I brought Trevor in on the train this morning. As we were waiting at the Elk River Station, I related the story of Gabe, standing with his back to the tracks on a narrow train platform in Connecticut, when a freight train blasted through. Somehow, immersed in the newness of it all, Gabe hadn’t heard it coming. “It scared the bejeebers out of him!” I laughed.
Fifteen minutes later, safely aboard the Northstar, Trevor asks, “Dad, is ‘bejeebers’ just a made-up word, or something real?”
He told me later that he couldn’t imagine what “bejeebers” would be if it was something real that had come from Gabe.
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