Hopping A Train - Deb Martin-Webster Books

Memories of a conversation I had with my dad at the tender age of five years old

Supper was a time when our family downloaded their mental bits and pieces collected over the course of the day. “How was school -  did you have fun, was the traffic dreadful on Interstate 95, did you remember to return your library books, which one of you is responsible for the bald patch on the cat?” Between the pot roast and dessert we took turns sharing our memories of the day. It was a Wednesday evening when my dad arrived home from a twelve hour work shift. The first thing he would ask, “Did all of you do your best today?” It didn’t matter if we got straight A’s he only wanted us to do our very best. “If you do your best and get a B, it won’t be for the lack of trying!”   That was his motto. Mom on the other hand was more the over-achiever. “Get good grades . . .  end of story.” She never finished her degree. She went to a trade school at night and became one of the first female welders at the Philadelphia Navy Yard. I was more like my dad. Born with a more artistic soul we believed that beauty and love are just as important as climbing the corporate ladder.

One evening my older sister came home from school with a Career Day assignment. What do you want to be when you grow up and how would you achieve these goal, etc. She was ten years old and I was five. I didn’t understand the words achieve or career nor did I want to.  The only word that made me smile was cartoon. I still feel a sense of excitement when I hear it today, Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Rocky and Bullwinkle . . . but I digress. 

Before the evening news mom would clear the kitchen table. We settled down to do our homework. I remember her helping my sister with her assignment, dragging out volume after volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica, thumbing through pages and pages of great career choices for women, reading about successful careers and how to achieve them, setting your aspirations high and so on. Personally, I had much more fun stacking the books high enough so that I was eye level to our old black and white television set.  My seven year old brother was working on subtraction. I had just started kindergarten so I was officially pardoned from the homework session. To me it looked like punishment having to read all those dull facts, writing reports and memorizing pages of math problems . . . not fun at all! There was nothing for me to do but sit still and continue to look disinterested.  After my sister finished her research I helped dad put the books back on the bookshelf. Nonchalantly, dad asked, “So, what do you want to be when you grow up?” Without any hesitation I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Daddy, I want to be a hobo!”   I didn’t understand why everyone laughed.  I continued telling dad about my plan to join the hobos.  I could ride trains for free, eat outdoors, sit by campfires telling stories, and travel all over the country - I’d be free to do whatever I wanted!”   Who wouldn’t want to be a hobo!  Not wanted to demean career choice dad said, “Well let’s get you started. “ He found an old red bandanna and a stick. I gathered all my worldly belongings which consisted of my raggedy teddy bear, a clean pair of underwear, and six cents. Dad helped me with my coat and hat. As we stood on our front porch he offered to walk with me to the train stop which just happened to be at the end of our road.   I remember sitting on the bench swinging my feet as happy as a clam. I saw mom coming down the road to join us with a napkin of full of cookies. “Here you may want to share these with your fellow hobos.”  Mom kindheartedly suggested that I set my career aspirations a bit higher. My dad on the other hand said I’d make a fine hobo, someday.  

I don’t remember falling asleep. Somehow I woke up back in my bedroom holding raggedy old teddy bear with a card tucked under his arm. It read, “May your friends be many, your future bright and your world amazing. Never let go of your dreams! Love, Dad and Mom”