Bird of the Day

[whistles_n_bells]

Gardner:



I enjoyed your reminisces of those cold and snowy winternights and
watching those who were, by necessity, going about their duties.


I recall being one of those who "had to be out there."During my
adventures as a Continental Trailways bus driver, I remember a numberof
homes – in the Pennsylvania countryside - thatI would pass on my way
from New York to Pittsburgh. This would beduring the hours of darkness.
I often wondered what kind of a family lived in eachof those homes I
passed along the Pennsylvania Turnpike– and yes, I would see
silhouettesof youngsters peeking out the windows watching that big red &
white buscrunching the cold snow – and waving at the driver who
would acknowledge with acouple of flicks of the marker lamps or a flash
of the spotlight – when long-haulbuses had spotlights.


The thought often occurred to me that someday I would driveto these
locations while on vacation and ring their door bells and
introducemyself to them. Those homes looked so warm and cozy as I looked
forward tomiles and miles of unknown road conditions that lay ahead
(pre-cell phone,pre-CB radio days). I never did follow through on that
curiosity.


Your memories of the steam radiators sure spiked my memoriesof the cold
nights with everything covered in snow – but they were good memories
of different times.



Joe (Pappy) Hagan

St. George, UT

(Wannabe)


--- In WanderlodgeForum@yahoogroups.com, "Gardner Yeaw"
wrote:
>
> I disagree that it was past time to head south. This Bird of the
> week image captured a moment in time that reminds me of precious
> moments when I was very young. We lived in an old farmhouse on a
> country road that ran parallel to the highway, but carried mostly
> passenger vehicles and local delivery traffic. That was back in the
> day when the milkman, dry cleaner, local market and even the iceman
> used to deliver right to your doorstep.
>
> When it snowed at night I would get out of bed and watch the
> flakes fall to the ground illuminated only by the streetlight. There
> was a steam radiator under the window and I would throw a blanket
> over it so I didn't get burned. The stillness of the falling snow
> was mesmerizing. The silence was broken occasionally by the hiss
> from the valve on the steam radiator as the heat came up, and the
> loud banging of the old steam pipes as they expanded and contracted
> from the fresh hot steam and the cooler condensed water returning
> from the radiators. Then the silence would take over again. The
> warmth of the radiator and the cool breeze from the old leaky double
> hung window would refresh and comfort at the same time.
>
> Occasionally, piercing the silence, there would be the far away
> rhythmic sound of a tire chain slapping the fender well of an
> approaching car. The sound would grow and bring with it the dull
> rumble of the chains pounding the pavement. The car would pass and
> the sound would die away leaving the gently falling snowflakes to
> quietly regain my attention.
>
> Who would be out on a night like this? It may have been a doctor
> going to see a patient. Oh yes, they used to do that when I was a
> kid. The doctor would come into your bedroom, pull out a big
> hypodermic needle from his black bag and give you a healthy shot of
> penicillin, the latest cure all for everything that ailed you. It
> could have been a policeman heading for work, a fireman, an
> ambulance driver, or someone else who absolutely needed to perform a
> duty. It was a time before SUVs, 4-wheel drives and all weather
> radial tires. No one ventured out that didn't absolutely have to.
>
> This image of the Bird of the week has that quality. I can just
> imagine myself sitting inside with the heaters blowing warm air, a
> warm blanket wrapped around me (a Bluebird afghan that is), and a
> snifter of brandy in my hand. Peering out the window and feeling
> like a kid again.
>
> I also expect I would have a couple of snowmobiles in the trailer
> for the morning!
>
> Gardner
> 78FC33
>



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