Out behind the Virginia Science Museum in Richmond sits a steam locomotive.
Not a spectacular exhibit with placards and audio recordings, just a small engine with its cab and ladders boarded up to prevent climbing and entry, with signs admonishing people to keep off the structure.
The thick steel of its cylinder heads has rusted through in spots, many rivet heads on the boiler have rusted off, and the confusing complex of pipes, valves, unions and cleanout plugs surrounding the firebox raise the question of how something so intricate could actually run and stay running.
A small sign at the front tells of its specifications and history:
Its technical specifications were interesting to me (but of course, I'm a geek); it operated at a boiler pressure of 245 psi, developing 70,000 pounds of pulling force.
The really interesting part was its history; it hauled coal trains through West Virginia on the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad during 1943 and 1944.
That time and that place...
My mom lived in West Virginia from the late 1930s until 1945. She was in her early 30s then. She described West Virginia as having the best people - and the worst weather - on earth.
She also described shoveling coal into the house's basement furnace on days that never warmed up to zero.
She had 3 small children and an alcoholic, philandering, abusive husband.
For the United States, 1943 was the hardest year of World War 2. Our soldiers battled the Japanese on one island after another in the Pacific.
Our country didn't have enough copper to make pennies, so the 1943 pennies were made of steel.
How did the people of our nation survive this adversity?
They had a solid foundation of right and wrong, and a solemn regard for doing what was necessary.
They were tough people, driving tough engines, during tough times.
I have a genuine respect and admiration for their toughness.
Both my mom and the engine did their jobs and pulled their loads, despite the adversity.
May they rest - and rust - in peace.
Not a spectacular exhibit with placards and audio recordings, just a small engine with its cab and ladders boarded up to prevent climbing and entry, with signs admonishing people to keep off the structure.
The thick steel of its cylinder heads has rusted through in spots, many rivet heads on the boiler have rusted off, and the confusing complex of pipes, valves, unions and cleanout plugs surrounding the firebox raise the question of how something so intricate could actually run and stay running.
A small sign at the front tells of its specifications and history:
Its technical specifications were interesting to me (but of course, I'm a geek); it operated at a boiler pressure of 245 psi, developing 70,000 pounds of pulling force.
The really interesting part was its history; it hauled coal trains through West Virginia on the Chesapeake & Ohio Railroad during 1943 and 1944.
That time and that place...
My mom lived in West Virginia from the late 1930s until 1945. She was in her early 30s then. She described West Virginia as having the best people - and the worst weather - on earth.
She also described shoveling coal into the house's basement furnace on days that never warmed up to zero.
She had 3 small children and an alcoholic, philandering, abusive husband.
For the United States, 1943 was the hardest year of World War 2. Our soldiers battled the Japanese on one island after another in the Pacific.
Our country didn't have enough copper to make pennies, so the 1943 pennies were made of steel.
How did the people of our nation survive this adversity?
They had a solid foundation of right and wrong, and a solemn regard for doing what was necessary.
They were tough people, driving tough engines, during tough times.
I have a genuine respect and admiration for their toughness.
Both my mom and the engine did their jobs and pulled their loads, despite the adversity.
May they rest - and rust - in peace.
