Santa's Santa Fe

Santa's Santa Fe

painted on Dec 24, 2017
10" x 7" (w x h), 140 lb. Arches watercolor paper, NFS

Santa's Santa Fe 
by Bruce McMillan, © 2017
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For a pre-school boy, living in the red brick housing projects of Lower Roxbury, going on a subway ride, above ground and then underground, to downtown Boston was an adventure. At Christmas time my parents and I, and maybe my little sister, met up with my Dad's parents, Grammie and Grampa, and we went up to the top floor of Jordan Marsh.
        There wasn't anything for sale on the top floor, only the biggest and best sight in town. It was the immense display set-up, I'm sure the largest in the world, of Lionel Trains. The sights and sounds dazzled me, so many trains, all moving, with train whistles blowing. They kept going and going and going, toot, toot, passing by me watching the trains, while my parents and grandparents watched me.
        Since my father didn't think Boston was the place where he wanted to raise his kids, we moved to Bangor, Silver Road. Maybe four or five or six years later, when Christmas rolled by, trains were still in my head. I'd done my Lionel research. When asked what I wanted for Christmas, what I wanted Santa to bring, I knew. Of course, I wanted a Lionel train set, tracks and a transformer and all, not a big set, just one for the living room floor. But it had to have one thing, an eye-catching, dazzling. And it had to have train sounds. Maybe it would have an operating headlight, a lighted cab interior, and the best design and colors. That would be, none other than, a Santa Fe diesel, the El Capitan. Was it the Santa Fe and Santa subliminal connection that fueled my desire? Was it the silver on the train that caught the eye of this boy who lived on Silver Road? Who knows? Who cares? It was a Santa Fe El Capitan.
        Of course, I had no idea that Santa had ordered exactly what I'd asked for. It came all the way from New York, arrived unseen at Silver Road, and then was packed away, hidden, until Santa's Christmas Eve delivery.
        What little boy can go to sleep early on Christmas Eve? So, it was later than late before I was asleep.
        Santa arrived. He set up the tracks, the transformer, the El Capitan, the whole set. Santa turned it on. Nothing. No train movement, no sounds, no lights, nothing. Santa worked on it long into the night, again and again, all to no avail. Resigning himself to having to order a replacement, he finally retired to bed, but not for long.
        At 7:00 am I was awake and way too excited. I alerted us all on the top floor, waking up my sister and mother and father, while peeking around the banister. I was too eager to get to the Christmas Tree to look closely at my sort-of-awake-father. Down the stairs we raced.
        My eye's popped. I was astounded. Yes, there it was, the Santa Fe diesel. All it needed was for me to turn on the transformer. But, with a turn of the transformer's handle, I was no more successful than Santa had been. My father was silent. Or perhaps he was busy trying to tell me something. I had no idea. I was too busy thinking, looking, figuring out why it didn't work. In less than sixty seconds, with a change of the wires to different poles on the transformer, a snap off and on of the track wire connecter, a reattachment to the wires on the snap connecter, all things young Lionel train engineers know how to do, finally, came the test, another turn of the transformer's handle.
        "Whoo, whoo!" The Santa Fe El Capitan hurtled down the track. It went round and round, it's headlight shining the way. The silver sides of the engine must've reflected my smile. I can only imagine how my father felt, watching the Santa Fe train circling the tracks.
        That Christmas, I didn't know why my father took such a long nap after our presents were open. But he was awake for our Christmas turkey dinner.
        That evening, my father summed up the season's days, as he did every Christmas Night, proclaiming with his sigh, "It was another successful Christmas."
        "Whoo, whoo!"