Kontan’s Place

I’ve mentioned several times before that my Gran was sick for my entire life. Raising me was a chore but it was one she took on, and dedicated herself to. I contribute who I am today to the influence and encouragement of Gran.

To keep me busy Gran would play the piano for me, read my favorite Mother Goose rhymes/stories, or tell stories of her growing up years. My favorite was the railroad story.

As a young girl Gran and her siblings would have to walk to and from school. As most children who walk here and there do, they had rules and a route to follow. One day Gran was walking without her brothers and sisters. I don’t remember why, but this was the day she was going to see what it was like…she wanted to walk the RR trestle.

Apparently there was a walking bridge and a railroad bridge over the waterway. Since this was in Gorgas, AL I can only imagine the area was a portion of the Warrior River.

Walking alone Gran decided to do it. She made sure no one was watching. Her instructions were clear, don’t EVER walk the trestle. It is just not safe. So true, but being a headstrong young lady she wasn’t going to be held back by something so trivial as the rules. Her excitement building, she starts across. A few steps in she realizes the magnitude of her decision. Where her confidence had been strong she found herself rethinking her decision and taking each step with great deliberation. As she reached the half-way mark she froze.

I’m sure at this point she is seriously rethinking her decision to walk across the train bridge. It was in strict violation of her Daddy’s rules. She is probably thinking about how high the bridge is and how ridiculous it was for her to start this little adventure. She may even consider how wise the decision was considering her options if a train was to come. It has been so long since I heard this story that I can only imagine the terror I would have felt if I froze in the middle of a train trestle.

It wasn’t long before Gran was overcome by a greater fear. No, a train wasn’t coming down the track. It was much worse than that. As she stood there, frozen on the tracks in the middle of the train trestle, she looked up to see her Daddy driving slowly across the car bridge…staring straight into her terrified eyes. Forgetting the terror of crossing the bridge she proceeded to run to the other side, and her waiting Daddy.

No, he didn’t yell. In fact, I believe it had to have been worse than yelling because he didn’t say a word as a young Gran climbed into the car. As they drove home I imagine the silence was deafening. Finally, he says to her that he thought she had been told not to walk the trestle. The “yes sir” that followed had to be the hardest two words for her to utter. I don’t remember what the punishment was, or even if there was one, but I do remember Gran saying she never walked the trestle again.

As I recall the many stories Gran used to tell I imagine what she must have been like as a child. It is very scary because I now see where comes the free spirit that our youngest seems to exhibit. She is very sneaky and does not fear danger. For her, rules are merely suggestions to be tested for validity. If she grows up to be the woman Gran was, I will be proud.