engines of a bygone era. Now they are gone forever.
One can no longer hear the clicking of the rails, the bells ringing, or the steam hissing, but in my mind I can still hear the far off sound of a steam engine, blowing its whistle at railroad crossings as it pulls a heavy load toward the old, bustling station in Mobile or New Orleans.
-o-
The Spring of ‘66
by Maria Ercilla
I was five years old in the spring of ‘66 when my mother resurrected our back yard. Standing in the middle of the patio, hands on hips, she proclaimed,
We must bring life here.
These roses are too lonely.
And it was off to the nursery.
Down green rows tight as market aisles,
we went, loading cart after cart
with jasmine, lavender, red blossomed
bougainvillea,
cattails, four king palms,
and a giant Bird of Paradise.
Mama’s cheeks glowed camellia pink, her eyes wet-earth brown.
I rode home in this jungle, in Mama’s Volkswagen Bug smack in the middle of the back seat, king palms on either side, the Bird of Paradise, a passenger in the front seat leaning back to tickle my nose, with jasmine, lavender, cattails and bougainvillea packed tight all around me.
I fought poisonous plants, deadly bugs and wild beats.
Hyenas laughed at me from their hiding places. Zebras raced by too scared to stop and graze.
In the distance, an elephant sounded his call warning me of the Bengal tiger lurking in the shadows of the trees, his breath hot and fresh like newly cut grass.
I reached for my plastic sword.
It would have to do.
I heard a rustle and raised my weapoh.
A flash of white broke through the leaves -the tiger’s fangs, I was certain.
I waited for the worst only to find
Mama’s pretty teeth shining through her smile,
her sweet voice calling.
We’re home. Come on out.