Sunday, September 26, 2010

Coal Trains Sound Like Home

Coal miners work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 363 days of the year, as do the railroads that transport coal.  I am told the exceptions are Christmas and Easter.  50% of electricity in the US is generated by the mountains and the work of coal miners in the mountains.  That coal reaches power companies by train and truck.  Trains and coal, have a long-standing committed relationship.  And how could they not when they spend almost every hour of the year serving and tending to each other?


There are rivers of trains in Williamson.  They move straight through town carrying their treasure in and out, in and out, all day.  Coal trains come to your town wherever you are. Listen for that train whistle and I'll bet you can hear it off in the distance.  I've heard the whistle myself all over this country but I hadn't imagined those trains were transporting anything but people.  In cities trains equal human transportation. In Williamson trains equal coal in motion.


You can see the piles of coal riding out of town in the open air pretty much any hour of the day.  They don't cover coal cargo, so it can be seen resting in mounds or bouncing about. On the way out some pieces free themselves, jumping overboard, as if not quite ready to leave home.  You could harvest a good amount of coal just walking up and down the train tracks here and I'm told some people do when it comes time to stay warm in the hills.


From my house I can hear the crashing sound of the train cars being put together and taken apart, some part of every day.  The rhythm of the train cars moving becomes a lullaby and that whistle, so consistent and reliable it's oddly reassuring.  I've heard the whistle sing so many places I've slept that the sound of the train whistle translates to home.  When I wake to it in the night, it's as if it's singing softly, "every thing's alright. you're safe. you're home."   By the second whistle I am back to sleep as if I never woke.  I am making my transition to home in Williamson, quietly in my sleep, almost without notice.

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