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.