Christmas train memories are a transport back to childhood

One of my favorite holiday memories is of my family taking the train to my grandmother’s house in Nebraska for Christmas. We made that trip several times during my childhood, and the remembrance of it warms my heart even now.

The excitement start ed when the taxi arrived at our front door just after 6 p.m. Dad would help load the suitcases and packages into the back of the cab and then take his place in the front seat beside the driver, while my mom and my brothers and I climbed into the roomy back seat. Light snow melted on the windshield as we made our way down 17th Street to Union Station in downtown Denver.

Our train was scheduled to leave around 8:30, but invariably bad weather delayed our departure.

While waiting for the boarding call, we looked at magazines, browsed in the gift shop, or enjoyed a bite to eat from the snack bar.

I watched the people; I observed, among others, young couples spending their first Christmas together, older folks going to visit their grandkids in the Midwest, and almost always a soldier with a duffel bag on leave for the holidays.

Time crawled, and we were all relieved when we finally heard the announcement: “All passengers traveling to Fort Morgan, Ogallala, North Platte, Grand Island, Omaha and all points east, now board at Gate 3.” We made our way up the ramp and out to the platform as the engines of the Union Pacific hissed.

Once on board, we found our seats, got comfortable and settled in for our journey across Nebraska in the middle of the night. It was almost Christmas Eve.

Riding the train was an adventure, and even though my brothers and I were tired, we couldn’t resist moving from car to car, as the train rocked from side to side. My dad led us through the dining car with its white tablecloths and fancy table settings up to the dome car to see the lights of the city.

As we gathered speed outside Denver, we returned to our seats in coach, covered ourselves with our winter coats and blankets, and tried to go to sleep. By that time, most of the passengers had turned off their overhead lights, except for a few night owls who were reading books or playing solitaire. Only the tiny floor lights illuminated the aisles.

The movement of the train and the warmth of my winter coat lulled me to sleep for a few hours, but I woke up as passengers quietly made their way to lounge cars or when the train stopped to drop off or pick up holiday travelers. That’s when I watched the lights; street lights in the small Nebraska towns, the red flashing lights of the train signals, and colorful Christmas lights adorning trees and farmhouse fences. I can still see those lights and hear the muted sounds of the crossing signals and the train whistle as the Union Pacific rattled into the darkness.

Half the joy of traveling at Christmas is anticipating reunions with family and friends. In this we were never disappointed. No matter what the hour of our arrival, my grandmother and aunts were always eagerly waiting for us. They would meet the train and drive our sleepy little family to their comfortable home, where we would be served a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and toasted Swedish rye bread, accompanied by hot coffee, of course.

Later in the morning, we would take a catnap before the traditional Christmas Eve meal, a visit from Santa and the midnight candlelight service at the Lutheran church where my grandparents from Sweden were charter members.

A goodnight hug and a warm bed never felt better than they did in the wee, small hours of Christmas morning at my grandmother’s house. There was always a new pair of flannel pajamas under my pillow.

I still remember those Christmases in Nebraska, and every December I take that journey in my mind, across the miles and back in time. I’m so grateful for the memories I have and for that special time in my life when being with family was the greatest gift of all.

Most of that generation has passed now; I miss them so much! I’m sure they still gather together around a beautiful Christmas table, sing carols, reminisce and celebrate the birth of Christ.