From the Cab: All I want for Christmas …

My worst nightmare-come-true as a railroader was waking up Christmas morning in a lonely hotel room, hundreds of miles away from home. Restaurants were usually shuttered and even the vending machines at the station were bare. I once held the northbound Palmetto at Florence, S.C., refusing to move the train until I could at least grab a cup of coffee and a sweet roll from the lounge car, on which to nibble once aboard my locomotive. My customary call home before reporting for duty was filled with the sounds of my family excitedly opening presents, only making things worse. “Wish you were here.” So did I. 

Every signal I sped past was one less I needed to acknowledge before reaching Richmond, where my own family awaited me, with the remains of the day — a couple of unopened packages and a plate of re-heated leftovers — not the mountain of Christmas presents, and the sumptuous feast that everyone else had enjoyed. 

Because senior employees are accorded their preference of vacations and time off, when you’ve accrued enough seniority to spend Christmas at home, your own children are grown, and you end up being the loving grandfather, witnessing once again what you missed. Thank goodness for photographs.

I’d pull into my driveway at sunset, if I was lucky, just in time to wearily wish my neighbors “Merry Christmas,” as they heaped discarded wrapping paper, cardboard boxes, and colorful ribbons on the curb for garbage collection in the morning. Their Christmas was over for another year before mine had even begun.

For me, and many other railroaders working on the holidays, the joy of Christmas was being a part of everyone else’s — helping them to get “over the river and through the woods.” There was a saving grace in witnessing the joyous smiles, the warm embraces, and the tender kisses at station stops, between loved ones.

Some of us went even further, helping travelers momentarily overlook the hustle and bustle of the standing-room-only trains, and cramped waiting rooms, like my friend, Timmy O’Neal, a Washington Terminal locomotive engineer, who kept his beard year-round and seasonally dressed as Santa. Imagine, if you will, seeing the jolly ol Elf himself, at the throttle of Amtrak Alco RS3m No. 104, trundling down the tracks at Union Station, shouting out, “Santa is watching you,” to the delight of small children as well as youngsters at heart. The thousands of candy canes Santa Timmy gave out, many times brought gleams to the eyes of excited boys and girls.  

Other kids sat on Santa’s lap in department stores. My son, Ryan, had his audience with Saint Nick in the cab of a switch engine. I operated the Toys4Tots special, much to the delight of the local media outlets. 

Timmy passed away earlier this year, and I’m retired, but rest assured, the spirit of the holiday season lives on with America’s railroaders. It’s especially dear to us, because too often, it’s the only Christmas we have.

Check out Doug Riddell’s previous column, “From the Cab: You can teach an old Doug new tricks.”