How refreshing to get a personal letter in my post office box instead of the piles of advertisements and bills. Our recycle bin virtually overflows with correspondence of fliers, "come-ons" and advertising gimmicks.
What a wonderful surprise it was to receive an invitation for a dinner get-together.
There was a tentative guest listing along with a RSVP, and it was nice to see that there would be a small group of mostly elderly friends.
An light, early-evening meal with just the right amount of folks was ideal so as to be able to visit with each one, and so that all would be included in the interesting tales that were sure to be told about our long gone-by era.
Stories of entertaining experiences were ongoing until our sides hurt from laughter. Our hostesses remarked that they had wondered what "games" to play.
By the time we all reminisced about the silly things we did when young and the pranks that we pulled, the time had flown by and it was time to say good night. There certainly was no need for "games."
"Back when," there was no TV or the entertaining, youthful gadgets of today.
We had to use our imaginations and ingenuity to sop up that kid-energy and ward off boredom.
When it comes to telling jokes or stories of yesteryear, I sometimes have a hard time putting all in proper sequence.
Have you ever told a fascinating tale and then blunder with the punch fine .... or even have someone else who is familiar with the scenario blurt out the ending? Sometimes I think of a helpful recorder hidden in my pocket and that way I can rehearse before I put the proverbial foot-in-mouth.
Back to the party: An experience was told by one of the oldsters.
I don't know if I should relate this, but it did get a good laugh, especially with all the gestures and comical antics.
But first there has to be a warning of not to try such a thing. It is dangerous and against the law.
I personally didn't live close to any railroad tracts, so my youthful escapades never encompassed anything like this. I could just imagine several devil-may-care boys watching the freight cars zip by, when to their delight, the freight train slowed to a crawl. Heavy equipment was tied down on flat cars and some of the box car's doors were wide open just inviting hitchhikers.
Evidently this was a common practice back then. When the trains slowed down, a free ride would be taken advantage of.
Our story-telling oldster, when just a kid, did exactly that. With friends in tow, he hollered, "Let's go ... grab that handle ... grab that ladder." They all scampered alongside the slow-inching freight. Yes, they all hopped on board. Whoop-ee!
It seemed like each boy wanted to out-do the other guy. So there they were on the top of the moving train, which had a few Earth-moving Caterpillars and other heavy equipment in transit.
"Rum-rum, rum-rum," one kid mimicked the Cat's engine as he sat at the controls. That was great, so they all took turns running an imaginary course on the giant crawlers.
Not to be outdone, one instigator grabbed what looked like a handle and yanked with all his might. "Hey ... lookie here ... what does this do?" As he yanked and turned the space between the cars lengthened.
The perpetrator was on the moving end and the rest of the his gang was slowing down. They gapped with their mouths open in utter amazement. They couldn't believe it. They were losing their buddy and losing half of the train.
"Bye, bye ... bye-bye," they all laughingly yelled as they waved to their buddy on the ascending train gaining speed. The other half of the freight slowed to a standstill.
Our story-teller paused, as we all wanted more, more: "Then what happened? What did you all do? What happened to the train ... and the guy you lost?"
The questions were ongoing as he raised his hand for silence _ he continued, "We jumped off and we ran ... we really ran. We got away fast. We guessed that the train had to come back and pick up the other half when they discovered that they were only half there. But we didn't hang around. We just got out of there fast."
As the end of the story unfolded we learned that the train had only traveled to the next village before the loss was found out and buddy-boy was able to get away. He hitch-hiked back home to reunite with the guys and relate his escape. I guess he was the hero of the day with his spectacular "daring-do."
Elaine W. Kniskern is a 75-year-old resident of Schenevus and a grandmother of five.
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