An old wooden crate whose paint had long faded

Sat in the musty crowded basement

Filled with miniature trains collected over a lifetime

Long untouched and neglected

But it wasn’t always so

Some of my fondest Christmas memories include those trains

I remember Dad bringing in the wooden platform that had a tree stand mounted in the middle of it

The Christmas tree would be brought in and put in the stand

Suddenly filling the house with the scent of pine

I can still see Dad sitting on the floor next to the tree

Putting together the train tracks that circled the tree

Forming a large circle around the outer edges of the wooden platform

Usually there were two tracks – an inner and an outer one

So we could run two trains at the same time

Dad would hook up the transformers

And carefully place an engine on the track

As the dial of the transformer was turned up to the first notch

I hear the low buzz of electricity surging into the tracks

Electrifying the little black engine

I can still smell the hot electrical transformer

A smell both acrid and exciting at the same time

The train would slowly come to life and begin to inch along

Then Dad would turn the transformer dial another click and the engine would start to chug around the track

I remember the thrill of the train moving those first few inches

The excitement that we had put everything together and it worked

My brothers and I would help Dad set up the village under the tree

The Plasticville houses and parks

The trees, ponds, bridges and tiny little cars and trucks

Carefully placing the firetruck in front of the fire station

And the ice skater on the little pond

There were trestles that straddled the track

It felt like a story book village that we would make come to life

And then we got to add the train cars and cabooses to form a long train

Tankers and coal cars and passenger cars

Watching the engines pulling the cars behind them

Disappearing behind the Christmas tree and emerging on the other side

My joy was complete when everything was set up and I got to be the engineer

Controlling the train going round and round the decorated Christmas tree

Eventually my brothers and I grew up and moved out

And Dad got older

For several years Dad put some of the trains up for his grandsons

Each year there were a few less train cars and a few less village houses

But eventually it got to be too much for him to do even that

There were no more trains at Christmas time

The trains were relegated to the large wooden crate in the damp basement

Some broken and some just dirty and dusty

Where they sat dormant for years

Not exactly forgotten

More like a ghost from Christmases past

A distant joyful memory flickering in the subconscious

Several months after my Dad passed away

I was wandering around a hobby shop when I came around an aisle

And came face to face with a train display

I was instantly transported back to when I was a child

Helping my Dad with his trains

I could distinctly smell the hot acrid transformer

Even though the trains in the store were asleep on the track and not powered on

My eyes filled with tears thinking about my Dad and his trains

When I got home, I immediately called my Mother and asked her if she still had his trains

She said yes and I asked if I could have them

Again the answer was yes

The trains were still resting in the old wooden crate in the basement

The box was much worse for wear and had been wet off and on over the years

I didn’t trust the bottom not to fall out with all the weight of the trains, tracks, transformers and village

I took three large gray Rubbermaid totes and filled them all

Placing the totes in a storage unit for more than a year

Last week I decided to sort through the totes

Lovingly removing the engines and transformers

Wondering what I would do with all the track that has a light coating of rust on it

I drove to Jeannette to visit the Train Shop

The little shop that has been there for fifty years

The little shop that Dad probably frequented many times

The owner carefully tested each of the engines

Feeding the little red engine power first

And I heard the amazing sound of the wheels spinning

Probably searching for their track

Two of the four engines work and one can easily be repaired

A few of the transformers work but are old and may not be safe any more

But I can buy a new one without guilt

I just hope it still smells the same as the old transformers did

One of my favorite little black engines was left for repairs

With the promise of being brought back to life in a few short weeks

As I left the Train Store and drove through Jeannette

I first passed the gray duplex where my Grandmother lived for a few years

Which always makes me a little sad because I miss her so much

Fifty years have gone by and I still feel the loss deep in my heart

A few minutes later I passed the cemetery where my Grandma and my Dad are buried

Alongside my Grandfather and Great Grandparents who died before I was born

A knot formed in my throat

And a memory came to me in that instant

Not long before my Dad passed away

I remember him telling me about the night his father died

Dad was only seventeen at the time

He told me that he had visited his Dad in the hospital

And he sat there and talked to his Dad for hours

Then Dad and his best friend Paulie drove around until it was late

Normal teenage boys cruising in their car in the 1950s

And the next morning when he woke up he found out his Dad was gone

The lump in my throat turned into tears streaming down my face

Missing my Dad and my Grandma and the rest of the family I never got to meet

My work on the trains has just begun

For me, It is a labor of love

I can’t wait to set up the trains and the village again

And watch the train engine merrily chug around the track

And when friends see them

I will proudly declare “These were my Dad’s trains”