The Holiday Lights Train is bedecked in colored lights.  Lighted spheres of blue or white and disco balls hang from the ceiling in the outdoor cars.   The indoor cars are more subdued, but still are invited into the spectacle with the walking tour of Santa and Mrs. Claus and the elves that give kids stickers and blow bubbles to the evening’s delight.  Red and white rope lights make posts into candy canes and “icicles” line the top of the coaches.

Walking from the parking lot towards the train is a treat.  Neptune’s Kingdom, also bedazzled with Christmas lights, is the backdrop to this fantastic and classic lighted train.  Inside, on the way to the will call box, to pick up the $22/$17 dollar tickets, the sights and sounds of a miniature golf course, upright games of luck and skill, mechanized fortune-tellers and a photo op with Santa Claus come to life on a dark December night.

Outside, in the long line to board the nearly always sold out train, peddlers, armed with cans of whipped cream, sell hot cocoa from insulated warmer packs on their backs.  The train runs from the Boardwalk, a half hour up the tracks and a half hour back touring the West side of Santa Cruz.  The Holiday Lights Train boards, departs and the journey begins.

Santa Cruz inhabitants stand outside their lighted homes and wave to the train, cars waiting at the crossings wave to the train, there is someone standing with a video camera taping the trains journey to feature on the web.

Small songbooks sit on the wooden benches outside or on the cushioned seats indoors and a live act singing Frosty the Snowman or Silver Bells comes over the speakers and encourages riders to sing along.  Children gather for a rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and environmentally friendly soapsuds emitted from the top of the train look like snow to the untrained eye.

The first landmark in the darkness after downtown  is the long crude tunnel that smells like diesel fuel.  Train participants hope the train doesn’t break down in there.  Then, there is the bridge scaffolding where empty bottles of beer are set.  Exit folks waving to the train outside their cozily lit homes and enter unkempt gentlemen waving to the train from their bikes or from under a blanket on the corner next to the short chain linked fence.

Further on the train ride, there is the industrial area of Santa Cruz, viewed from behind.  Semi-trucks, inoperative school buses and a septic truck are visible from the jaunty lighted train.   Then, all goes dark, as the journey reaches the woods.  It is quiet and looking down, there are car lights traveling the night on Highway 9.

After reaching the destination 30 minutes up the track, the train heads home to the lighted Boardwalk, Neptune’s Kingdom and Casino.  It is later in the evening and on the way back, in the industrial section, while Christmas carols are merrily ringing and hot vassal is being sipped on the jolly train, there are sleeping bags instead of stockings filled with warm bodies instead of candy canes lying on the cement stoop of an abandoned building.  It is 7:30 and there are 4 or 5 of the well-used sleeping bags lying there, by 9 at night there may be more.

The train travels back under the scaffolding of the bridge and into the smelly tunnel, patrons begin waving to the cars at the crossing and to the friendly villagers outside their quaintly lit houses in the city.  Then the train stops and riders de-board, careful to watch their step, at the Boardwalk down by the sea.

Sally begins to cry.  If Jeff likes Sally he will go to her, comfort her and take her inside.  Perhaps Jeff’s mom will offer them each a cup of hot cocoa with small marshmallows floating on top or a piling heap of whipped cream settled there.  The snowball fight will be over and Sally and Jeff will be sipping cups of hot cocoa together in silence before the fire.  Jeff will have a smug smile on his face and will think he is a winner for he is sitting beside Sally on the couch thinking about holding her hand.

If Jeff likes Sally a lot or if Jeff doesn’t like Sally at all, Jeff will be inspired by Sally’s tears and will keep up his attack.  Sally yells at Jeff to cut it out.  Jeff continues to pelt Sally with snowballs.  Jeff is chortling mightily.  Done crying, Sally gets mad.  Sally ferociously attacks Jeff with snowballs fearlessly advancing on him until she is 3 feet away and Jeff is cowering on the ground for her to yield him uncle.

Through white rimmed brows, Sally’s eyes sparkle.  Her cheeks are rosy and she is breathing heavily with exertion.  Jeff watches the mist billow from her mouth.  Now, Jeff either hates Sally further or likes her all that much more.  The snowball is in Sally’s court.  If Sally likes Jeff, she will kick him and stand there.  If Sally does not like Jeff, she will locate some yellow snow nearby, rub it in his face and walk away.

Zach and John watched in rapt wonderment as the balls traveled down the curvy slide then got them out of the hole. Zach put his gumball in his mouth. John began to lick his. Zach took a couple chews, enough to get the saliva flowing and spit the pink spitball onto the floor mat near the exit. I picked the gumball up with a tissue and wiped the remaining pink residue off the carpet. Zach grabbed the sticky mass out of my hand and put it back in his mouth. John put his gumball in his mouth and began to chew. We made it out of the store. John took the orange spitball out of his mouth told me he wanted me to make it a puffy magic wonder, or some such. “You want me to chew it up for you?” I thought to myself. So I did there on the sidewalk in front of the store. I handed the gum back to him. He immediately dropped it on the sidewalk. Soon after, both gums found the trash can and the kids wiped their hands with the tissues that now reside in every jacket pocket that I own.

We walked past the guitar player and the saxophone player on the way to the bench in front of the glass store. No way I’d take them in there. The bench was a good place to rest. It was orange, hard plastic. John found a jewel yellow old hairbrush behind the bench and the kids briefly fought over this new treasure until I told them to put it back. We went to the fountain in front of the newer Museum across from Trader Joe’s. They threw a few pennies in. “Have you seen the trains?” asked a passerby with a 5 year old in tow. We went in and the kids ran an electric train or two, filled their eyes and ears with the candy that is running trains at Christmas then spied the Thomas train table in the corner. There were other children playing. I sat, hungry, for the better part of an hour watching my children, angels, play perfectly with the others. A 4 ft. thin faux Christmas tree in the corner I named “the menace” toppled onto at least 3 children while I sat, I kept replacing it, Zach tripped over the cord and unplugged it once.

We left the trains and went to Trader Joe’s for some butter. We still have marshmallow crispies to make with the pink and green marshmallows Zach picked out at the store. Mushroom turnovers were being taste tested there at TJ’s. Both kids dug in. A third of the way down the cereal aisle, Zach spit his onto the floor. “I won’t take it personally”, the lady behind the turnover counter said. I broke out the tissues. John, mouth full, showed me his mess, he wanted to spit it out too, tissues. We got our goods and left Trader Joe’s, the checkers are so friendly there. “Little dude” and “Brother” he called them. The car was parked close and I was glad to see it.

Our friend recently got 4 chickens. Two of the four ended up roosters, the 3rd has scoliosis, something of a curved spine, and Zach still talks about the 4th and how she went after the zipper pulls on his pants like they were worms. So, with 5 chickens in all, Missy has fertilized eggs.

Today, we brought 2 eggs home from Missy’s per John’s request. I put them in the nest in our coop. Buffington has not sat on them. She is molting and looks terrible, she’s lost a good portion of her feathers. I had a hunch she wouldn’t sit on the nest since she’s not laying eggs. Red Chicken died recently and since then, I believe the stress of her loss has been enough that she’s stopped laying. Chickens stop laying during the cold months sometimes too, they also stop laying when they are molting.