The uncertainty of the platform
August 29, 2005
By Cam Tait
The idea seemed to be pretty straightforward. Take my family to Stetler, Alberta - a nice two-hour drive southeast of Edmonton - board a train, and head another two hours south to a community called Big Valley for dinner. Then, get back on the steam train to Stetler and finally drive home to Edmonton.
The "news hook" would be to tell you how the train was held up by bandits on horseback. The train stops and the bad people - it wasn't all guys; there were some feminine features behind those handkerchiefs - make their way through the cars asking passengers for loose change. All the coins go to charitable organizations. Last week, the pot was split between the Stollery Children's Foundation in Edmonton and the Calgary Children's Hospital. I had every intention of writing a piece on the robbery, how much fun it was and how bandits can be (sshh!) charitable.
But in the column-writing business, sometimes the best laid plans end up on the back burner, or in the trashcan, or lost in cyberspace. As soon as I got to the station my idea was put on hold.
We had to be on "the platform" 30 minutes before the train left. It was there, on pieces of old wood, with a couple of hundred people, that a million thoughts passed through my mind about what it must have been like back when the train was the way to travel. People were friendly on the platform, chatting casually to one another. But there was also a sense of uncertainty: of the steam engine, of what car to board, and of the entire journey itself.
It was also interesting to note the differences between the platform and a waiting lounge in an airport terminal these days. There's air conditioning, wireless devices, and other technology that we can use at the drop of the hat to inform people where we are and what we're planning. I know for a fact many people on the platform last Saturday had cellphones, myself included. But they weren't used.
I couldn't help but imagine the hopes, the dreams, the relationships, and the disappointments that transpired on the platform. Over the years, hundreds of thousands of people had stood there, waiting to be seated in their car, headed toward a new home with - hopefully - new opportunities.
Then there's the memory many of us have, of Canadian soldiers leaving their families, young wives and young children, by train. Waving goodbye to husbands, fathers and brothers as they went off to war must have been an unbearable feeling for those left on the platform.
I'm sure we can all think of people we know who once stood on the platform, anticipating a new tomorrow, yet still trying to hold on to yesterday. They paved the way of the future for us in so many ways. And we owe them our gratitude.
The whistle sounded just before 2:30 p.m. Saturday, signalling that the locomotive was about to leave. We all took that giant step, the one from the platform to the train car. We shuffled through the aisles, looking for our assigned seats and then tried to get comfortable for the ride ahead. Within minutes, the sound of clanking steel filled the hot afternoon air. Slowly, the train made its way south down the track, swaying back and forth. We were heading on a new journey, with new experiences, new friends, and new opportunities. And unlike changing the theme and idea of an Internet column, there was no turning back once we left the platform.
Cam Tait is a sports reporter and columnist for the Edmonton Journal. He covered community investments and volunteers for 19 years. E-mail Cam at cam@charityvillage.com with thoughts, suggestions or ideas.
Opinions expressed by columnists are their own and do not necessarily reflect the views of CharityVillage.com®.
