Unto Caesar

“And Jesus answering said unto them, render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's. And they marveled at him. “ Mark 12:17

Apparently, there was a tax rebellion going on at the time, and the inquisitors were hoping to trap Jesus and arrest him for tax evasion. But Jesus, always good at thinking on his feet, gave them an ambiguous answer. His words have been used as an excuse for civil disobedience of all kinds, and as a vague scriptural support for the separation of church and state.

An ad on the TV says one of this season’s “cherished traditions” is getting a good deal on a Hyundai auto. Cherished tradition? I have never known anyone who gave or received a car for Christmas, and would like to believe that it doesn’t happen at all. And for that matter, a great deal of the things we might buy someone for Christmas seem way over the top of what most of us can afford or should spend. I have always felt this way, and this year with greed and grasshopper short sightedness about to bring the economy down on our ears, it seems almost obscene to be enticing us to buy something we surely don’t need nor can we afford. Maybe the bank will give us another loan, or we can just put it on our credit card.

It would be so good if we could put the brakes on. Give a token of love and joy, eat and laugh together. I love the idea of Operation Heifer, and other goodly ways to spend for good. I have come close to just telling people that their present this year is a chicken for someone in Africa, but it sounds sort of sanctimonious, and if they buy you a real present, they probably expect something back, not high mindedness. It is difficult to change the course of traditions, and difficult to ignore the disappointment of those who want loot. Maybe if there was at least a homemade ornament for the tree as a token.

I have run away from my family Christmas back in Massachusetts. I miss the people, but the event itself was an exhausting production: way too many nerves about how presents given would be received, were they enough? And presents received required heartfelt enthusiasm, no matter how thoughtless the gift. The tree took all day to decorate, the meals took all day to cook, even if shared. Ate too much, drank too much, and then that hollow 8 year-old feeling: is that all there is?

In one of the Little House on the Prairie books, Pa goes to town just before Christmas, gets caught in a blizzard, and finally staggers in with, I think, an orange for each of the girls. I remember being astounded that an orange would be a big deal, and that those girls had only the smallest expectations of presents. Having Pa home safe was supposed to be the real present. As a probably 11 year-old, it struck me that it was sad that was all they got, but there was a lingering wistfulness about being content with an orange instead of visions of sugarplums and piles of presents.

Caesar would have us spend, that he might tax us. It was his decree that sent Joseph back to Bethlehem to be registered and taxed. The overcrowded Bethlehem mall had no parking and so Mary was stuck with a stable.

In this rather nerve racking season, I wish you all the peace and quiet you need, as much food and family as you think wise, and the hope that we can avoid rendering too much to Caesar in the coming year.

Trains Redux

We are back, all hooked up and ready to play with the trains. My job in the Display building has been taken over by a new set of workampers. She runs the museum and he does mechanical work, plus other odd jobs. This means I finally get to do what I really wanted, fixing stuff! I still have to help out in the museum; we took down and stored all the Halloween decorations.

First I cleaned and painted a wall and helped install a new ice machine in the lunchroom, then scraped rust and old paint off a vintage baggage cart. We then put it back together which involved muscles and tools, and I think I have earned my overalls.

The main restoration project is known as the Jim Crow car. This is an old (1885) wooden car with fancy moldings, red velvet seats, pressed, colored glass eyebrow windows. It is technically known as the R&S Combine car, R&S for the Mississippi rail line it served on, and combine because the original all passenger seating was altered to have a baggage section. The really big deal is that the passenger seating is segregated, with an area set aside for black people, and doors in between. Hence Jim Crow. It is a handsome artifact all by itself, and with the added history, it is even more interesting.

It has been the object of hard work for several years, and the outside has new paint. My job is to grind off the old paint and rust from the railings on the front and rear platforms, using a small grinder with a stiff wire brush. Lots of noise and dirt, whoopee !

Don and I are replacing the big rubber weather bumper on one car, well, reattaching it actually, and then there are the new O rings on the solenoids on the smaller diesel engine, “The Goat”.

Last week, we hired an expert to come and put our new wheels back on our fanciest car, known as 1509. This is a vintage Pullman bar and dining car, fully restored with a shiny stainless bar, comfy chairs and sofas, 8 dining tables and an epic kitchen. The centerpiece of the kitchen is a wood burning stove, and lots of stainless counters and cupboards all the way to the roof. Not much floor space, more than two cooks would have to be pretty friendly. I had never seen inside this snazzy car because it was up in the air on jacks awaiting new wheels.

The process sounds simple, until you realize that each wheel/axle set weighs 1500 lbs. Three of these wheel sets had to be removed from and replaced in the trucks ( that contain the brakes, springs etc). The trucks themselves weigh 10,000 lbs. We have a big gantry crane on tracks that picked these up. Now for the car: It is 83 feet long and weighs 85 tons !!!! Too much for the crane, so we use massive compressed air jacks, running the big diesel engine for the air pressure. Clearly, a project not to be undertaken lightly. Our imported expert does this all the time, the RR buffs in attendance were in awe. Now, a few more tests on the brakes and 1509 will ride the rails with Santa.

You can learn more here:

http://www.sdrm.org/roster/passenger/din-1509/index.html

and here for pictures http://www.psrm.org/events/rentals/private-cars/

The main push now is to get all the cars ready for the Polar Express trains. I have decorated and cleaned, the costumes are ready and pretty soon elves and cookies and cocoa will appear along with Santa and Mrs. Claus!

Usually, we go east to a place called Miller’s Creek where a lit up Santa’s Village is placed by the tracks, Santa and the Mrs. waving to the train. We get on board and visit as we ride back with very excited kids and grownups. This year we have to find a new place to put the “North Pole” as a trestle to the east is deemed unsafe.

The whole production takes a lot of time and work, it is our major source of funds.

Alas, the workamper couple has left, they decided the disorganization was not to their liking, plus for the lady, not much to do out here. This means I am back in the Museum all day Saturday and Sunday. Very boring, and I can’t do the fixit projects. I do enjoy showing the train stuff to the visitors, but playing in the car barn is WAY more fun.

Another couple is on their way, will be here right as we start the Polar Express. I hope they like it here.

Out the window, the tan grasses have matching cows grazing. They are supposed to be Charolais, but instead of the normal white they range from caramel to chocolate and blend in perfectly. Four coyotes crossed the field, only visible when they moved. There must have been some rain while we were gone, the sagebrush is tall and healthy and lots of birds are feasting on the seeds. We are still in shorts although the nights get down to the 40’s.

The smell of bruised sage, by wind, by rain, by touch has become a permanent motif. After my first trip west, 50 years ago, I made a little pillow of sage leaves that I crushed and buried my nose in when I felt sad. Now, I only have to step out the door.