Don Foltz - An In Depth Look At Nothing In Particular

An In Depth Look At
Nothing In Particular

DON FOLTZ

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2014 Don Foltz. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse 08/12/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-3018-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-3017-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014913452

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Contents

An In Depth Look At
Nothing In Particular

Concerning Events In and
Around Sunfield Michigan

D ear friends, as you read through the chapters of this, my second book, you will quickly realize its much like Items of Interest or, Possibly Not. Im hoping its better in every aspect, and if not, you will know that at least I tried.

You will also quickly see that my horrific grammar has not improved; even though my computer does its best to keep me in line. I think to myself, poor misguided computer, dont even; proper English has never been a high priority for me and a string of well intentioned teachers can affirm that theory.

Be confident in the knowledge that each composition actually happened in some form or manner and, of course, they are all flavored and strengthened with my personal interpretations and observations.

So, here it is, my second try at putting my words of wisdom; ideas, hopes and fragmented thoughts in book form. If this one doesnt become a number one best seller, well, then it could be my last attempt, or, very near the last.

I hope you enjoy it.

Don

W e, my three brothers, Mom and Dad, and I, lived in a small home on Logan Street, Sunfield, Michigan, which is also the place of my birth in July of 1940. My memories, while living there, are limited to a few outstanding events before we moved to the country near the end of the Second World War.

But, and Im sure you knew this was coming, I do have one very clear recognition of a happening during that very time, Im quite sure it was the Spring of 1944. I can even remember the Month, which would be April.

At that time the old steam locomotives were still in use in much of the United States and went through Sunfield on a regular basis. We lived only two short blocks from the depot (burned to the ground in 1966) and the tracks, which are still in use today. They run east and west and connect Detroit, Lansing and Grand Rapids.

The depot in 1944 was an important part of our little town and was a hub of activity. The mail came on the train with daily delivery of freight and the occasional passenger service.

The depot itself was really neat, but, I guess, typical of other depots all over the nation. As I remember, it had sort of raised platform all around the building and a large ramp at the east end for loading and unloading freight. In the building interior was a large storage area on the entire east end and to me, the most interesting area; the office, on the opposite end.

It had a little waiting room with wooden benches all along the walls, and, towards the north end, a glassed in section where the railroad agent did his business; sold tickets, handled the freight dealings and worked the telegraph key.

The station agent was a very important and vital cog of village life and ranked right up there with the mayor, bank president, postmaster and the fire chief. Not a man to be trifled with.

Our little story takes place in this very depot and includes the agent, yours truly, my older brothers and couple of other boys of whom I cannot remember. But I do recall that all, (not me) none the less, were trifling their heads off with the station master.

For some reason, which I became aware of many years later, I was allowed to go on this journey with my brothers (which of course was not the norm) unless, I had bawled my head off, which was the norm. This was a visit they did often, to talk and joke around with the agent who was a fun and really neat guy. He enjoyed it as it helped to break up the work day. He put up with their jokes and tom foolery and even taught them Morse code. I remember my brother Nathan became quite good at it, Stan could have cared less. The clacking of the telegraph key was, to me, like magic, as all of a sudden it would take off by itself, and somehow make sense and provide a message to the agent.

Another exciting feature was when a train came through, just scant feet away, an event that made your heart pound. The noise was deafening, steam, smoke, the whistle blowing and the entire building shaking with the windows rattling. It was a sight and sound to behold, it always scared the h-e- double hockey sticks out of me.

This particular day I, at three years and nine months of age, was content to be sitting at one of the benches, as the older boys carried on, and just sit there and think, mostly, I guess, about my future. Thats just me.

Little did I know that in just a few moments my future, in my eyes, wouldnt look all that promising.

Everyone was laughing and joking around, yakking it up when the agent, who was sitting at the counter that separated his office from the waiting room, looked up and said, Quiet down, the uproar stopped as he looked through a stack of papers, opened various desk drawers and looked up again and declared, The money from the cash drawer is missing!

It got very quiet; he asked around the room if any of them were responsible, all declared their innocence. He then looked over at me, his eyes narrowed, he slowly lifted his hand and pointed at me and said, Ill bet you stole it! his voice rising in volume.

Im not sure I even knew what a cash drawer was, but I did know the meaning of the word Stole and I had heard enough! I lit out for the door on the dead run. I could hear the roar of hooting, hollering and laughter behind me.

I can remember thinking, Damn, here I am heading down the road to perdition and they think its funny.

I was well into my second block and nearly home and had worked up a devil of a side ache when a toot of a horn caught my attention. It came from the car of my aunt and uncle who had pulled up beside me. Auntie rolled down the window and said, Donnie (all the old people called me Donnie) Ive got a surprise for you.

Holy cow had my crime already spread to the streets? I gave her the old blank stare and hoped they wouldnt turn me in.

Youve got a new baby sister!

Well Ill be switched; I wonder where she came from?

I walked on home, went in and sat on the couch and pondered the days activities. I had been accused of grand theft and now a new baby sister. Hmmmm.

Was there any future in my wretched life? Id no longer be able to show my face on the village streets and now I was no longer the baby of the family. I think it was at this point I began losing my hair.

However, in a very short time my luck was about to change as I learned we would be moving, leaving Sunfield, the origin of my crime, and going to the country, farm country, deep into the wilds of Eaton County. It would take a pretty clever railroad man to flush me out of there!