My Dad and trains

Dad started collecting trains around age 7 and left quite a collection when he died shortly before age 70.  Mother hosted a train party today to show off the trains and let the neighborhood and church kiddos enjoy the layout. 

Warren and my dad's good friend, Kent, ran the trains. They are both patient and kind. Kent reminds me of my father in that sweet, shy, almost awkward kind of way. It's not surprising that they were friends. 

The kids got to load the milk jugs, help the logs unload off the train, and blow the train whistles. 

And this, this is a blossom off of the "mighty Tulip Poplar tree" which grows on the side of mom and dad's yard. I brought a little Tulip Poplar tree twig home in the fourth grade when I was studying Tennessee history. Dad put that little twig in a pot and we lugged it from house to house until we settled on Gateway Lane. It grew quickly and beautifully, showing its flame of yellow leaves in the fall to the orange-tinged blossoms of Spring. The week of Dad's accident and death I would go out at night and hug the tree, just to feel something solid, something that was just Dad and me. I hugged the mighty Tulip Poplar just this week when I missed my Daddy something terrible.  

I wish Dad could have been here today for the party to show off his collection and his legacy of commitment to a hobby to a great gathering of friends. Funny thing though, he would've hated the party! Too many people, too much noise, too many little hands reaching and wanting to touch the trains. I loved it for him though.