His name was Eli. He had worked the very trains that used to cross this bridge fifty years prior. As we drank the warm soda (his cooler had no ice; he insisted ice made the drink "cry"), he told me about the summer of 1968. He had been a brakeman. He spoke of the rhythm of the rails, the smell of coal dust, and the way the bridge would sing under the weight of a locomotive.
For many people, summer vacation is a time of great anticipation. The thought of sleeping in, spending long days outdoors, and enjoying leisurely activities with friends and family is a tantalizing prospect. As the days grow longer and warmer, the excitement builds, and before long, the freedom of summer is upon us. -PRED-274- A beautiful memories during summer v...