A train track runs through the Rock River Valley below my house, and a couple of times a day a short train rolls through. Sometimes, just the engine, a red one, chugs by.
When I hear the train coming I yell, “Chooch!” and my four-year-old daughter Iris puts down her book and comes running. Then I scoop her up, and we run out to the edge of the yard, where we can look down through the trees at the red engine.
We wave at the engineer, and yell, “Hi Chooch,” but the engineer never sees us. He does give a little toot when he crosses Bass Creek Road.