Hundreds of people lined the railroad tracks in Pocatello to visit Union Pacific Railroad’s steam locomotive 844 when it stopped here last week. The rain was lightly spotting our glasses and shoulders while it also created muddy puddles. The number of cars coming and going were reminders of the huge flock going to see and hear Shoshone Falls close to Twin Falls.

However, when we hear the sound of a steam engine blowing its horn, we are reminded (if we are old enough) of the sound of trains as they passed near or far enough away so we didn’t have to quickly look to see if we were crossing a railroad track.

What is it about that sound? Nostalgia is the word that comes to my mind. As a child it was commonplace enough to remind us that the afternoon train was leaving Southern California so it could take freight or people north to San Francisco.

Sounds such as that stay with a person and I still remember lots of incidences that were attached to those sounds. For instance, there was the elderly couple in a car that had been hit by the train.

My father got out of our car to see if there was anything he could do and when he returned, his only words were, ”They are pinned in their car, but not badly hurt.”

Being 5 years old, I had an image of two people with a huge safety pin holding them in their car. In addition to that was the steam noisily dispelled from the train’s giant engine as it waited for Fire Department EMTs to move the car aside.

My parents took me and my sisters on the train to San Francisco to visit the World’s Fair in the 1930s. Memories of that trip are emphasized by the clatter of wheels and the whistle to warn cars that the train was coming through.

Over time I forgot about the clatter and the whistle until, about 20 years ago, a steam engine train came to Pocatello and (if we signed up early enough) took us to American Falls. It was a beautiful trip: short, but full of the sounds, the gentle rocking back and forth, and the animated talk about this unusual experience.

So last week when I heard the sound of that whistle, I shivered, not from fear, but from the thought of this sound from the past suddenly seeping into the present.

My plan was to visit steam engine 844 at its temporary site last Thursday. But (per usual) the rain was coming down so hard that I was drenched just going up my driveway to get the mail. Later, however, the rain diminished enough to make the visit possible. Besides, I said to myself, probably no-one will be there because it is muddy and cold. That was pretty funny because “crowded” is the only word that fits.

For some, viewing engine 844 had nothing to do with nostalgia: it was merely wanting to see a locomotive engine that was so sleek, huge, strong and yet approachable. This part of the endless line comprised young couples with small children, those bent on investigating an historic machine or those wanting to see something that a grandfather had told stories about.

Most of the crowd represented those of us who had gone through childhood hearing the whistle, seeing the engine, and imagining the possibility of “riding the rails.”

There were fellows who had the job of throwing cinders into the firebox, other fellows who had been an engineer and the list goes on. One thing for sure, those of us who remember and cherish the sight and sound of a steam engine will be gone not too far into the future.

In sum, I would say that age accompanied by feelings of awe and appreciation for a powerful but bygone time can evoke feelings of comfort and satisfaction, while eliciting confidence and hope that the world will survive through improvement on a level that encourages human understanding rather than through astonishing complexity. In the meantime, let the steam locomotive simply satisfy all by sending out its lilting whistles.