Trains & Whistle Code
The homeless village was in an industrial area we affectionately called the Armpit of Eugene. To be honest, some used a different analogy, point made though. Being in an industrial setting we were right next to some railway tracks, the sound of train cars clanging into one another, “hooking up,” in the middle of the night, is just something you get used to. A very loud thing you get used to.
For me the more interesting thing about the tracks were the train whistles. Who knew there was a whole intricate communication between trains called whistle code? I had assumed there was some form of basic communication going on and came to find out there was far more to it than I thought. One villager took a particular interest in whistle code because she had this dream of one day hopping a train. I loved the concept as a point of study, as a person who had hopped my fair share of trains knowing nothing of this code, would knowing the whistle code have made any difference? Would it have been somehow easier to hop a train knowing the code?
Aurora, formerly known as Josh, told me much of what she knew about whistle code. It brought hobo code to mind as well as the secret language we spoke in the carnival, even the secret little things between my daughter and me. Learning the language of a thing connects you to it in a profound way. I had to get the information in increments since Aurora, “Rory” as we called her, barely spoke. She wasn’t like any other person I had met going through transition in current culture. The thing about Rory was the wide and varied different subjects she knew about, and she did her research. She was one of those people who didn’t talk much but you’d listen, she was respectful and considerate, never pushing any agenda, just being.
One evening during a meeting we were interrupted by a very loud, very frantic, repeated train whistle. As a joke, I said, “OK! We get it! You’re a train! Wow” in the general direction of the train, it was kind of a village joke. It wasn’t the first time we’d heard that sporadic blare, we actually heard it pretty frequently. The only person who didn’t smirk or chuckle was Rory. In fact, quite the opposite, she suddenly got kind of somber.
When the meeting adjourned I caught up with her when everyone started to scatter. I struck up a quick conversation before wondering about the train whistle. I’d asked her about train whistles enough before so it wasn’t weird for me to bring it up. I asked her if I’d struck a nerve and she lit up a cigarette and shifted her bag like she was settling in for a minute, a rare thing for her. She then told me all about her childhood friend James, he had passed away a couple of years prior. Now that I know, it doesn’t sound the same to me.
Now that I know, every time I hear a train whistle, I wonder. I can’t believe how many times I hopped a train and had no idea the things that can happen. I know what whistling off is, I know what three short blares mean, I know what three long ones mean. I know that someone driving a train can’t stop on a dime. I know that there isn’t time for them to stop when they see someone on the tracks and I know that they will lay on that horn, short blasts, long, whatever they can do to try and get that person off the tracks. I know that people who commit suicide by train don’t think about that driver. I do now, every time I hear a trains whistle.
For me the more interesting thing about the tracks were the train whistles. Who knew there was a whole intricate communication between trains called whistle code? I had assumed there was some form of basic communication going on and came to find out there was far more to it than I thought. One villager took a particular interest in whistle code because she had this dream of one day hopping a train. I loved the concept as a point of study, as a person who had hopped my fair share of trains knowing nothing of this code, would knowing the whistle code have made any difference? Would it have been somehow easier to hop a train knowing the code?
Aurora, formerly known as Josh, told me much of what she knew about whistle code. It brought hobo code to mind as well as the secret language we spoke in the carnival, even the secret little things between my daughter and me. Learning the language of a thing connects you to it in a profound way. I had to get the information in increments since Aurora, “Rory” as we called her, barely spoke. She wasn’t like any other person I had met going through transition in current culture. The thing about Rory was the wide and varied different subjects she knew about, and she did her research. She was one of those people who didn’t talk much but you’d listen, she was respectful and considerate, never pushing any agenda, just being.
One evening during a meeting we were interrupted by a very loud, very frantic, repeated train whistle. As a joke, I said, “OK! We get it! You’re a train! Wow” in the general direction of the train, it was kind of a village joke. It wasn’t the first time we’d heard that sporadic blare, we actually heard it pretty frequently. The only person who didn’t smirk or chuckle was Rory. In fact, quite the opposite, she suddenly got kind of somber.
When the meeting adjourned I caught up with her when everyone started to scatter. I struck up a quick conversation before wondering about the train whistle. I’d asked her about train whistles enough before so it wasn’t weird for me to bring it up. I asked her if I’d struck a nerve and she lit up a cigarette and shifted her bag like she was settling in for a minute, a rare thing for her. She then told me all about her childhood friend James, he had passed away a couple of years prior. Now that I know, it doesn’t sound the same to me.
Now that I know, every time I hear a train whistle, I wonder. I can’t believe how many times I hopped a train and had no idea the things that can happen. I know what whistling off is, I know what three short blares mean, I know what three long ones mean. I know that someone driving a train can’t stop on a dime. I know that there isn’t time for them to stop when they see someone on the tracks and I know that they will lay on that horn, short blasts, long, whatever they can do to try and get that person off the tracks. I know that people who commit suicide by train don’t think about that driver. I do now, every time I hear a trains whistle.
