Shining Time: My Early Years

 The Beginning

I remember driving home with my parents to the farm. It was late at night and I remember being in the car, with the first few episodes of Shining Time Station floating in my mind. I don't know if I had just watched it for the first time or if I watched it when we came home - but something stuck.

I remember my Grandma, Betty, telling me about the show for the first time. "It takes place in a magical train station", she said. "There's a puppet band inside a jukebox that plays railroad songs". And, of course, there was Thomas.

Being about 4 years old at the time, I was already well into Thomas The Tank Engine & Friends. I remember renting the VHSs of "Thomas Gets Tricked" and "James Learns A Lesson" from the video store and library early on. That obsession was sealed.

STS was something new. It involved people: people who felt, cried, got angry, created things, and tried their best to keep a small station on the Indian Valley Railroad alive.

I was compelled by the nurturing of the show. During a time when my parents marriage was falling apart and divorce loomed heavy, STS became a safe haven.

I would return to it, again and again. I was so comforted by the repetition of the stories. It was unwavering; I could turn on the TV, put in a tape and know that I was watching the same thing every time. And it felt good. The human connection felt real, the music brought me alive. I remember taping all the songs from one VHS onto an audio cassette using my brother's tape recorder so that I could listen to the songs while I did my homework or put away the dishes.

Over the years, my Grandma ended up recording most episodes of all 3 seasons of the show onto 6 VHS tapes. We had a running joke. Whenever I saw my grandparents for a visit, my Grandma would bring up the show. "I still watch it!" I would say. And they would smile - never with judgement but with understanding. They loved that I loved it. I also recall my Grandma saying how much she enjoyed the show: "I watch it while I'm taping it for you", she would say. She joined in the fun. It was something special that we could share.

I kept watching these episodes well into my teens, even though liking trains or kids shows wasn't considered "cool" (I always stood out from the crowd, anyway.) I was drawn in by the character of Stacy Jones, the manager of the station. She was energetic, gutsy, incredibly sweet and gentle - if not a little distracted and excitable at times. She made mistakes but she was also unfailingly kind - a lot like my own mom.

I feel raised by this show. I realize that statement might shock some. This show is by no means perfect, and that's not to say that my parents did not lovingly raise me. But this filled in the gaps. It elevated the good things in my life. I shared snippets of the show with my family and it touched them. Some people didn't get it, which hurt, but that was okay. Nothing could take it away.

I felt a lot impermanence around my early years. My whole life was changing as my parents' marriage unravelled. I couldn't make sense of divorce. I did what most kids do and blamed myself. I buried that deep behind layers of pain. At 34, I am now able to safely access some of that pain - feel into it, hold it, and look at it with compassion.

Oddly, or quite appropriately, STS has crept back into my life again. It had always been there but now it is bigger. I rescued and restored the jukebox (see previous post), sharing the story with Grandma. She recently died on her 95th birthday. Some months before her passing, I told her about what I was doing; she remembered the show, but couldn't remember the jukebox. Watching her try and recall the memory was like watching somebody chasing steam.

My Grandma and Me

I am coping with a lot of change, still. Loss and discovery, all amidst a pandemic that is levelling the world and testing everyone. Honestly, it feels a little bit like when my parents divorced. My whole world changed in drastic ways, and I had to go along with it. Or die. That's what it felt like. These decisions could make or break my life.

And then, there was Shining Time Station. In the wake of intense pain and tragedy, there was magic. There was a little man who could disappear and reappear at will, taking the whole world of Thomas & Friends in his pocket. What whimsy! A station full of loving (and eccentric!) adults, as well as relatable children. I could learn alongside these kids each time with their learning. I never felt patronized - I felt honoured. "That could be me", I thought. 

Photo credit: Britt Allcroft

I suppose that's why this show matters so much to me. As a therapist who now works with kids, my work has become about honouring children. It feels like it has come full circle.

I want to thank everyone involved in the creation of this show, from a deep place of appreciation. It taught me that love can endure change. People can yell but they will still love you. Your parents will fail but it will not be your undoing. Anyone can create beautiful things. Magic exists in the most unlikely of places. Heck - magic exists! What a message. The power of belief has led me to a strong spiritual faith, a comfort when everything around me feels messy and uncontrollable. Change doesn't feel like life or death anymore.

I never want to forget what it feels like to be a child. I never want to lose touch with the child parts of myself again. This show helps me do that. And to that I owe my gratitude.

"Shining time" is a term old timers on the railroad used to use to describe the morning sunlight shining on the rails. Never knowing what it meant before, it just feels right - doesn't it?

Graphic credit: Jacob K. Hill Jr.