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DedicationThis site is lovingly dedicated to my grandmother, Mrs. Sallie McMillan. She helped create my lifelong passion for trains. As a child, I spend many happy hours at her house in Grayburg, Texas, watching trains go by on the Missouri Pacific, between Beaumont and Houston.
She's gone now, but hardly a day goes by that I don't think of her. Sa-Sa, this is for you.
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Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950) |
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And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isn't a train goes by all day But I hear its whistle shrieking. All night there isn't a train goes by, Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming But I see its cinders red on the sky, And hear its engine steaming. My heart is warm with the friends I make, And better friends I'll not be knowing, Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take, No matter where it's going. |
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