April 6, 2017
Working through the night, here, in the
smallest moments of midnight, droplets of a warming spring rain bless
the new day as a grain-laden Eastern Washington Gateway Railroad
eastbound necessarily, but ever so momentarily disturbes the peace as
Engineer Bruce Butler nimbly rumbles his train through Creston,
Washington where some 200 sleeping souls reside, giving notice of the
train’s arrival and just as quickly, its departure at each of the
don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-it town’s six proximate grade
crossings though there isn’t a living soul waiting to cross any of
them save his conductor whose constant vigilance ensures the train
moves over mile-upon-mile of right-of-way safely and efficiently
conducting repeated trackside inspections as the train moves from
town-to-town while spotting empties at or picking up loaded covered
hoppers from under the myriad grain spouts along the line whether
rainy morning, mid summer’s day heat, or dead of night. Such is the
business of a railroader: foregoing, even sacrificing any normalcy to
his private life.
