by Jack Brummet
Growing up, I lived on the wrong side of the tracks; worse...we were actually situated between the two sets of railroad tracks that bisect downtown Kent. Every night, I'd hear the 1:13, 2:45, and 3;58 freight trains pass along the tracks a couple blocks away.
It felt so lonely being awake in the early morning, hearing that mournful distant horn become a deep throaty scream as it thundered by the railroad crossings throughout town.
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