My adventure at the Old Milwaukee train depot saying goodbye to my Hill cousins

A Fond Memory from the Milwaukee Train Depot: A Lesson in Vigilance

In 1961, amidst the bustling excitement of a lively train depot in Minneapolis, my childhood was graced with a bittersweet farewell. Our family gathered to say goodbye to the Hill family—Jack and June, along with their three spirited kids, Skip, Pam, and Lance—who were on their way back to the California naval base due to Uncle Jack’s duty in the Navy. As the adults exchanged hugs and last-minute instructions, I felt the familiar tug of curiosity pulling me away from the crowd.

I had always been fascinated by trains. The sight of the large, gleaming locomotives and the rhythmic sound of the steam soothed my young soul. So, it didn’t take much for me to slip away, driven by that childlike wonder. The moment my feet touched the ground near the passenger cars, I felt so small—like a midget surrounded by giants. The towering compartments loomed above me, tantalizing and inviting.

As I approached the passenger car, my heart raced with anticipation. Climbing up into that carriage felt monumental. I was exploring a world that belonged to someone else, and for a fleeting moment, I lost track of time. I can’t say how long I was gone; it felt like forever, but in reality, it was likely just a few short minutes. However, those minutes stretched into an eternity for my parents, who were left standing at the platform.

Later in life, I confronted my dad with a curious question: “What were you and mom thinking when I disappeared?” His response sent a shiver down my spine. They were gripped by fear, imagining the worst—a child slipping under the train, getting lost in the crowd, or worse yet, never making it back to them.

Reflecting on that day, I often think of the movie *Home Alone*. It’s a comical adventure that captures the chaos of family life, yet there’s underlying truth in the panic of misplaced responsibility. How could the McAllisters forget their son? But I realize now that life can be overwhelming, and in mere moments, vigilance can slip through even the most attentive parents’ fingers.

In the era we live in, where every outing can be fraught with unforeseen dangers, this memory serves as a timely reminder. It’s essential to stay aware of where our children are and to never let them out of sight, especially in public spaces. Child predators, unfortunately, thrive in the chaos of crowded places where a moment of distraction can lead to devastating consequences.

So, as I reminisce about that long-ago day at the train depot, I hold closely to the lesson I learned both in innocence and experience: cherish those precious moments, but let vigilance guide you. Our children rely on us to keep them safe, and sometimes, those little adventures can teach us monumental lessons about life and responsibility.