My wife and I liked to drive the scenic route along the Mississippi. Occasionally we would visit the site of a dam. Talk about neat places. The whole operation always looked "ready for inspection". Nothing was out of place in the buildings and parking lots. Except tons and tons of old wood that had drifted down the river and was piling up against the concrete.
From the huge area of upper America and the Missouri River you get a lot of wood. So why am I writing about this at 1:32 in the morning? It certainly is not because I am worried about driftwood that accumulates at the dams. Even if I was, I learned how these neat operators handle that problem.
On top of the dam there is a length of rails and a nifty rolling crane. It lowers a device that grips the logs and then they are loaded into a little car and hauled away. So much for the drifted wood.
Now for the reason I awoke and am writing this. You see, I have a kind of "driftwood" problem of my own. I'll be 78 today. You can pick up a lot of mental "wood" in that time. Enough so you can't sleep at night. It won't let you.
Mine is not oaks and ashs and willows though. They were once beautiful trees. My detrius is not so nice. So you see why I really need a little railroad to capture and haul away my accumulated sorrows and regrets.
I know the remedies well. They are how I make it through the night and through the day. But they sometimes are not enough. So that is why I am up and writing to you this at such an early hour.