Mishap on the Pennsy....

 

Welcome back to all my regulars...and a big hello for new readers

that may be joining for the first or second time. Hope you are all

getting some what back to some normalcy after this terrific year 

and a half we've experienced.  

This next tale was inspired by a friend I knew in the newspaper

business many years ago. The story is fictional, but if you are a

believer in luck, or bad luck, well, think this one will fit the bill.

It is not part of Tales Unleashed....this was a story published about

a year ago. 

‘Mishap on the Pennsy’     

 

     John Summer hadn’t traveled much by himself….living at 
home for the past fifteen years offered him little time to be
 adventurous.  His daily routine at the local newspaper office 
as a reporter kept him going to regular evening stops to gather, 
write and edit his stories for the next days’ 8:00 a.m. deadline.

   As John stood in the train station with his mother Martha…
he was most anxious….as much for her as for himself.

“Mom…do you really think this is a good idea? Traveling 
down to Scranton to see your sister Marge?”

“Oh I’ll be fine” she replied. “She’s not well you know…
and if I don’t make the trip today, well, every time the phone
 rings I worry about what news might be on the other end.”
 She continued with,  “You’re such a worry wart, I’ll be fine.”

     It was early in the day, just after eight, but Martha was always

the first to arrive for almost any event. “Mom…your train doesn’t

leave for another hour plus, let’s sit, get some coffee and relax

a bit.”  Martha closed her purse, shifted her hat slightly to the left

and responded, “Well, alright I guess…they wouldn’t dare leave

without me you know…my ticket number is 417 1313..and you know

that 13 is my lucky number!”

Giving a big chuckle John gently led her by the arm to the

coffee station, not far from her departing gate. For a woman

well into her seventies, Martha had kept her appearance up nicely

since her husband had passed many years ago.

As John and Martha enjoyed their morning coffee….John couldn’t

help but feeling very uncomfortable. “Mom…could you wait until

the weekend and then I could go down with you? I hate having you

on a train for two hours, alone, not knowing anyone.”

“Will you stop?” she said abruptly. “You’d think I was an

under-age child…or an invalid….I’ll be perfectly fine…and I won’t

talk to any strangers…unless of course they might be very

attractive older gentlemen and not wearing wedding rings.”

“Mother!” John quickly returned with, “What would dad say

if he heard you exclaim that?”

“He’d probably say go for it” which was accompanied by a

brisk and loud laugh that brought looks from two others

sitting close by.

As the pair enjoyed their morning coffee together, Johns’

feelings of uneasiness continued to nag him. He wrestled

with the newspaper in front of him, skimming quickly

through the sports section..and as always checking the

daily horoscopes.

Before reading his own for the day, he glanced at his

mothers’, she was a Gemini. John really didn’t believe in

all the mumbo-jumbo of astrology, but it was daily

entertainment…..just entertainment. Her horoscope

reading for this day said, ‘invest in oil today.’

John grinned and shook his head from left to right.

“What is it son?” his mother asked. “Oh nothing mom,

some things they put in papers every day to amuse you..

most of it is just a waste of ink.”

The time for Martha’s departure had arrived, and John walked

her to the gate, handed her the simple overnight bag

she had prepared. As he embraced her closely he said,

“Now give my best to Marge..and if you need anything..

just pick up the phone and call…you have the paper number

too right?”

“Love you son…talk to you in a few days” and with that

Martha took the three short steps up and into the railroad

coach.

 John returned to the office settling into the daily routine

 of the paper, making contacts on the phone for upcoming

stories he would be researching and writing. With almost

 fifteen years in, it just didn’t seem possible, but time has

a way of walking right by you.

It was well into the early afternoon when his boss walked into

his office and uttered, “John, you want to scoot down to the

Pennsy yard? Seems like there’s been an accident on the

southbound this morning heading into Pa….and there have been

fatalities.”

John’s quick deep breath and sudden jerk knocked over the

 stale coffee that sat near his note pad. Grabbing his hat

and jacket from the rack, John made a quick trip to the station

where just hours before had been his mothers’ departure point.

Several other members of the press, and some radio reporters

were all on hand… and had been shuffled into a meeting room

just twenty feet away from the main ticket windows.

As he and the others around him took seats, an elderly man

in his late seventies, looking very official, walked in and motioned

for everyone to be seated.

The silence in the room was deafening. The fifteen reporters,

photographers, broadcasters all straightened themselves with

bent ears for the news.

“At 1:13 p.m. this afternoon, the Pennsy train bound for Scranton

was T-boned by a Sinclair oil refinery truck which failed to

stop at a crossing near Groves Creek. I’m sorry to report that

there were thirteen casualties. We expect to have notification

to those families by nightfall. We’ll have more details to you

about the accident by ten p.m. tonight.”

And with that, the man at the podium adjusted his tie, did a

one eighty and left the room before any questions could be

brought.

John climbed into his station wagon and headed for the

newspaper offer…it was only a fifteen minute drive. His

boss, meeting him at the door started questioning him about

what he had discovered at the station.

John dropped his note book on his desk, looking up at his

boss and exclaiming, “I have to go home now…my mother…she

was on that Pennsy train today…and I know.. I know she

didn’t survive.”

Before his boss could reply with any comment at all, John

had left the building, heading home to receive the call that

he knew was coming.

His uneasiness that morning…her ticket number 1313…her

lucky number as she had reminded him. Then there was the

horoscope reading for her, ‘invest in oil today’… and the

accident itself at 1:13 p.m. Thirteen casualties.

Upon arriving at home, John hung up his jacket and put his

hat on the counter. Should he nap he thought? Maybe all

of this dizziness of the last few hours would just go away.

No, he wasn’t tired, he was just numb and limp. He knew the

 phone call would be coming before too long.

John knew that this was one story that he would not be

able to write for the paper.

John sat in his over-stuffed chair, put his feet up and flipped

on the television. He could see that there was a Yankees game

in progress and he turned up the volume as the announcer

said, “Can you believe it folks? We’re actually heading into

inning 13 here!”

John settled into his over- stuffed easy chair and waited.

The old AT&T rotary dial telephone was next to him…John

knew it would be ringing soon…bringing him the grim news

about today’s mishap on the Pennsy.