NEWFIE MEMORIES FROM THE PRAIRIES by Hayward J. Prince I was born in the 40's in the small outport of Princeton on Bonavista Bay in Newfoundland, the son of an inshore fisherman. The fond memories related here are of my younger years till age fifteen, when I left home to live in the city. “HERE COMES THE CABOOSE” The other day I was sitting in my car at a railway crossing waiting for the train to rumble by and I had a flashback to the “good old days” when I sat on a rock with a friend and counted the number of cars on the train as it made its way down the Bonavista line, and I would holler to my buddy, “Here comes the caboose”! For the moment my brain was stuck in time because I was actually looking in the distance and expecting the caboose to appear, but then the truth sunk in -- I’m no longer a kid, and the caboose is long gone. There was nothing boring about watching a train go by in the old days. Some cars were black, others green, while the caboose was usually a bright orange; but what made the train so exciting to watch was the people -- the trainmen were “some friendly bunch, bye”, and the passengers too. Actually, it was one big waving experience. First the engineers would wave, then other crewmen, then the passengers, and finally the conductor standing on the rear platform of the caboose would wave till he slowly dwindled out of sight. Getting back to the real world again, I have to tell you that, in my opinion, a train doesn’t look complete without a caboose, just like a minivan or a station wagon doesn’t look complete without a roof rack. In fact, I would go so far as to say that it looks like a peacock with its tail cut off. I know that everything today is based on economics, not on appearances, but what makes me sad is that I will never be able to sit on a rock with my grandchildren, in high anticipation, and finally yell, “Here comes the caboose!”   Submitted By: Hayward Prince