o I’m sitting on the porch of the one-time Union Park Community Center / current Orlando N-Trak Train Club. Two acres of probably-needs-to-be-mowed grass stretches out before me, the sun turning it into waving emerald. And I’m thinking, Why do I do this?

This week I’ve been out to this club, thirty minutes and $2.35 in tolls each way, too many times. Monday for Maintenance. Tuesday for a board meeting. Wednesday for the club night. And now it’s Friday, and I’m here to load the trailer when it arrives so we can take our portable layout to a weekend show. Which means tomorrow I need to come out there again to unload. That means nine trips out (one is from the fairgrounds and doesn’t count). Or four-and-a-half hours of driving and over $21.00 in tolls. I’m out here mopping floors, pouring vinegar down the AC pipes,  arranging for lawn cuts, responding to member-triggered alarms, and numerous other things. I’m the club secretary (and have been an officer in one capacity or another for roughly thirty years). I’m in charge of Buildings & Grounds and all that entails. And here I am on a Friday, reading a book on the front porch, waiting for a trailer to load. With fifty-plus members, not a one of them can come out and do this – I’ve been doing it for years.

So I ask myself: Why?

Why bend over backwards when there are plenty of guys younger than me who just show up to run trains once a week and maybe help a little at a show (by running trains).

My dad formed this club back in 1987 and invited me to join a few months later. Back then, everyone worked. It was kinda considered, what’s the word…. “shitty” to let someone else work on something and not pitch in. But now with fifty members, it’s easy enough to fade into the crowd. So I do all this stuff.

And now I’m looking up from my book, wondering why.

Dad was a member for ten years. He and I engaged in model railroading since I was five. Since we were always moving, this was really the first and only club we’d joined. After ten years, he moved away. After twenty, he passed away. And now I’m still doing this task, like Sisyphus, week after week.

Then I saw something in my book I’m reading, something that struck me like a bolt of lighting. In the book (review coming this Sunday), the main character wants to purchase his late father’s favorite local pub and keep running it like it always ran. And he thought about it in these terms…

Maybe it was odd to want to own a pub to keep alive a connection with one’s parent.

That really hit me. I’d kinda thought of this as “Dad’s club” and so I put into it more than I might have gotten out. I’m the senior member and people look up to me for advice and arbitration. And yes, running operations is fun (where can you run a gigantic interactive game with thirty people live and in real space? I’ve made a lot of friendships in this club, and buried a couple of them too. But really, it comes down to it being “Dad’s club” and I’ll do my damnedest to keep it running, no matter how many roof leaks, break ins, fire inspections, layout issues and personality clashes there are (only this year, an ex-member threatened to sue me and slash my tires – very wise to leave that second threat on voice mail. The Orange County Police found it quite amusing), I’ll keep the damn lights on and the trains running.

People had noted that if it wasn’t for me, there probably wouldn’t be an Orlando N-Trak club. And that’s fine. It really wouldn’t have been here without dad, truth be told.

You’d better appreciate this, Pop.

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The boys and their toys. Roof, walls, and a lot of the layout credit to the blogger.