Funny Stuff

The school bus pulls into our farmyard every morning at 7:45 and our boys (my grandsons) rush off to school. Usually they are well prepared, but for some reason, one day last week, Josh raced out of the house with his backpack, lunch and no binder containing his homework assignment. Midmorning came the phone call:

“Grandma I’m sorry to bother you with this, but it’s an emergency. Mom and Dad are at work and I forgot my binder on the porch and my homework is in it and if I don’t hand it in today I’ll get two detentions and I have band practice and swimming and…” I broke in at that point. “Okay. I have a trip to town anyway so I’ll drop your binder in the office later this morning.” I was rewarded with a “Gee thanks, Gram. I owe ya!”

Now, our farm lane involves a mainline CPR railway crossing before reaching the highway. Usually it’s no problem. The trains are long, but there are only momentary delays and we co-exist. This being harvest time, however, the spur line running parallel to the main line was being used to make up a grain train, and when I arrived at the crossing there was a line of immobile grain cars.

Just as I was about to turn around and go home, a car pulled up on the other side of the tracks. It was my neighbour, coming to bring me some apples. We called to one another through the space between the cars, but having lectured the kids many a time on never, ever climbing through the cars, I wasn’t about to try it.

However, all was not lost. Down the line, about four cars, was a flat car. All I had to do was toss the binder across, and my friend, good gal that she is, would take it the rest of the way to the school. We hiked down through the underbrush tangle beside the tracks to the flat car and I gave the binder what I felt was a healthy toss. It wasn’t healthy enough, however, and the binder landed in the middle of the flat car. About the same time there was a mighty clashing and the ever so slight movement, meaning the whole train was starting up. There lay the binder, in sweet repose, on the flat car of a train going heaven knows where. And there stood my friend and I, dumbfounded. Whatever was I going to tell Josh and his parents? And his teacher for that matter. “The dog ate my homework” was absolutely feasible compared to: “My grandma sent my homework away on a flat car.”

As soon as the track cleared, we headed to the school. My neighbour waited in the car while I made my explanations. I knew I’d come across as a slightly confused, silly senior citizen, but I had to face the music. I could sense their sympathy for Josh—with a grandma like that—and it stood him in good stead as he was given an extra day to complete his assignment. My neighbour and I went found solace in a Tim Hortons coffee, then went home.

The railway crossing was absolutely clear when we reached it—not a train in sight.