Tag Archives: logan utah

Out & About—Historic trains in Ogden Utah

Out & About The World

Granddad, as well as my dad, worked for Missouri Pacific Railroad, granddad as a Road Foreman of Engines. Dad also was a Road Foreman of Engines but had just been promoted to Vice-President of Missouri Pacific Railroad when he killed himself. They found his body on January 18, 1961, in a railroad box car in a small, isolated railroad siding northeast of Palestine, Texas. They estimated that he had been dead for three days.

After dad’s death, mom moved us from Palestine to northern Utah, first Hyrum, then Wellsville, then Logan, and finally Brigham City. Brigham City is where I became a rail fan. Among other things, I used to skip school and hop the Union Pacific trains, riding in a box car down to Ogden and back. A cool 38-mile round trip. I’m the reason why you don’t see open doors on empty box cars anymore….

In May 1969, when I was 14 years old, I was living in Kingsville, Texas, with my paternal grandparents. They had adopted me 3½ years earlier. May 1969 was the 100th anniversary of the completion of the first transcontinental railroad. I wanted so badly to go back to Utah and help Union Pacific celebrate, but said grandparents would not take me. I was sad. Granted, it was 1,500 miles away, but nevertheless…. Still sad.

My stamp collecting helped me determine that historic events were celebrated every 50 years. I did the calculations and determined that I would be 64 in 2019 when the 150th anniversary rolled around. I had a chance to still be alive, so I put it on my calendar.

Fast forward to May 10, 2019. Guess where I was. Yep. Northern Utah participating in many celebrations of the 150th anniversary of the completion of the first transcontinental railroad. Two historic steam locomotives were due to be in Ogden, Utah, to help with the celebrations My #1 goal was to get a video of the two locomotives leaving Ogden to go back to the steam shops in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Here’s the video I got:

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NO TRESPASSING

Out & About

Missouri Pacific LinesAs a toddler I had a significant interest in trains since my dad and granddad both worked for Missouri Pacific Railroad in Texas.

When my dad died in 1961, my mom moved us from Palestine, Texas, to Logan, Utah.

My interest in trains remained, though, so much so that whenever I ran away from home, which was often, I would walk the railroad tracks instead of the streets and highways.

Train tracks, State Route 94, San Diego County, CaliforniaMuch more fun…………

I used to think that maybe I would become one of The Boxcar Children.

When I came here to San Diego, walking the railroad tracks was frowned upon.

Amtrak Pacific Surfliner in Del Mar, CaliforniaIn fact, in some areas they will give you trespassing tickets if you don’t cross the tracks at designated crosswalks.

Unfortunately, though, railroad tracks often separate the beaches from the cities, so one sometimes has to walk a mile or more to get to a designated crossing.

Thus, beachgoers, especially those with children or large surfboards, often park wherever there is parking (and there’s not much!) and walk across the tracks, which is what I did recently when I came across the most interesting NO TRESPASSING sign.

Railroad No Trespassing sign

Pictures copyright 2012 Russel Ray Photos

From what I have read, the theory behind that NO TRESPASSING sign is that people are looking down so as not to trip on rocks and train tracks, so that is the logical place to put such a sign. Makes sense to me………….

Pictures copyright 2012 Russel Ray Photos

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Friday Flower Fiesta (9-12-14)—Bearded and wild

Friday Flower Fiesta

Part of my youth was spent living in northern Utah, places like Hyrum, Wellsville, Logan, and Brigham City. There is a significant difference between the climate of northern Utah and that of San Diego.

One of my favorite flowers that grew very well in Utah was the iris. We have a wild iris that grows here in San Diego, and while it is pretty, it’s just not as awesome as the irises from Utah. About the only time I see something like a bearded iris is near the coast where it’s cooler all the time, and on the campus of San Diego State University which has become a pretty good arboretum over the last four or five years.

Here are some of my favorite iris pictures in my collection:

#1 Wild Iris stamp

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#2Wild Iris

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#3
Purple iris

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#4
Purple iris

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#5
Iris at the San Diego Zoo

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#6Iris from Weidner's Gardens

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#7

Peach Iris

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#8

Regal Iris

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#9Bearded iris

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#10Wild Iris stampPictures copyright 2012 Russel Ray Photos

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Pictures copyright 2012 Russel Ray Photos

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Young flamingos for Obama

Thank you to my Family!

I livew in my own little world

Pictures copyright 2012 Russel Ray Photos

Seahorse at Birch AquariumPlease, sit down. Let me tell you a story. It’s a story about discrimination, hatred, and prejudice. It’s a story about me.

I grew up as the product of a large Mormon family (mom) and a large Catholic family (dad). Both religions taught me about discrimination, hatred, and prejudice at a very early age. They are the main reason why I am not affiliated with any religion 57 years later.

I was born in Kingsville, Texas, in 1955, and lived there until 1960, best I can tell. We lived in Palestine, Texas, from 1960 to 1961. After my dad killed himself with a handgun, my mom moved us to northern Utah (Logan, Brigham City, Wellsville, Hyrum) to be closer to her Mormon side of the family.

Union Pacific 844 steam engine in Southern California, November 2011I was a juvenile delinquent, and eventually either my mom and stepdad decided to get rid of me, or the State of Utah took me away from them. Either way, in September 1965 I wound up as a ward of the Thomas D. Dee Memorial Hospital in Ogden, Utah.

At “The Dee,” I met Barbara Hunt, an 18-year-old woman from Bakersfield, California. She also was a ward of the hospital. Barbara befriended me and helped me write a letter to my wise old grandmother (MWOG), my dad’s mom. We couldn’t send it because I had no idea where MWOG lived. However, that night an address came to me in a dream: “Mary Agnes Kirk, Kingsville, Texas.” That was it. We sent the letter. It arrived. By Christmas 1965 I was living in Kingsville, Texas, having been adopted by MWOG.

Barn owlWithout that adoption, I’m convinced that this juvenile delinquent would either be dead at the hands of a Utah law enforcement officer or spending life in prison. MWOG gave me what all children need, regardless of who they get it from (mom & dad, mom & mom, dad & dad, mom & friends, dad & friends): love AND discipline.

MWOG laid down the rules, and she told me what the punishment was if I broke the rules. After I broke a rule and was punished, MWOG would let me cry for five or ten minutes, then take me to the bathroom where she washed the tears from my face with a warm wash cloth, dried my face, gave me a kiss, and then told me that the same thing would happen if I broke the rules again. It only took twice to understand that she meant what she said — I wasn’t exactly stupid.

Women and dogs at the beachDuring my formative years in Utah I was exposed to the N word; blacks were not welcome in our
all-white Mormon neighborhood and school. When I got back to Texas in 1965, the Catholic side of the family continued with the N word but also introduced me to other disparaging words for Mexicans, Spanish descendents, Chinese, women who worked (i.e., were more than just a person to cook meals and provide sex to the man of the house), etc.

When I went off to college at Texas A&M University, one of my ramp mates in Puryear Hall was a black guy from Nigeria (I’m pretty sure he has nothing to do with all the email scams coming out of Nigeria). I acquired a newfound respect for people of different colors, nationalities, and ethnicities.

Blacks Beach in San Diego, CaliforniaI arrived in San Diego in April 1993 and camped out on the beaches for eleven months studying the world’s great and not-so-great religions to see if there was a place for a coming-out-of-the-closet gay person. I determined that there wasn’t. At best, there were a few tolerant religions, such as Church of Christ and, to a much lesser extent, Episcopalians and Presbyterians. The latter two have taken a few steps backward since 1993. I remain unreligioned.

In March 1994, I put myself back into the work force. Eleven months doing nothing but laying out on the beach isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
I hired on with a temp agency, and the first job they sent me to was a
foul-mouthed old man. I stayed for the morning but did not go back after lunch. For my next job I was supposed to report to a person named Alana Infantino. Being a naive country boy, I had no idea what kind of a name Alana Infantino was, but since the job paid exceedingly well, I went.

Unknown flowerAlana was a woman. Ack! A working woman! Ack!

Alana and I hit it off, and eventually I took a full-time permanent position with her company. I was to be the legal word processor/project database manager/network engineer in Detroit, Michigan (Farmington Hills, actually). Alana took me out to eat and gave me a verbal introduction to the Detroit office. I found out that in the Detroit office there were working women, working blacks, and even working black women! Ack!

I made friends with everyone. Learned a lot about the world, too.

That was 1994. Here in 2012 I have a new family. None of them are related to me by blood. That family has been summarily dismissed. I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. My new family comprises Americans, Mexicans, Chinese, Japanese, Russians, Turks, Poles…..well, take a look at my WordPress flags from yesterday:

Flags

Pictures copyright 2012 Russel Ray Photos

My new family also comprises women, men, gays, lesbians, straightees, married, divorced, single, old, young…. It’s a wonderful family and to my current way of thinking, much better than my old family. So here’s a “Thank you!” to my new family for keeping me involved in the world, and learning.

Young flamingos for Obama

Pictures copyright 2012 Russel Ray Photos

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Pictures copyright 2012 Russel Ray Photos