To the Railroaders:
We have a community and culture unlike any other. We live out on the rails in a strange brotherhood. We are cobbled from every background and together we are railroaders.
Many of us grew up together out here. We became men, women, parents, spouses; all while riding the rails and moving the freight. We miss our nights and weekends, holidays and family events. We sacrifice our sleep and comfort and health to provide for those we love and to keep our country supplied.
We spend days and weeks and months and years cramped up in tiny stinking boxes hurling through the darkness and fog and rain and snow. We often share more time time together than we do with anyone else.
We share experiences that no one from outside our brotherhood could ever understand. People hurl themselves and their vehicles in front of our trains accidentally or on purpose and we are there together dealing with the nightmares and the tragedy of the sights. We know no schedule and sleep in far flung cities more than we sleep in our own beds. We drop everything to run to the train yard and disappear down the tracks. We fight the brutal fatigue. We lose the friendships with people who will never understand the life.
In the decades we share together in our tiny boxes we see marriages made and broken, children born and raised. We see each other drunkenly jolly and sternly sober. Our families spend time together because they understand that mom or dad may or may not be there and that its just the way it goes.
We constantly make fun of each other. I’ve seen crowded rooms of men collectively roll their eyes when the one guy that we all know “just doesn’t get it” walks into our midst. We nickname ourselves and keep each other’s secrets. We take care of the guy who stayed out too late or who is sick