Dad retired this fall after owning his own business for 47 years. He called a couple weeks before he closed the doors to see if I wanted any tools for around the house, drills and such. I didn't want any tools, but the only thing I kept thinking was that I wanted to take the photos you see above. Somebody needed to remember.
So here's how I choose to remember: A 2001 scene where lunch was midday break and so much more. And I could tell that Dad and his right-hand man Don Crano were happy to have me working for a couple months to liven the place up for a while.
Don and I were eating lunch today. That's not to say that we went someplace special but that we ate simultaneously in the same room. He reads the paper and eats his meal that comes in a microwaved box and I eat whatever is in my bag.
After a while Dad usually joins us. And the conversation swings one way or another. You can tell they have this down. Don’s been having conversations like this with Dad for 36 years. I suppose that one knows the others scope of knowledge enough to tailor what is said. The topic is whatever is of interest.
Generally it's something informative: local history, computer technology... whatever. Today Dad chimes up and says “Hey, I saw that PBS train show the other night.” Trains are an area of expertise for Don and his knowledge is deep as it is wide. He is a model railroader and has a great grasp on Akron history, which includes, of course, commerce by rail.
They immediately launch into a discussion that goes something like: “I didn't understand that the P1100 was so big. They said that the wheels are six and a half feet in diameter on those things.” “Yep, and the drive shafts were just as long. And they were configured this way because they needed a certain amount of clearance.” I love to hear them talk about things mechanical. They talk of principles that can be applied in a certain way that demystify the questions known and unknown in a plain way. Talking to them you believe that with a little engineering and know-how, you can improve upon anything.
But my ears didn't perk up until Dad started talking about his own railroad experiences. I've heard him talk of the fact that he laid railroad track before. But I never bothered to understand why, or how really.
He got the job because Mr. Beeching was an electrician for one of the railroads. Dad described himself as someone who was a bit small to be doing that kind of work. The other employees were foreigners and much larger in brawn and stature.
He laid the track from Akron to Kent and a stretch from Akron to Barberton. The Kent track included a stretch that went through a swamp. He could hardly pull a single railroad tie himself. As planned, a train had gone through previously and thrown the new ties off to the side for the crew. The same ties that along the Kent line that they had to now pull out of the swamp to lay.
Their stories always were littered with details like the fact that the rails that Dad laid were in 22-foot sections. That the rails needed to be drilled with three 7/8”-diameter holes on each end. There were six spots to drive railroad spikes on a tie but they only drove three. Dad's capacity to recall details after all these years was impressive.
In the end, they usually try to wow me. And sometimes I'm even wowed. Today it was that how Dad saw a train gets back on track with just a crew of 10 or so men. He tells the story just as amazed as when he saw it happen with Mr. Beeching one day. Giving credit where credit is due saying that he doesn't know if he could have figured out how to do that as quickly. It was obvious that Mr. Beeching took dad under his wing a bit and was displaying the spectacle that was his profession.
Don launched into five minutes about how its currently done. In a manner that would make you stand and sincerely say “No. Really?” again and again. Just shaking your head.
I read a John Gladden column last night. And if I can take some liberty, he reminded me that the building Dad owned and worked in has only whatever meaning we give it. So if right now it's a bit sad, it's only because he's not there and the equipment is gone.
It's good to remember all of this. I also think it's also good to move on. So I'll look forward to seeing Dad this weekend at home.
The words necessary to remember Anna Jacobson need to be larger than the scope of a single blog post. And each of us will remember in our own way. One of my favorite memories is captured in this photo. The expression on great grandma's face is made because she will not reveal which one of us -- Kurt or I -- she likes better. It wasn't in her nature to make such a decision -- but she sure did laugh as we each in turn tried to make our case week after week. Just before the photo, I had sat with her because she was momentarily alone in the bustle of a wedding reception. Kurt mistook the scene as me trying to make my case once again as the better one and jumped in. We all had a good laugh.
Posts
