Several years ago, my brother-in-law's brother Jim decided to make a career change and began working as part of a diesel locomotive crew -- in what capacity, I've forgotten, now. Not terribly long after he began his duties, a very disturbing incident occurred just outside one the many small towns to be found along the route in this part of the mid-west.

A man was spotted lying down on the track bed; whether he was alive or dead was not determinable, at this point. Unfortunately, there was not enough track remaining to execute a complete stop before the engine would roll over this poor soul. Just before the horrific connection between man and locomotive, Jim saw the guy glance up, making eye contact with him -- or so he was convinced of at the time. I can't imagine what a dreadful feeling that would have been. But this is not the strangest and most disturbing part of this grisly tale.

The other members of the crew, all veterans of the railroad, took this who incident in a rather casual and nonchalant fashion. This kind of occurrence happened not too infrequently, apparently, the majority of them considered suicides. I certainly could think of far more inviting ways to "off" myself.

After the train came to stop, came the ghastly task of searching for the remains. As the crew walked the tracks, a crowd quickly gathered to observe the action. What's even more bizarre, is many of them brought lawn chairs and beverages as if they setting up to watch a ball game or some other normal "spectator" event. This is not one I'd consider for that category, quite frankly. I suppose life gets boring in these little burgs, so any opportunity to gather with friends and punch a hole in the usual hum-drum routine is quickly seized. It's all way too ghoulish and disrespectful for me to even consider being acceptable behavior, though.

Even as a child, I felt there was something inherently wrong in running after firetrucks, then standing around socializing while someone's house burned to the ground. While growing up, we had neighbors across the street who would literally run out of their house, jump into their truck, and follow the sound of the sirens. I'm not making this up, I swear.

Sure, this all just human nature. Tragic events, car wrecks, etc...we can't help wanting to watch dramatic events going on around us. Still, turning a search for mangled body parts into something akin to a backyard barbecue is some creepy stuff, folks. If I ever degenerate to that point, it just might be time to consider sprawling out on the railroad tracks, myself.