That time in Toronto #photos #derail 

20 02 2017

I was looking through some photos today and this one was full of memories and meaning. It was taken in the Bay Shore area of Saint John, New Brunswick. My Dad used to catch trains out of there all his life, some to McAdam, some down the shore line, and some all the way to Montreal via Brownsville, Maine. 

It was a foggy late afternoon, not unusual for a summer’s day in the coastal Maritimes. Trains were the lifeblood of that port city at one point but eventually they became less necessary as trucking took over. 

I can remember going down to Bay Shore to see my first caboose, otherwise known as a van by the conductors. I saw my first canned water, (water was notoriously undrinkable,) and I remember going there to swim when I was a kid, and one time around 1970 the whole family went down to Bay Shore to see the HMCS Bonaventure one more time before it sailed off to Taiwan to be torched apart for scrap. 

This photo is patience. This photo is solitude. This photo is a sense of impending doom as you rattle along the rails, too fast, on a predetermined route of destiny. 

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