December 25th, 1885

Dear stranger,

I do not know you and you do not know me, but I've come to tell you about the events that have been weighing down on me lately. I find it easier to just write it to a stranger; someone I will never meet than tell of these things to my family.

I had left my family behind me for months and god how they wept when I left. With too many mouths to feed and hardly enough to get by, I had to come here and work for these men who care less whether I live or die. I was uncertain of what lay ahead-aye-I was frightened but I went with no other option laid out before me.

I wondered deep down what God had in store for me-I've always been taught He had a plan for us all-and I prayed to Him for guidance and strength. Several times during my time here I wondered in anger and despair why? But I am a simple man with simple beliefs, someone of my stature should not question above authority.

It seemed like I gave them my heart and soul and still they wanted more, needed more from me. I did what I could. Many good men, young and old, lost their lives for what, I don't think they knew. There was this one Indian boy, I can't remember his name for the life of me, he was killed when some other lads set off dynamite to blast through the rock. How or why he was killed is beyond what I know, it just happened.

How I managed through those years astounds my imagination but I think it was my refusal to give into them. They couldn't break my spirit, they couldn't take that away from me. I couldn't let my dignity be torn to shreds like that.

Despite my resolve to trudge through the harsh realities of the railroad I could not ignore the conditions we worked in. Every season we worked through wind, rain, snow, with the wretched sun burning our necks and backs. I always had a sore back and neck from the work and the exposure to the elements. The camp we lived in was untidy and unsanitary. We got colds easily and everyone suffered from blisters that would not heal properly.

Our meager meals weren't always enough. We were unfortunate enough to get a contractor who didn't care about what we ate and as a result got an unbalanced and monotonous diet. We ate like our lives depended on it; never talking and only raising a head to ask a neighbour to pass something. I remember once a man across from me put a spoon he had just put in his mouth in the sugar. It nearly put me off but after a week or so being here, it became the usual sight around here.

Our pay was never enough either. $1.50 per day was never enough to cover all the costs and payment that was demanded from us. But what I could scrape up was sent back to my wife and children. I wish I could give a life that was better than the one they had now. I never heard them complain but I can see in my son and daughter's eyes that they hate it. Of course they would. They can't have the things that other, richer children have.

I only want what's best but it is not enough in my minds eye. I hate myself for not being able to do enough. I'm sorry.

The company is done with me now. I'm always sore and too tired to do much. My back is worn from the labour I did on the railway which means I'm not much use to my family. I did their dirty work for them and they threw me away without so much as a thank-you. I hope those that ride on those tracks know the blood that was spilled for them.

My dear brother Jonathan has helped me quite a bit since my return home. I can't thank him enough for it. He's the one who's been helping my wife manage the household even though he has his own wife and children to worry about.

I went down to the lumber mill to see if I could get my old job back. Luck was on my side and they gladly took me back. I was so sure that they would reject me that when Mr. McDonnell came back to tell me I was accepted I almost fell out of my chair. The pay is a little less than the railroad, but it's better than nothing.

The railroad has since then been completed. MacDonald got what he wanted in the end. I used to love trains you know; thought they were quite the marvel. My old man was a train engineer and he took me up into the engine with him once. Loved it then but I hate it now. All that trouble for a machine that spews black smoke.

Maybe I'm being too pessimistic. Maybe that railway isn't going to cripple the country like some said it would. Then again, maybe it might.

I'm not sure why I told you all of this. Do whatever you what with what I just told you I could care less. Maybe you'll take a lesson out of it. Maybe you'll tell people that great accomplishments and victories come at a cost.

They always do.

Jack Murdoch