I'm Proud to be a FOAMITE from FORT GARLAND ...

While visiting Karl Hovinitz at his beautiful 7½"-gauge Bitter Creek Western RR near Oceano last
Sunday, I got into a serious discussion with him as to the meaning of life, the crucial importance
of Dark Olive Green boiler jackets to Spiritual Well-Being, and their critical role in leading us Cur-
mudgeons and Foamites from Purgatory onto the Road to Redemption.

Probably the most important result of our discussion was to finalize the definition of "F.O.A.M.I.T.E." - a sub-class of humanity, distinct from FoamERs - to which I readily admit belonging:

Fanatically Obsessed Addle-pated Madmen Instigating Train Excursions.

*****

Inspired by our talk, I penned (well - thought up, anyway) yet another number to possibly be given its world premier at the Railroad Song Sing-Along on the front porch at Foster's Hotel in Chama during the Celebration in August:

"Mamas, don't let yore chilluns grow up to be Foamers!
Raise 'em up to be Brakemen, Conductors an' such ...
Mamas, don't let your chillun's buy digital Cameras!
Keep tri-pods and light-meters well away from their touch."

(Note that this is to the tune of "Mamas don't let your children grow up to be Cowboys", whereas the single line used for the subject, above, would be sung to "Oakie from Muscogie".)

That's about as far as I've gotten so far, so it's up to Skip, Ed, Festus and the rest of you to complete the first verse and add at least two or three more.

- Russo

Note edit, 04/05/10 - "Fredonia" was generating too many questions, plus it's not a real word - at least according to the NGDF dictionary.
Besides, a certain bowler-hatted engineer (really a Foamite - NOT a Foamer - at heart) passes through Fort Garland several times a week ... usually on a train!



Edited 7 time(s). Last edit at 04/06/2010 12:49AM by Russo Loco.