This memory was originally published in the 2002 Evergreen Newsletter.

"Up until the age of four, I lived on Deepdene Rd, the last house on the right as you head east, right next of the old Ma & Pa. My older brother, Kemp, and I regularly walked up the six-foot bank to the edge of the railroad tracks and waved to the conductor and brakeman - and they responded with a "toot-toot'' of the horn. At night, long before the train came, an eerie, increasingly bright light filled my bedroom as the train approached from behind Gilman School towards our house. Then came the roar of the train and the shaking of the house, and eventually - silence.

However, one memory in particular stands out.  Televisions of the 1950’s were loaded with "Westerns" such as The Lone Ranger, Sky King, Hop Along Cassidy, etc. Quite common in those programs were scenes of cowboys hopping the freight cars of trains to travel across the mid-western plains.  And those images were not lost on me.  One day I convinced my brother that we could "hop" the train and travel out "west" on the ole Ma & Pa. I was 3 ½ years old, my brother, Kemp was 5. Upon hearing the train in the distance, we ran up to the tracks and hid behind some bushes so the conductor would not see us. As the open freight cars approached, we counted to three, then jumped. At least, I jumped. Kemp, with the wisdom that comes only with age, held back while I soared through the air and slammed my chin against the side of the open boxcar.  It was all I could do to hold on after · almost knocking myself out.

Eventually, I pulled myself up into the boxcar - alone and traveling God knows where for the first time in my life. By the time I was able to look back, Kemp was nowhere in sight and I was headed for parts unknown. Kemp ran to the house and told my mother what I had done. I can only imagine her reaction - "Charlie did what?!" At any rate, my mother called my father, who worked downtown, and he contacted the railroad.

Meanwhile, nursing a chin split open from the impact with the train, I stared out in fear and wonder at the world flying by me outside. Where were the waving wheat fields, the cowboys, the Indians, the horses?  Finally, what seemed like an eternity to me , the train pulled into the small station near Howard St and North Ave.  The brakeman and others at the station ran towards me as I crawled out of the boxcar dressed in a cowboy suit with a holster and a plastic "pearl" handled six-gun strapped to my hip. I knew my name and phone number and they immediately called my mother to let her know I was okay. Shortly afterward my father arrived and retrieved me – not knowing whether to be angry or relieved (he was relieved). I was never so glad to see him and couldn't wait to get home.

Such was my up close and personal relationship with the Ma & Pa.  By the way, I wouldn't speak to Kemp for a week for not jumping with me. He always was the smart one"

Charlie Slaughter