Taking the written word into the real world

This has been a sad week in the Milwaukee area, especially in regard to trains.

Last Friday a man died when he drove his pickup into the path of a Wisconsin & Southern train in Hartford, Wis. Clearly, the investigation is still in its early phases, so no formal report has been issued, but officials did find half of a flip-type cell phone on the locomotive’s porch. It’s not a huge stretch to wonder how big a part distraction played in this man’s death. 

And then another horrible incident happened this past Monday morning. An 11-year-old boy was on his way to school when he walked in front of a Canadian Pacific train in Wauwatosa, Wis., and died a short time later. Again, no formal report, but he was wearing headphones and a hooded sweatshirt covering his ears and limiting his visual range. Reports also state he was looking down as he walked. 

When this man and boy left their homes, their loved ones had no idea it would be the last time they heard their voices or walked through those doors. And I suspect neither of the victims had a clue they were about to be hit — mainly because they just weren't aware of their surroundings.

Certainly, neither of the crews on those trains knew how their workday would end. In the otherwise ordinary course of their day, they became unwitting and unwilling participants in someone else's nightmare. In my nearly 13 years of railroad journalism, I’ve met many working railroaders, some of whom have been involved in incidents like these, and many others who know it’s just a matter of time until they are. Obviously, they can’t focus on it or they’d never be able to do their jobs, but surely it resides somewhere in the back of their mind every time they climb the ladder and take their seat. 

So here I sit at my desk, Friday afternoon. We’ve met all our deadlines for the May issue, and now I have time to think, here at the crossroads where journalism and railroading meet.

Journalists, by nature, are curious sorts, but at our core, most of us go into the field because we want to make a difference. We won’t cure cancer or even a common cold, but we’ll keep our eyes and ears open and spread the word as soon as someone does. Working at a enthusiast magazine, the Trains staff strives to entertain, to inform, to take you back to memories of your youth, and set your mind free to contemplate the future of this industry we love so much. In that regard, I believe we make a difference to our readers — at least I hope we do. 

But that isn’t quite enough anymore. In the news reports about the boy in Wauwatosa, I saw a photograph of a train crewman looking out through the window of their locomotive. I don’t know if he was the engineer or conductor, but I’ll never forget the look on his face. I hope I never experience that level of pain. 

Now the little voice that whispers in my ears when it wants me to write about something isn’t whispering anymore. It isn’t even shouting. It’s grabbing me around the throat and screaming in my face. 

“You wanted to make a difference!! Are you??” Then it seems to throw me down in disgust and start to walk away. I can write ’til my hands fall off and my head is spinning with information begging to be committed to type, but I can’t change the fact that two people died from unexpected contact with trains less than 45 minutes from my home. I eat and shop mere blocks from the grade crossing in Wauwatosa where this boy lost his life. I can’t ignore that, but I also can’t write it out of my head and heart. Sometimes it takes more than words to make a difference.

So Tuesday afternoon I contacted the Operation Lifesaver coordinator for Wisconsin and told her I wanted to be a presenter. The next time we have a training class, I’ll be in it. I have the privilege of working with some other OLI presenters, so I told them about my decision. First I told Kevin Keefe, our VP editorial (and former Trains editor and publisher), and he brought me in his OLI manual so I could begin learning.

Then I told Tom Hoffman, our librarian, and he was also very excited. He said we don’t have many presenters here, and the region could use more. 

I looked at the Federal Railroad Administration’s website to get a better idea of railroad safety in Wisconsin. The website lists all manner of safety data, but I’m looking specifically at highway-rail incidents and those involving trespassers — the types of incidents that involve the general public and that Operation Lifesaver aims to reduce. Last year, six people died in Wisconsin as a result of a highway-rail crash, and another 16 were injured. Altogether, Wisconsin had 50 incidents at public crossings, up from 28 in 2010.

Another five people were injured trespassing on railroad property not at a crossing, and an additional seven died. This is just so wrong. These people didn’t need to die.

I don’t know if anyone I talk to about safety around the tracks will be saved as a result, but I have to try. If there’s the slightest chance I can help someone be more aware of their surroundings and not cross into a train’s path or avoid having to bury their loved ones, or keep even one engineer or conductor from experiencing that sense of helplessness and grief, I will have accomplished my goal. 

So here I still sit, now Friday evening, watching the snow beginning to fall and wondering if the friends and family members of that child will still hold their vigil tonight. It’s too late to save this child. His family members and friends are going to mourn their loss for a very long time. But I hope both these horrible incidents will raise awareness of safety around railroads and their tracks. 

Do you have a little voice nagging at you? Whispering in your ear that you can do something to help? Go to FRA’s website (http://safetydata.fra.dot.gov/officeofsafety/publicsite/Query/tenyr2a.aspx) and see how your state is doing with railroad safety. Visit Operation Lifesaver’s website (http://oli.org) to see how you can help. We’re already familiar with railroading and know that as fascinating as they are, trains can also be very dangerous. Join me?