Aspiration is a funny thing.
When I joined our organization in 1992 at 14 years old, I was three years into a deep study of the Maine two foot railroads, developing a particular appreciation for the public service to which these lines committed. As a kid- it was a wonder of the image of a two foot gauge plow train, complete with a caboose full of high-school-kid-helpers, working their butts off two two days straight, all for this mysterious and vague but obviously high calling purpose.
I never put a finger on it as a 12 year old, but I knew it was worthy of living on. So, without knowledge of Harry’s Sheepscot Valley Railroaders in any way, I began writing my 12-year-old version of rebuilding the railway, beginning in Albion. It was an elaborate plan that was all designed from Webb’s Economics of Railroad Construction, 1906. It was childish silliness- complete with analysis of balancing directional freight traffic flows, designing passenger commuter services, and amortizing maintenance costs.
Finally, at 13, I convinced my father to bring me on a tour of the line, beginning of course in Albion. I’d memorized the route of the road from Big Dreams & Little Wheels and Two Feet to Tidewater, so we found many of the nooks and crannies which held evidence. Arriving in Alna, pulling down Cross Road, I expected to find what I’d found everywhere else- barely discernible abandoned right of way crossed by a modern road.
Instead- there was 1/3 of Harry’s train shed, complete with 60’ of two foot gauge track. A single information sheet presented the Sheepscot Valley Railroaders mission: Rebuild the Railway.
I have many memories of Harry Percival. Most of them are fabulous and treasured. Relaxing comfortably in an empty wheelbarrow as he chatted with my father and I the first time I met him. Making a wild concoction of a lunch in bay 1 cafe “hey let’s add an egg! Sure! Hey let’s add some bbq sauce! Sure!” Looking up at from the brookville at Harry’s broad, proud smile after he and I, alone, managed to dump it 8’ down the embankment just above Sheepscot station (on Monday, February 20, 1995). Seeing loco 9 for the first time in Alice’s barn on a private trip with Harry. On the return trip, seeing Harry’s wild eyes as they met mine- he’d just got into the driver’s seat of the car adjacent his own while I waited in his passenger seat at the grocery store.
I got a great many things from Harry. Not the least of which was sharing a dream, separately born but grown together. What stands above all- the most important thing I learned from Harry has nothing to do with the railroad. Value your dreams. He never said this to me. He never had to. It was an implicit part of our relationship.
My childhood fantasy was his when he was a child. At 14 years old, Harry “borrowed” his dad’s lumber and began rebuilding the railroad on the old grade behind their red cape in Head Tide (yes, THAT red cape).
Harry didn’t just teach me to dream and keep dreaming, he taught me to believe in dreams. Harry taught me to aspire. Without Harry- my childhood fantasy paper on how to rebuild the railroad would be left behind as just that- just as most others in my life have advised to let go of fantasy. Instead- that paper was a first draft.
As to the Museum- we advance on the shoulders of those who have given so much to support Harry’s aspirations.
Aspiration is a funny thing. With support, it becomes a lifetime.
