I've wanted to write a diary using a Warren Zevon song title forever...He's one of my favorite song writers of all time. It was just a matter of when, and what song. "Send Lawyers, Guns and Money" would be an excellent title for a diary, but there's just not enough drama in my life to flesh the story out. "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" is brash, but a little morose. What with the riots in the UK, I thought about writing a diary entitled "Werewolves of London"...but who needs the HR's? "Bad Luck Streak in Dancing School" is a diary best left, perhaps, for Ron Reagan Jr.
But being as how it's August, and the weather here in the Pacific Northwest has been so mild this summer...I've been sleeping with my window open for weeks now...and there is a switching yard about 2 miles away from my house. During the daytime, it's just an eyesore as you drive past and over it on the street overpass. Ugly...industrial...
But at night...call me crazy...but at night, from 2 miles away...it slowly comes to life, out of sight, and I find the sounds that carry to my window while I'm in bed to be comforting. Pleasant. Nostalgic. Peaceful. They whisk me away to dreamland, and I am happy to have them.
The distance is, of course, crucial. If the tracks were next door it would be altogether something else. But they are not.
Portland is a port city. Their are lots of rail lines that come into this city and converge upon the port district. There are several switching yards. You can drive to the downtown area and if your destination is somewhere near the port district, you can get caught in a train delay that you didn't anticipate and which will leave you dropping F-Bombs until your veins explode. Especially if you are trying to make an appointment.
But what I've noticed since living here is that, as many train tracks as there are, you really don't see that many trains during the day. The Rail Companies, it seems, have managed to squeeze most of their freight activity into the night time hours. By about 11:00 PM, I start to hear the activity. The slow, very low rumble of trains moving. The short blasts on the horn...usually five at a time. I can tell it's the same guy most of the time, because he has a signature horn blow. Either that, or they all go to the same school.
My Grandfather worked his entire career for the B&O Railroad. He was a cook for the linemen. Made the best pancakes from scratch you ever ate, and of course we called them B&O pancakes. He retired with a railroad pension. I had an uncle who worked for the railroad as well. So maybe I have a soft spot for these sounds that others might fing intrusive. As a kid, I used to place pennies on the rail that went along my grandparents property when I knew the train was coming, and collect the flattened coins after they had passed.
These days...I just enjoy the distant sound from the switching yard as it comes to life at night. Between the cool breeze coming in from the window, and the low, resonant sound of the whistles...I sleep well. If I wake up in the middle of the night, those sounds put me right back to sleep. There's a rhythm to it, a cadence...and from a distance the harshness of it is muted and softened.
I love it. The only time it doesn't lull me to sleep is when I purposefully decide to focus upon it and listen to it for awhile...and allow my thoughts to wander where they will. It's strange, but living in the city, when I hear a train at night...I feel like I'm in the country. In the day...it's just another urban experience.
Does anyone else feel that way?