Idaho Notes April 22: I have been mulling lately. It is not just the “shelter at home” situation, but that activity leads to plenty of time to think! And limited mobility can lessen the external stimuli that generate these notes. For example, on the other side of Yellowstone Highway (which for some odd reason does not lead to nearby Yellowstone Park) there is a railroad track. I believe this track goes up to Butte Montana. What I know is that there are a lot of train whistles (really now, is that what we still call them?). There are. freight. trains throughout the day and night going north and south. And, you know what? The sounds of the train whistles and rattle of the cars brings up lots of memories. When I used to spend nights at my Grandparents’ house in Dyersburg, Tennessee, throughout the night I would hear the sounds of trains. They were not just clicking by on the nearby tracks. Most frequently the sounds came from the railroad yard several miles away. I would hear the engine pull under the water tank and sit quietly while the steam engine’s boiler was refilled with water. Or I might hear the coal being replenished in the coal car. Then would come the sounds of the cars as they banged into each other when motion commenced. From my bed at 1001 Troy Avenue, I would wonder where the train was headed and if it might be carrying passengers (Dyersburg was on the line from Chicago to New Orleans). I found a lot of comfort in those sounds. Later, in Memphis there was a train nearby, and I would also hear the whistle and the clicketey-clack as it rolled west. In Atlanta we had a train track in our backyard that ran from New Orleans to Washington DC. It didn’t make a lot of noise since the station was right at the end of our street on Peachtree at I-85 near downtown. As much as I loved hearing the trains, I was totally distracted when we would go to the train station to pick up a friend or relative. I loved putting pennies of the track and then dashing over once the train had passed to see how smashed up they were. And I loved the way the steam hissed around the engine’s wheels as it began to move off. Then, trains had a real bell, and it would be dinging away merrily. Dreams of far away places always came along with the “iron horse”. When my brother and I got older our mom would take us down to theMemphis. train station and put us on for a trip to Dyersburg. That was so much more exciting than riding the Greyhound Bus which was our more typical way of getting there. It is a bit odd living with trains back in my life…..they may not take me from here to there any more but they do bring back lots of memories. One final thing. As I am mulling, I wonder a lot about calling myself a writer. I begin to let go of my identity as a psychologist so now being a writer has some appeal. Over the years I have collected the kinds of things families pas along about ancestors. So, I am wondering about a book about three of my grandfathers, spanning the time period of 1742 to 1955. I wonder if anyone would ever be interested. in reading something like that?