THE WOMAN IN THE DEPOT

By Ken Heard

The loud freight trains that roar past the Amtrak depot in Walnut Ridge don’t wake her.

The rush of wind from the speeding freights some 40 feet away from the station often blows open the glass door leading to the tracks. In the cold nights, chilled air rushes in, but she doesn’t mind. The woman wraps herself tighter in her blankets and burrows in on the metal bench she calls her bed.

Beneath her are her two dogs, Dan-Dan and Sam. A large bottle of Great Value fruit punch, a bag of crackers and can of soup are near the bench. A hot plate used for cooking sits atop a shelf in the tiny station’s waiting room.

This is her home now, a brief respite for wherever next she may end up.

“I like it here,” she says. “I get to meet a lot of people.”

The woman came to Walnut Ridge earlier this year, looking for a place to stay. A police officer took her to the station and let her sleep there. She repays the city’s kindness by cleaning the waiting area, the two bathrooms and the platform where travelers board the trains. She also picks up trash in the two parking areas.

“I missed it a couple of days,” she says. “There were a lot of cigarette butts to pick up.”

The Texas Eagle, Amtrak’s train that runs daily from Chicago to San Antonio and back, stops in Walnut Ridge in the wee hours of each morning. The southbound Texas Eagle 21 is supposed to roll into the Lawrence County station at 12:37 a.m. The northern train, the Texas Eagle 22 headed to Chicago, is scheduled to arrive in Walnut Ridge at 1:41 a.m.

Often, though, the trains are late, and she hears the wrath of those impatiently waiting in the station on the hard plastic benches.

And here is the contrast: The travelers are rushing off to places for business or to visit families. The clock is important, and it’s vital the trains are running on time, so people can catch the commuter trains out of Chicago or San Antonio.

When those in the waiting room hear the bleating of a train horn approaching the station, they often gather their suitcases, coats and bags and head for the platform. She knows now the difference between a freight train’s wail and Amtrak’s warning horn. If it’s a freight train rather than the Amtrak, the people return to the station angry as the freight blasts through, a reminder that the Amtrak train is late.

The woman, on other hand, at the age of 60, is content to be here and is at peace. For her, the station is one of the better places she’s stayed.

“People ask me questions,” she says. “They may recognize me if they’ve come here before. If they don’t know something about the trains, they’ll ask.”

She also provides homey touches in the station. She placed a decorative plastic croissant roll on a table next to promotional magazines the local Chamber of Commerce displays on a shelf. She also set an apple on a stand.

She buys books at a local flea market and sets them on the shelf. Michael Crichton’s “Eaters of the Dead,” Thomas Hardy’s “Tess of the D’ubervilles” and other classics once sat out for visitors to read during waits for the train. Within a week of their placements, they were gone.

Here is a story shared by many homeless people. She grew up in Lawrence County but has stayed in Possum Grape, Pangburn, Bald Knob, DeValls Bluff, Hoxie and Marked Tree. She also stayed in Oklahoma for 25 years, using the transients’ word “stayed” in towns rather than “lived.” You don’t “live” somewhere if you don’t know when or where your next stop may be.

She’s worked as a cashier, a cleaning lady and a security guard.

The woman feels safe in the station, despite the doors never being locked. Police patrol the lot at night, and the people who wait for trains are decent, other than being miffed if a train is running late.

One night after midnight, a young man passing through town stops at the station and engages in a long conversation with the woman about religion and his life. He had been addicted to drugs but cleaned up after going to a rehab center. He wants to share his story with anyone who will listen. And she’s a good listener.

Later, he helps her walk the dogs along the train tracks.

Soon, the Amtrak train’s whistle blows. The crossing guard bells ring, and the train glides into the station. People get off the train and head to their cars parked in the lot. Within a few minutes, the train rolls off again; the sudden scurrying that breaks up the stillness of the late Walnut Ridge night returns to silence.

She sometimes wonders about the passengers she’s met. Will they see their families? Will they get to their destinations on time? Will she ever see them again?

The woman also thinks about one day getting on the train herself.

“I hear there’s a train that goes around a mountain near Fort Worth,” she says. “I think about that.

“Someday, I’d like ride that train and see what’s on the other side of that mountain.”