I live near train tracks. Not so close I can wave to the conductor from my window, but close enough that there is only a road and a house separating us. The tracks follow the Mississippi River and as you can imagine are a main north-south corridor. Watching some of the 50 something (no exaggeration) 100 plus car length trains go by every day you learn a lot. Shortly after 9/11 we watched trains filled with tanks and other military equipment go south…then the President declared war on Afghanistan and the puzzle was solved. After Hurricane Katrina we watched as trains filled with lumber traveled south to New Orleans.
On the rare occasion that a train sounds its horn I get really nervous. My instantly reactive thoughts include, “Oh God, no there’s a car racing across the tracks, or Oh God, someone’s on the tracks. I hope they get off”
In early March there was a brief article in the newspaper stating that a woman was hit by a train around 8:30 pm just a few blocks from my house. No name or further details were ever given. I had an eerie feeling that I knew the person, or at least had seen the person before. There are a few wandering souls I see from time to time and for some reason I thought it may have been one of them. I yearned for more information but none was ever printed. Last night as I heard the train sound it’s horn around 9:00/9:30 pm I began wondering once again about that incident. I vowed to look for more information again this morning.
First thing this morning I read the paper online (talk about an oxymoron). There, brightly lit on my computer screen was the headline Women killed by train in south La Crosse. Wow, how freaky is that I thought, here are the details I’ve longed for. I clicked on the article and read further as a lump grew in my throat. This was a different incident, also, a block or so away from my house. This time there was a few more details, she was 32 years old and witnesses were reported as stating there was a woman sitting on the tracks just prior to being struck. The train struck her at 7:08 pm last night.
I read about these events and I get a graphic image of a person being thrown like a potato sack or being blown to smithereens. Where do all the “pieces” go and oh, please, don’t let any come close enough to my house for me to see them.Prior to these two fatal accidents there were no similar incidences that I recall hearing in my 11½ years of living here.
I lived a block away from the tracks as a child and the vibrations would shake the bed, which having seen the "I Love Lucy" episode where the bed danced across the floor would make me giggle. I love the rumbling sound of the train and can actually hear the ones on Brice Prairie in our valley when conditions are right. It's sad that the engineers have to deal with the sight and memories of the animals and humans who are unable or unwilling to get away in time.
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