The 9:00 Train

The 9:00 Train

                                        By Collette

My parents loved to square dance and usually did every Saturday night. When my sister and I were older (ten and seven), they dropped us off at the local movie theater, and we watched whatever was showing one and a half times. Because there was a second showing at 9:00, I watched for what I missed the first time. My younger sister often was asleep when our parents arrived at 10:30 to take us home.

If the show was something my folks didn’t want us to see or when we were too young to go to the movies alone, we stayed with my grandparents. They lived outside the city limits and did not get the local newspaper delivered daily. They would wait for us to arrive, and then we went to town. The first stop was to get the paper at a local drug store. Next we parked anywhere on the main street of town. On Saturday night the stores were open late and many people were out and about down town. We sat in the car and watched people walk by on the sidewalk. Occasionally, someone would recognize our grandparents and stop to chat.

I remember not liking sitting in the back of the car watching people. (However, today I would say I am a people watcher.) We kept quiet because the good part of Saturday night involved what happened next. My grandparents would go to the local creamery (where farmers brought their milk to be sold), and we each got an ice cream cone, but I am not done with the excitement. We then went to the local station to watch the daily 9:00P.M. train arrive from Wichita. It was the highpoint of the evening.

I remember wanting to ride on a train so badly, but it didn’t happen until I was an adult. Of course my memory of that 9:00 train had it bigger and louder than it really was. Too bad my boys didn’t get to experience some of the simple activities we shared with our grandparents in the “good old days.”