Conversations With Glenn: Engineer Valentine There's just something shiny about him. In a way, it's like being drawn to shiny brass bells just like Tyler. Tyler, Dave's grandson aged nineteen months, now walking and exploring his surroundings on the station platform, still likes to reach out and touch the shiny brass bells on my necklace. Standing with my number one engineer, talking, or walking together, I feel like the toddler reaching out for the shiny bells. I can never quite describe him; it's been like that since the beginning. Whether standing on a platform in Lancaster or in Los Angeles, he appears to be small and fragile yet larger than life and strong. A railroad rock. But, not the Rock train. A couple of months back, Dave on the platform says "you found your engineer valentine." when talking to Glenn I told him he was my Christmas present in the year of our Lord 2009. I informed him of this because he was the answer to a year�s journey. Engineer valentine? Sure, it�s a mixture of information and amusement. Yeah. I'll take that. On Thursday February 13, somewhere between 5:30 and 7:00 pm, after work, perhaps during a meal, I text my bestest favorite engineer in the world. Happy valentines #1 engineer. I always text him that every year. Pearl and I hang out that night. I�m home early for some forgotten reason. Maybe it�s just because I�m spending more time at home cooking. It could be perhaps I was typing that night. Our evening passes serenely enough. I take my break at 9:00 to catch the Lancaster nightcap. Pearl and I sit at the dining table eating cream cheese and crackers, listening for 221�s blue flag. At the end of this particular run, so the cleaners can service it, a blue flag is placed on the train to let others know it is being worked on so it will not be moved. Drifting in and out of consciousness because I'm almost asleep, I hear an amazing sentence. Good night there Queen of Bells,� drifts to those of us who listen online or on the iPhone all the way from a siding at Sierra in beautiful downtown Lancaster I can't believe it. Did he just say what I think he said? Suddenly, I'm wide awake. I take my kitty and we go into the bedroom. Gently placing Pearl on my bed, I pick up my phone and text Did you say queen of bells?� Yes I did. Happy Valentine Queen of Bells is the engineer�s response. Ah, sweet, I respond, on cloud nine. �Have a good night that was nice. He has just made me the happiest star struck love sick, middle-aged teenage railfan in the world. I'm still star struck over the engineer. I've gone from afraid I would lose him to being greeted over a railroad radio frequency. There are some strange places where people know my name. I never ever thought I�d be greeted over the airwaves from a train operator with years of experience: one I admire with unrestrained fervor. I�ve never had an interest in anyone or anything remain so passionate for such a long period of time. This is not a bad thing by any means. I leave a message on Thursday that says that was really nice and awesome. We were sitting at the table eating cream cheese and crackers. Pearl was trying to eat all my cream cheese. I've never told him that I was afraid I would lose him. Isn't that just crazy? He can say anything he wants now. I'll take it. One of the things I say in an earlier text is that I�ll call him in a month. Today, February 16, is the day that I indulge in my guilty pleasure. But, remember there�s no guilt; only pleasure. Sunday February 16 dawns a pretty regular work day. Two days after Valentine�s Day, three days after the very awesome �Queen of Bells� greeting. I come home early again. My then room mates are gone. Three little kitties roam the house. Finding my Disney fanny pack, I slip my phone inside of it, plug in the headset and retire to the balcony. I�m going to enjoy this conversation. I�ve taken to carrying my iPhone in a fanny pack so I can have both hands free in case I do my favorite thing: pace the floor, turn on water, or do the dishes. It seems like whenever I�m talking to Glenn I�ve either just done dishes or am about to do them. Right now I�m sitting on the balcony with the cats looking out and the roommate�s ash tray and lighter on the table. I lose the roommates later, but for now, Oliver, Pearl and Brandy are inside hanging out together, being kitties. Glenn�s phone rings. I don�t feel quite so nervous calling him tonight. Maybe it�s because I�m not holding my phone. I�m just sitting here feeling its lightness. Around me, a cool breeze bespeaks the precursor to an early spring though two weeks later we get the biggest rainstorm of the year. On this day there is no thought of a storm, only the sweet anticipation of an upcoming conversation with my favorite engineer. But, now, there is a problem. In my headset comes the sound of static and a radio transmission. Earlier I have been listening to the Lancaster feed, close to the Lancaster nightcap. This beats the Lancaster nightcap by far. But, apparently the phone hasn�t completely disengaged the feed because now it�s here in my ear. �I�m driving,� says my favorite engineer gently, trying to explain the noise. �It�s not that,� I assure him. He always sounds so kind. �Is it ok to call you back?� Maybe he doesn�t want to talk to me? I think if he didn�t want to or couldn�t he wouldn�t answer his phone. But, I always have to ask. He always has the right to say no. He�s my friend. My friends have privileges like that: they can tell me no or where to go and mostly how to get there. �Yeah,� he says in his usual gentle fashion. Released from my favorite engineer�s driving adventure I fix my phone and call back. �Hello.� Today it�s all about hello. Not, what�s up or yeah. It�s just hello. Quiet Glenn just existing. �What happened was,� I explain, �I was listening to Lancaster and it didn�t completely disconnect from my phone.� He doesn�t say anything. He�s like that, sometimes. I sit here enjoying the breeze. The conversation rambles. I learn that he will pay his state taxes this year. I�m behind on mine, I say. But, they should get caught up this year. I have enough I can write off as self-employment expenses. I tell him, I�ll get to you, meaning the IRS. Just give me time. As conversation always does it rambles and somehow I end up telling him about the situation that occurred a few years ago with some friends who had trouble with their taxes. Apparently, her husband did not pay his taxes or employment workers compensation and ended up serving time. I don�t owe them that much. I won�t tell you what I think of her husband, I explain. It would be unprofessional, and it would. �And,� he says, �I have an eight hundred dollar water bill. It�s my fault,� he admits. �But when you�re on a fixed income you can�t have eight hundred dollar water bills.� I went to work to get off a fixed income, love, I think. What a turn of the tables. It�s all amatter of experience and perspective. Now, between somewhere and somewhere else our conversation switches briefly to the thing that unites us in that loose American fashion: the railroad, or at least the railroad museum. �I went to OERM,� he now tells me, settling in for his scenic drive to Lancaster. �They ran number 2.� Number 2 is one of the steam engines the Orange Empire Railroad Museum has been working on restoring over the past four or five years. John, our switch key collector is heavily involved with the museum. Oh? I wonder if John was there. John is our switch key guy, the one who ran the locomotive for Knots Berry Farm fifteen years and who has quite the collection of railroad keys. He is the station narrow gage expert. Everyone there has an expertise. Mine? Engineer stories. Engineer valentines, but only one, really. Later on, asking about the event, John indeed confirms that the museum did have a Steam Punk event, where people showed up in all forms of dress, having a costume contest, and sporting various types of weaponry, in one case. It was, by John�s account, a la Wild West. I just had to chuckle when John told me about this. Yeah, that sounds like a place my number one engineer might be. �I took my grandson,� he tells me now. �And, my son who was showing me on his phone that San Bernardino was having locomotives break down.� �I�m not surprised,� I say about the San Bernardino line. That�s usual par for the course, these days. �What? You weren�t running it?� I now say in reference to the steam engine. �Behind it,� Glenn explains now. �You just can't show up there and say you're ready to run it.� �I know,� I assure him. I do know because I�ve seen reference to training and also have come across references to people working on the engine. This is a specialized art; one that probably took more work than running a locomotive does now. The main stress in running an engine now�and this is my opinion�might be the people or the politics of the railroad, or, as some have suggested, braking the train. We talk about that, later. But, then, I�m sure I�ll look back at this in a few years and say something different. I�ll just keep asking my Engineer Valentine how to run his train. And, anyone who will answer the question is free to chime in, too. Someone was the big head of the museum but not no more, he tells me. I know who he's talking about, though his name escapes me now. The station faithful don't like him. We voted him out several years back along with Jeff the head I definitely distrusted almost from the get go. Quiet. Gentle. I wish I were sitting next to him, watching those small hands directing deadly power, or something like that. Maybe one hand? I�m sitting here, listening. I�ll take that, too. And, then, we talk about Bobby. He thinks Bobby is running out of Riverside now. I�m not sure, I say. He was running 608 that would be out of Ocean Side, and then the San Bernardino line. I�m not sure where he is now. I�ve lost track of most of my middle age teenage flings. But, not my engineer valentine. I can�t get over just how comfortable it feels just sitting here. There�s no crazy palpitation, though maybe there is and I don�t know it. I�ve just been persistent over four years. Maybe I�m starting to relax? �I�m in Riverside. There�s traffic,� he now explains in his friendly manner. He sounds so comfortable with me. He doesn�t respond to many texts but when he talks to me he�s friendly. We�ve been at this a long time, now, I suppose. I�m always struck by how he sounds on his job and how he sounds when having an everyday conversation. Yes, he�s different, but, if I hadn�t met him in a more informal manner I�d probably be intimidated, if you can imagine me being intimidated by anything. Now, sitting here, I�m not intimidated. I�m star struck or fascinated. But, tonight, I am coherent and now, I�m listening. �Let me call you back at the top of the hill?� �Ok,� I say meekly. There is no reason to get all worked up about traffic is there? He�ll call back. When you don�t sit at the station or you don�t exchange email, you�re busy or sleeping, or just doing whatever, the one piece of technology left to you is the phone. Twenty years ago, this conversation probably would have never happened in this manner. But, now, it happens on two cell phones, one person driving and one on a balcony in Anaheim. �I�ll go do the dishes,� I inform my engineer valentine. �I�ll wait for you.� I think in my own head I mean it more than one way. But, this works. �Alright,� he says now. He says it in that way he has when he�s on the radio signing out or he�s just being himself. He says it with that dropped last consonant adding a warm quality to his smoker�s voice, the one that yells over freights and comforts the air waves with whatever he says. If he�s animated or quiet, there is no other voice on the airwaves like his, and now he directs it to me. �Glenn, just so you know,� I text once, �three engineers calling the same signals. U R the most interesting.� And, he is. He calls back. The gentle chime rings and I pick up my phone, as much as one picks up a cell phone these days. It�s an old phrase leftover from a time when people really did pick up a phone. Perhaps, some still do. Let me put the headset on and be hands free, I say, explaining my lag. �Are the dishes done?� �Yeah. All done.� Oh, Oliver, I say, addressing my roommate�s cat, as I round a corner on my usual rounds of pacing, you just cut me off at the pass.� �My roommates are working out,� I say as I explain the cat�s behavior. �Only big thing is that I get up at 4:00 in the morning and sometimes that�s when they go to sleep. No problem till I have to sleep. I hate asking them to be quiet because I�d rather be up, too. I am a night person.� I don�t know now that twelve days later they�ll be gone for no explained reason. For now, this Segway�s easily to an entire conversation about my work schedule. �What time do you start?� �7:00 AM to 4:00.� PM. I take the bus to work and then I go shopping or eat after work and I get home around 9:00 or 10:00. And, I go to the train station.� �Wow,� he says. He said that once before when I explained that I sometimes keep sixteen hour days. �I know you said once you get up at 5:00. I get up at 4:00. I go to Starbucks everybody knows my name there.� �Cool,� he breathes quietly. It�s one of his stock phrases. I tell him my morning routine. I don�t think he�ll remember it but I�ll tell him again with pleasure. I just like him. Somehow I must say that by the time his train gets to L.A. in the afternoon I�m ready for a nap. And, that leads to the conversation about sleeping at Taylor. �It�s hard,� he says. �Because there�s always somebody who won�t shut up.� Oh. My poor friend. He�s probably used to it. And, when he gets to Lancaster, his motel is three minutes from the station. �You could walk it.� �You wouldn�t want to walk,� he pronounces quietly. Ok. It�s kind of cute, actually. Yeah. He�s my engineer valentine. The hiss of the phone, the drive to Lancaster, it punctuates the cool Sunday night, two people meeting later in life, enthralled by the railroad or employed by it. �Did you get my email about DL tickets?� At work on a particular day I�ve compiled special southern California pricing good for the time when they usually take mason to Disneyland for his birthday. I�ve thought he might find this useful. Oh I thought that was for last June. I deleted it. My daughter went through my email. �You just need a new computer.� �I want to get the one that you can take film with it.� That�s just about any of them, I think to myself. �The iPhone?� �No. Not a phone.� �iPad?� I�m still not sure which one he wanted. I�ll have to ask him again. In a world that is dominated by computers it�s nice to find someone who is not quite so connected. �How was the railroad show?� This is classic, animated Glenn. This is the Glenn who says �Thirty-nine years� when he thinks I ask him how long he�s been running trains. That was four years ago. �Well, I got there with 15 minutes to spare.� In a text earlier that week I�ve explained that I�m going to the Railroadiana show in Buena Park. This is the place where I got my railroad keys. This time I am determined to get two books by Phil Serpico, a man known around the station as a reputable, credible author. He lives; it turns out, in the Antelope Valley. �I was cooking all morning and I said well I told everyone I was going so I better get there. So, I hopped out of the cab and they said don't pay just go on in.� I�m having fun explaining to the number one engineer that I am running late. I don�t think I�ve ever felt this comfortable with him. Maybe it was those trips to Lancaster? �Kathy was waiting for me,� I continue to explain. �Dave sells time tables and they said they would look out for me. So, I got there and they showed me where the guy was and I bought the two books. I got the Tidewater book. I'll bring it and show you.� �I borrowed a book on the building down the Soledad Canyon from a conductor. But, I don't have time to look at it.� I don�t know why I say this. �if someone gives you a railroad book isn't that like giving you candy? You like candy don't you?� That Glenn sigh/laugh. It's so unintensional that it's captivating. �I got that book.� �I thought you got the Tidewater?:� he questions gently. �I got both books,� I answer sweetly. �Oh,� he inflects with surprise, �How much did you spend?� �$80.� �You did good,� he approves. �It's the same author,� I informed my number one engineer, who really is number one in the whole system. I don't think he knew that. It could have been another author for the Antelope Valley book but think it was the same one. I didn't ask him which conductor he borrowed the book from. This leads to a discussion of my book. �How long have you been working on that damn book?� he asks me. This leads to about five minutes of laughter. �Well, I�m just looking through the story for stuff. The only problem with that is it can go on forever.� �You�re editing, now.� That�s what I�m doing, yes. And, now, since that night, I instituted a time schedule for working on the book. I work on it between 3:00 and 5:30 pm when he asked me please not to text him. If my engineer can get his rest period in during those hours, I can work. It�s ok. �But,� I tell him now. �It�s not as interesting as the book that�s writing itself. �Yeah?� I�m talking about the journal entries I�ve written since tripping over trains in the dark. Those would include our conversations. And, then, somehow, we enter the world of railroad souvenirs. Maybe it�s because we were talking about the railroad show? It may have been because I mention the railroad lantern? I don�t know how we get here through our convoluted, friendly, sweet trail of subjects. �I have a Southern pacific lantern with a missing globe. I�ve had it since I was a kid. I�ll probably have to find it at one of those shows.� �What about the model shop in Pasadena?� I�m talking about the Whistle Stop railroad model shop. �I don't think they would carry anything like that.� Now, that there�s a lull, I bring up the question I always have for him. This is about the train thing when it�s not about him comforting me with all his vocal qualities. �Can I ask my train question?� �Fire away.� This week�s question has to do with the Soledad canyon and a curving stretch between Fullerton and San Diego. At first, when I used the words �braking the train�, he thought I meant the state of locomotive power. No, sweetie, I am not talking about bad power. I�m talking about those lovely curves. My question is about how to know when to brake the train on those curves. �Experience.� Why did I know he was going to say that? Then he explains. �My student was hitting that curve at sixty-five miles per hour.� He�s talking about the Soledad canyon, of course. Fifty-five is the speed limit. There wasn�t any danger of the train coming off the track or anything, but they do look at that. This is where I set my mark for the curve. I yelled at him.� Hmm. Glenn yelling. I can't imagine that. But, maybe. �So, tell me,� the conversation transitions easily. �How long have you been training students?� �About a year. 222, Todd, he has a student. They�re getting ready for when us boys retire.� �Ok. So, when are you retiring?� �Two and a half years.� �What are you going to do when you retire?� He has said several times that he doesn�t know what he will do when he retires. Why is he waiting two and a half years? �I�m holding out for the paris valley line.� �It�s opening in 2015?� �Spring,� he says. �They have to update the whistle boards and signals.� At crossings and other significant locations there is a board installed with an x on it and a sign that says Blow Whistle here. The x is the shape of the four horns mounted on top of the locomotive. �Two and a half years,� he says. �That makes me.� �Sixty-four and a half,� I finish for him. �Yeah.� And, I�m wrong. It makes him sixty-three and a half.� It is now that I say things that I never thought I�d say. He doesn�t know what he�s going to do when he retires. �Drive truck?� I ask. �I don�t know.� �I know what you�re going to do. I�m going to come and get you. I�m going to find you and you�re coming with me. If there�s anyone�s eyes I�ve ever wanted to see it would be yours,� I say bravely. And, I mean it. �You are priceless,� I tell him. I am smitten and I don�t know why. At this point, I just don�t care anymore. He knows it. He still talks to me. He is the bravest engineer, ever. He's my engineer valentine for sure. Then, it�s on to navigating in the rain and the Spaghetti Factory. About this time we lose the call. I call back. That silent hello. He�s driving. �What line should I use?� I�m talking about a random pick up line. I Don�t know what he hears but my engineer valentine says in that low inflected draw, devoid of animation or fireworks, you were talking about navigating in the rain. �You know, once I went to the train station in the rain and I was trying to navigate. Rain changes sound cues. And, then, the dispatcher gods send a freight. Well, I said, there's my freight, now I can navigate for sure. I wasn't in danger of going on the tracks or anything but that freight train sure made it easier.� I talked about the Spaghetti Factory. I remember once I was having a birthday party there. Curt wants you to come, I texted him years ago when I was first learning the art of texting. Now, I�ll find out if he�s ever been to one. �Have you been to the Spaghetti Factory before?� �Oh yeah. There's one in Riverside. My daughter-in-law that used to be her favorite place. She liked the Italian meatloaf. Now, something happened it's not her favorite but I don't remember what it was.� �Did something make her sick?� �I don't know. I don't think so.� What was going on with his daughter? I don�t remember what I asked now, or maybe it was his daughter-in-law? �She�s a chick,� he says, and then continues in his own unique way, �why did she just do that?� I am not a chick, Glenn, I tell him just for clarification. I�m not into babies. I�m into are you ok if someone isn�t feeling well or if there�s a problem. Tell me about it. I�m not into makeup. But, I always assume the man nows because if I assume he doesn�t, then he will know. He�s quiet. �Was that confusing?� I now ask. �Yeah,� he assures. Interpretation: Never assume the man doesn�t know you have a crush on him. Because, if you assume he doesn�t know, he�ll know. Just assume he knows. Assume he knows he�s your Engineer Valentine. I don�t know if that has anything to do with being a chick or not, but, the preceeding advice serves me well. He still keeps talking to me whether he knows or not. �Guess what?� He now says. Wonder if I can guess? �You�re in Lancaster?� �Yeah.� Reluctantly, and with a sense of impending sadness, time with this engineer draws to a close. �Yeah. I better get busy. We�ll do this again.� I hope there never comes a time when he doesn�t say that. �Ok.� I already miss him. Somehow our goodbyes are always quiet, not animated. I sit in my chair. Yes, I�m sitting for this one. The phone goes silent. It already seems like forever till the next conversation. But, as I write this, and time has elapsed since we talked on that February day, he has said �have a good weekend Queen of Bells� twice. I feel special when he says that. It�s because when I first came to the train station I wanted to meet the engineers. How did I know I was going to meet the best first? How did I know I was going to meet my Engineer Valentine. There's just something shiny about him. In a way, it's like being drawn to shiny brass bells just like Tyler. Tyler, Dave's grandson aged nineteen months, now walking and exploring his surroundings on the station platform, still likes to reach out and touch the shiny brass bells on my necklace. Standing with my number one engineer, talking, or walking together, I feel like the toddler reaching out for the shiny bells. I can never quite describe him; it's been like that since the beginning. Whether standing on a platform in Lancaster or in Los Angeles, he appears to be small and fragile yet larger than life and strong. A railroad rock. But, not the Rock train. A couple of months back, Dave on the platform says "you found your engineer valentine." when talking to Glenn I told him he was my Christmas present in the year of our Lord 2009. I informed him of this because he was the answer to a year�s journey. Engineer valentine? Sure, it�s a mixture of information and amusement. Yeah. I'll take that.
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