Good-bye, Meagan

Today’s the day. This is the day I’ve been dreading for five months. This is Meagan’s last day here with me. My home will no longer be her home, Ms J. And I feel so sad.

She told me her plan from the beginning. She was going to stay here until school was finished in June, and then go to live with RJ in Georgetown. That was her plan. I knew she’d go. But I always hoped maybe she’d change her mind. I always hoped maybe she’d grow to like it here with me. Maybe she’d find some friends here, or a job, and want to stay. But that hasn’t happened, Ms J.

Soon, I’ll drive Meagan and her meagre possessions to Georgetown where she’ll wave good-bye for the last time and skip up the concrete steps to RJ’s Spartan home. She won’t call me on Sunday as she has every Sunday for five months to arrange a pick-up time. She won’t wake up here on Monday morning. We won’t have breakfast together.

Her bedroom here is tidy. Tidy and empty. And the hole in my heart is slowly filling with hopes and prayers for my daughter.

Keep her safe, Lord. Remind her how much her daddy loves her. And how he misses her. And how very proud he is of her.

Bye, Scout. Thanks for making me so proud. Thanks for doing so well in school. Thanks for being a good daughter. Every day with you was good. I’ll remember every hug, every smile, and every teardrop. And if you ever want to come home, my door will be open for you. My arms and my heart and my door will always be open for you. And you’ll always have a home here with me.

I love you.

x

Happy? Not Quite

Well I got what I asked for, didn't I? I got a new job. I'm an employee of VIA Rail Canada now. Or almost. I'm a locomotive engineer trainee at VIA, and I suppose that means I'm an employee there. Last Thursday was my last CN payday. I'd rather expected Life here to be much better than before, less stressful in a number of key areas. I was wrong. This move to VIA has been a real eye-opener for me. Well, it would be an eye-opener, Ms J, if I could open my bloody eyes. I'm ill. Yes, what a lovely way to begin a new job. I've got a nasty cold that seems to have made it's home in my lungs, and as if that weren't enough, conjunctivitis. Bi-lateral conjunctivitis. Pink eye. In both eyes.



Click on the pic, but be prepared. It ain't pretty. It's very contagious, Ms J. So says the doctor. It's not terribly painful, but it is uncomfortable. And embarrassing. And neither welcome nor well-timed. I've made only one trip so far at VIA - a marathon journey to Ottawa and back. Eighteen hours round trip with only four hours rest in between. I was completely knackered on Thursday and due out again on Friday. I phoned my boss.

"I'm really sorry," I said, "but I won't be able to work tomorrow. I've got pink eye."

Thankfully, he's a very understanding man.

"Take the weekend off, Dale," he told me. "Rest and get better. Hopefully, you'll be able to work on Monday."

I'm scheduled to spend an eight hour shift in the train yard here in Mimico where I'll learn the layout of the tracks and how to handle the various types of equipment. I haven't learned much so far, Ms Journal, but I have learned a couple of important things:

My world at GO Transit was small - maybe 150 miles of track in total. But here at VIA, I must become familiar with more than 1000 miles of track. There are new operating procedures, new engines, new faces, new places. It's a whole new world here, Ms J. And I feel like a little fish in a big pond. It's overwhelming, frankly. I'm used to working four hours and then coming home for a nap. There's none of that here. Trips are often eight hours followed by a period of time in a strange bed in a lonely hotel room.

Now don't misunderstand me. I know I've made the right move by escaping the madness at CN, but at the moment, and over the next few months, I'll have masses of facts and information to study, learn and remember. This is REALLY hard!

The other thing I've learned is how busy it is in the cab of a VIA locomotive. At GO, things moved at a slower, more relaxed pace. It was not unlike a subway train, or perhaps London's famous Tube - continually stopping and starting. Here at VIA, the speeds are higher (100 mph) and there's a constant stream of information being shared between the two enginemen. A couple of times, on the way to Ottawa, the lads called a halt to our casual conversation to return to the business at hand.

"Let's focus here," they'd say. "Let's keep our minds on our jobs."

These men are a whole new breed of railroader, Ms J. Very competent. Very knowledgeable. Very dedicated. Always putting the safe operation of the train before anything else.

I'll spend the next four months training, but I'll bet I don't feel comfortable at work again for a year.

***

What You Wish For

"I really need to blog about this, Colleen," I said. "But so much has happened, I don't know where to start."

"Just say that," she urged. "Just sit down and write 'Dear Ms J, So much has happened, I don't know where to start.' See where it goes from there."

OK.

Dear Ms J, So much has happened, I don't know where to start.

Well ...

As you know, I've been unhappy at work lately - the last two or three years, I suppose. I tried being angry, and it didn't help. I tried being bitter, but that didn't help much either. As a last resort, I decided to try kindness. I decided to try acceptance (that's a really hard one, Ms J.) and lately, I've tried prayer.

There’s a copse of trees that grows next to an open meadow beside the tracks near Oakville. We pass the spot every day on our train. For many years, I saw deer there, grazing contentedly, undisturbed by noisy trains. But not lately. It’s been more than six months since I last noticed a deer in that location. Every time I pass now, for more than a month, I’ve said a little prayer.

“God, you know how unhappy I am here. You know how stressful it is at CN and how badly I want to work for VIA. I’m trying to be patient, Lord, but I’m really struggling with all the changes here. I’ll wait, though, until you decide it’s time for me to go. When it’s time, Lord, could you show me a sign? Please? When it’s my time to go to VIA, show me a deer here in this field.”

On the morning of May 27, I saw not one, but TWO deer. Two large tawny deer, standing peacefully in the morning sun. They raised their heads and watched us streak past. My eyes widened. My heart raced. Tears filled my eyes.

Maybe it was just a couple of deer, I thought. But maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was truly a sign from God. I felt a sense of relief and of joy then. I felt happy. Excited. But there were no VIA jobs advertised in our computer system. I checked every day. Twice a day. VIA Rail is a different company. Even when they're seeking new engineers, it's often a long battle to get CN to put the ads in our computer system.

The next day, the very next day, I bid three VIA jobs. Three jobs were up for bid and advertised in our company's system. The bulletin remained there until the process closed on June 4.

I thought again of the deer I'd seen. Maybe it was a sign from God. But maybe not.
And I’m not the only CN hogger who wants to leave CN’s oppression and tyranny for a better Life at VIA. There are others who want to go, others with more seniority.

A week. I'd have to wait a week. I tried not to get too excited. I didn't want to be disappointed. I've bid on these jobs before and not been successful. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. And those deer ...

On Friday of that week, Bombardier announced they were ready to take over the operation of our GO trains on three rail lines: Barrie, Richmond Hill and Georgetown. My employer, CN, abolished those jobs effective at midnight. About thirty men were immediately affected.

I was sad, Ms J. Sad to see the end of these jobs. We always believed we’d have them forever. We thought CN would be the only company to operate these commuter trains and that our jobs were there for Life. But that was before an American took the reigns at CN. Now, the company we’ve served so well for most of our Lives has cast us off, abandoned us in pursuit of greater profit. As a matter of fact, CN did reap a profit from its relationship with GO Transit, but because of a dispute between the heads of the two companies, CN rejected GO’s contract offer and refused to bid on it. Because these two men were unable or unwilling to work to resolve their differences, about 165 good men and women – employees of CN in GO service – will soon lose their jobs. The thirty jobs lost that day, would mark the beginning of the end.

I thought many years ago that my job as a locomotive engineer was a secure one. “There will always be trains,” I reasoned, “and they’ll always need someone to run them.”

I was wrong. Over the past fifteen years, jobs have been steadily drying up here in Toronto. Almost all the smaller freight yards have been closed and the men who worked there have scrambled to find work elsewhere within the company. Even Mimico Yard, once a bustling, busy place employing a hundred men or more, has nearly closed. There are only a few tracks that remain today, and most of those are empty. The shunting done at CN’s giant freight classification facility north of Toronto, has been reduced to a tiny fraction of what it once was, and the locomotives there are remotely controlled and carry no engineer in the cab. When Bombardier completes the take-over of the GO train operation on August 1, very few engineer positions will remain in Toronto.

But I'd submitted a bid to VIA. Three jobs were available there. Two more will become available this summer. All I could do was wait. And hope. And continue praying.

I discussed it with Colleen.

"If God decides to ignore my prayers and denies me a position at VIA this time, I’m afraid it may be a year or more before I can go. A lot of guys are waiting anxiously to see what happens with Bombardier. If the new company is successful in their plan, there will be a long line of CN hoggers waiting at VIA’s door."

I prayed every day for the ability to accept what might come, and for renewed patience as I waited my turn to flee to VIA Rail.

On Sunday, I went to church. I sat with Colleen and her dad and listened intently to the preacher's sermon. It was about waiting and trusting God to lead us through the difficult and frightening changes in our Lives. As I thought about my job and the possibility of transferring to a new company, it seemed she was speaking directly to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about those two deer. Was it really a sign? Was it really my time?

Monday and Tuesday rolled by without incident. I met Richard, the Bombardier Observer. Remember, Ms J? It began badly, but I recovered and we got along well. Soon Wednesday came. I'll share a page from my personal journal with you.

Wednesday morning:

This is the day, Ms J. This is the day that the job bulletin closes and I find out if I’ve got a job at VIA. I don’t know what to hope for. I’m hoping I’ll get the job of course, but I’m stealing myself against the possibility that I won’t. How could I see those two deer in that field last week? It felt so right, Ms J. It felt so much as though God Himself had put those animals there for me to see them. Really it did. And I’ve been good since then. I’ve been catching myself in negative, or angry, or hateful thoughts and words and stopping myself. I’ve been praying every day, reading the Bible and the hymn book I stole from church. Borrowed from church. Colleen told me this morning she and Ivy had prayed for me. This morning, as I sat in the back seat of the taxi that carried us to Oshawa, I remembered I hadn’t thought about God yet. I folded my hands in my lap and closed my eyes.

“I’m still here, God,” I prayed. “I’m still waiting to escape CN and go to VIA. I know you’re busy but I remember those two deer you sent me and I’m really trying to stay hopeful. Please help me accept your plan for me, even if it means I’ll have to wait a while longer.”

I opened my eyes then and noticed a word on a highway sign. It was as though only that one word were in focus while the others around it were blurry. via

It happened in a heartbeat, Ms J, and then the sign streaked past to disappear in the darkness behind us. I wondered if it had really happened, or if I’d only imagined it. But the image was so clear. The word had stood out crisp and white against a blue background. Via.

I blinked my eyes and took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Another sign? Another message from The Divine? Dare I believe it?

This is the day, Ms J. This is the day that the job bulletin closes and I find out if I’ve got a job at VIA.

And from my personal journal on June 5:


I’m going to VIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The bulletin closed at noon yesterday. At 1:30, my cell phone rang. It was Joe, our union steward.

“Hello, Dale,” he said in his usual friendly way. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Joe,” I said. “I’m just fine. How are you?”

“Good,” said Joe. “I’m good.”

I held the phone to my ear as tightly as I could and waited. For a long time, there was silence. I could hear Joe breathing on the other end. My stomach was tight. I held my breath.

“Congratulations! You’re going to VIA!”

Ms Journal, I cannot describe how I felt. It was incredulity mixed with joy and relief. At first there was even a bit of caution.

“Really, Joe? Are you serious? Don’t screw around, man. I can’t take this. Seriously. Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Totally serious. You’re going to VIA. Congratulations! I’m jealous. Friday will be your last day at CN.”

Thank you was all I could say. I began to cry then, fat, salty tears. My voice quivered as I repeated myself.

“Thank you, Joe. This means so much to me. Thank you. Thank you.”

Richard was there. The Bombardier Observer. He was looking uncomfortable and trying not to notice my tears. I closed my phone and turned to him unashamedly.

“I’m leaving CN, Rich. I’ve got a new job … at VIA.”

He offered congratulations, but I know he couldn’t possibly understand my emotions.

A lady from VIA Rail called me today. Brenda is her name. She was calling from Montreal.

“I just want to say congratulations, Mr. Pringle,” she said. “Welcome to VIA.”

She told me I’m to attend the VIA offices here on Monday morning at 11:00.

“Do you know where that is?” she asked.

I told her yes. It was very close to my home. It was close actually, to the GO train facility where I’d reported for work every day for years.

“I’ve been gazing longingly at that place for about three years!”

She laughed and told me I was to meet a supervisor there on Monday who would take me on a tour of the facility and present me with a VIA “welcome package.” A shirt, maps, instructions, company addresses and phone numbers, etc.

A welcome package!

Management at CN fired me and called me a liar. They disciplined me for exercising my right to book rest. They bullied me and intimidated me into accepting calls to take trains into unfamiliar territory.

VIA offers me a welcome package, a tour, and four months of training.

“Oh and don’t worry about your pay, Mr. Pringle,” she said. “We’ll process your paperwork as soon as CN releases you on Friday. You won’t lose any pay. And you’ll be fully paid while you train.”

Fully paid, Ms J. Fully appreciated. Fully valued. And at 10% more than CN.

This is good.

This is God.

This great!

I went to Meagan’s school today. She was part of a programme to recognise academic achievement in Lakeshore Collegiate students. She received a wooden plaque to honour excellence in “Career Studies.” She achieved a grade of 95%

I am so PROUD of my daughter!!!!

I’ve had the BEST DAY EVER!!!

***

Compassion

First day at work on a new train. Huey is the conductor. I like Hubert. We begin our day at 3:30 with a forty mile taxi ride from Mimico to Oshawa. The ride takes about an hour. I dozed most of the way. 3:30, Ms J. What an ungodly hour to begin the day!

At Oshawa, we found our train and prepared it for departure. As I strolled along the platform toward the operating end of the train, I noticed a solitary figure sitting on a bench bathed in the harsh light of overhead lamps. As I approached him, he spoke to me.

“Are you a crew member on this train?”

I thought it was an odd question until I noticed the photo I.D. card he was wearing.

“B*****dier Observer”

I decided to ignore him as I found my key and opened a door on the train.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you the engineer?”

“Maybe,” I said and stepped up into the train.

He was suddenly beside me with his hand out.

“My name’s Richard. I’m the observer today.”

Who’s here to take my job, I thought, although I didn’t say it. Instead, I turned and walked away from him and left him standing there with his arm extended.

“I’m thrilled, Richard,” I said with all the smarmy sarcasm I could muster. “I’m fucking elated.”

And so began a morning that was stressful and difficult and emotionally painful for both of us. There was little, if any conversation. I twisted and squirmed in my own misery and pulled my righteous indignation around me like the red velvet robe of a monarch.

I thought, Who the hell is this clown? He’s here to watch me, to learn how to do my job so he can take it from me. We’ve held these jobs for forty years and I’m not about to give it up to someone who’s not even a railroader. These people know nothing about trains, or about tradition, or history. They don’t even care. Well I do, dammit. I care. Screw him. Screw all of them. They have no right to work these jobs. They’re OUR jobs.

And on and on and on.

I worked hard at keeping my thoughts negative, Ms J, because every time I stopped, my conscience allowed a few rays of compassion to seep in. And I didn’t want that. I wanted to hate this guy, to resent him. And so I went to war against my conscience and against Truth, and stayed quiet and sullen all morning. By the time the afternoon arrived, I was losing the battle.

He was just a man, an innocent man who wanted nothing more than to earn a living. He hadn’t come to “take my job.” It wasn’t a malicious or spiteful act, Ms Journal. He was simply a man who needed a job. It must be hard for him. He probably gets the same cold shoulder from every crew he meets. I glanced over at him and watched as he studied a sheet of paper, furrowing his brow and concentrating as though he intended to memorise its contents verbatim. I had behaved badly. I felt ashamed of myself. I owed him an apology.

“Richard?” I said softly.

He didn’t raise his eyes but continued to study his paper.

“Yeah?”

I hoped suddenly that he wouldn’t look at me because I really felt as though I wanted to cry. My eyes filled and a tear rolled silently down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly and shook my head. Stupid tears. Why does this happen to me? Why must I cry like a helpless woman?

I took a breath and plunged in.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you this morning. It’s really a difficult time for us. Both of us. All of us. We’re scared, Richard. We’re all just really scared. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

He said he understood and thanked me for being honest with him. We began slowly to talk about ourselves and to share our feelings. I learned he was recently divorced. He is the father of a six-year-old girl and loves her very much. He understands the fear that is intrinsic in major Life transitions. Change is painful. We’ve both known our share of suffering.

I found compassion for this fellow, Ms J. In listening to his story and learning of his hopes and fears and struggles, my heart was laid open and I found compassion. Through compassion, a day that began badly was saved and transformed into something good and pure and right.

I wonder if compassion might somehow transform me in the same way, and I wonder if that change might become permanent?

***