Chapter XI

The next few years blended together. Mike went to school, helped his grandmother in the store, helped take care of his mother, and did chores galore for his father. Whenever he had a chance to spend some quiet time alone, he enjoyed it. He had a few favorite spots. There was the fallen oak tree where he could sit and watch lizards sun themselves; the little bush next to the train tracks (and under the power lines)—thanks to a covering of vines it was like an igloo inside; and several nice spots in the woods close to home.

In search of solitude, Mike often walked on the train tracks. One day Mike walked well past the power lines, farther than he had ever gone before. He was exploring. He walked past a huge cow pasture and could see an ancient bridge in the distance. He wanted to climb up on it. Then he heard the train whistle off in the distance. The train was coming! He wasn’t supposed to be on the tracks and didn’t want to get caught. He'd been told the engineer stopped to arrest people he saw on the tracks. Mike headed for home at a slow jog.

Is was cool and damp outside, so Mike was wearing a jacket that day. He started to get overheated as he jogged down the tracks, so he unzipped his jacket. The cool air felt good. He heard the train whistle again and looked back. It had already come around the curve in the tracks—the engineer could see him. He needed to run. Mike took off as fast as his 8 year-old legs could carry him. His heart was pounding and he was now gasping for breath—the effect of fear combined with exertion. The train was getting closer. He didn’t want to jump off the tracks because the ditches on both sided were filled with cold, stagnant water. He kept running…and the train kept getting closer. Mike was still far from home.

Finally, the train was upon him. He had no choice, he leaped as hard as he could, hoping to make it over the water and into the woods. He didn’t make it. He escaped the train, but landed in the water. He quickly disappeared into the woods, so the engineer wouldn't get him, and made his way home.

Once there, he went into the cellar to change into clean clothes from the dryer. He laid his jacket out to dry and went upstairs. His throat hurt and so did his chest. He shouldn’t have been out on such a damp day, but didn’t want to stay inside. The next morning he woke up with a fever and a terrible cough. He had bronchitis. His mom sent him to his grandmother’s—she would take care of him. She put him to bed under a mountain of blankets. He could hardly move, but it was a nice feeling. She also made a mustard plaster to put on his chest. She said it would help draw out the infection.

She kept him hydrated, used a cool cloth (damp with water and rubbing alcohol) to ease his fever and gave him all sorts of medicine. Mike paid attention. He wanted to know what he was taking and why. She gave him Tylenol tablets and two liquids—one an antihistamine and the other a decongestant. Aside from the smelly mustard plaster, the worst part was when his grandmother put Vick’s vaporub up his nose and made him swallow a small amount. Yuck!

Now Mike knew what to do the next time he got a fever, chest cold or bronchitis. Whenever he woke up in the middle of the night with a fever, he'd put cold water and rubbing alcohol on a wash cloth to place on his forehead. For a chest cold, he'd give himself a teaspoon (or was that a tablespoon?) of decongestant and a half teaspoon of antihistamine. He wouldn’t be dependent on anyone.

And the next time he was on the tracks when the train came, he wouldn’t worry about getting home or into the woods. He would simply stand to the side until the train passed—he’d learned that he didn’t need to worry about the engineer stopping the train to grab him. As with most things in life, he just needed to get out of the way.