Life Has A Way of Teaching Us

Whether we want to be taught or not.

My grandmother ran off with a railroad detective. She was nineteen and stunning. He was thirty four and, “The best looking man who ever came through Dodge City,” according to granny’s sister.

He was a hard drinking Irishman. She was the daughter of a cockney Englishman who had come from London to Fort Dodge to fight Indians.

The English soldier became wealthy merchant with a mansion a walk away from Boot Hill.

His beautiful young daughter eloped with the handsome Irishman in 1919. The tempestuous marriage failed and granny wound up a single young mother with three children in the depression.

She worked for Sante Fe Railroad her entire life. I loved to go to work with her at the train station when I was a young boy in the early 1960's.

I got robbed at the Union Station gift shop when I was seven because I failed to follow her rules. I was off on my own adventure. As I was crying and ranting and raving with a temper tantrum, she wrote and read me that note.

I have been in the same office for over thirty years. I’m moving. I was cleaning out my desk and found that note.

A coffee stained note at the back of a dusty drawer for decades. The things we save. The people who save us.

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