I loved going there it smelled like gingerbread and it was
very close to P.J. My brother always had to be in the engineer seat, I can still
see him doing that. My father either sat with him or in the next railroad seat. My
mom is not in many of our pictures,she was a shutterbug! This place actually looked
like a Willie Wonka place. It was run by people who looked like they would taste like
my beloved gingerbread man that my parent’s had just bought us. I always wanted to
live there when I grew up.
We had a soft place in our hearts there,my father was lucky that his brother got him
a union job .Working for the railroad was one of very few places that was steady (for
a while anyway and we were all well with the world.)
One of my childhood friends asked me who did I love the most,I could not answer her
because I loved them both equally ( this was true until a nun from St.Mary’s ruined
our faith in the church,and ( in my case anyway) to question if there was even a God.
The questioning made by me at such a young age is something I never resolved. I
wonder how people can be so sure? If there is one I think he must be blind,deaf,and
In my thoughts of Port Jervis that l have not thought about,but it has come to haunt
me and confront me with not the small little train that went around the castle. Now
it would dredge up memories that are best left forgotten.

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