Mukilteo Musings

Natural Disasters-Part 3

Well, well, I have delayed writing Part 3 so here goes. One week after the big eruption, Dave and I decided to get out of the city and go the opposite direction of Mount St. Helens for the three day Memorial Day weekend. We headed to the Olympic Peninsula with our dog and stayed in the small fishing village of Seiku. Something was profoundly weird that weekend--we both felt it--an uncomfortableness. Mt. St. Helens had another smaller eruption and in the morning after our first night, a slight layer of ash covered everything--this time the ash traveled the opposite direction. Simply, we were not having fun; a Washington State Patrol seemed to be following us so we left for home. In those days, being watched by the police was not terribly unusual because we looked like hippies but it was still giving us the creeps.

At home the phone calls started pouring in. My Dad, age 56, had had a massive heart attack. The weekend was spent constantly shocking him to try to revive him and he was not expected to live. We had not told anyone where we were going and Dave's parents had notified the authorities to try and find us--hence the WSP on our tail. With no time to drive to Montana, I flew to Helena. Evidently, my Dad had spent the week walking to and from the Junior High in the swirling ash with a handkerchief over his mouth. He had heart disease despite a good diet and exercise. His heart issues were caused by smoking; I hereby thank our military and the tobacco companies for pushing free cigarettes during World War II. Nevertheless, the damage Marlboro started, Mount St. Helens finished.

My Dad was actually quite his normal self for the few days I was in Helena. Ever the science teacher, we had fabulous discussions about the big eruption and interestingly about the Shroud of Turin which was featured in the National Geographic. He explained how he was kind of above himself over the bed while they were shocking him with the paddles. My Mom and I brought Rufus, my parents' Golden Retriever, to the hospital window so he could see his beloved master. He told me walking in the ash had given him chest pains all week but he could not take time away from working on the next year's school schedule to deal with it. So, he didn't tell my Mom. I knew he loved me and was proud--he told all of the nurses I was a lawyer in Seattle. He knew I loved and adored him. I flew back to Seattle and quietly cried the whole time because I knew I would never see him again.

Two months later on July 19, 1980, my Mom called. It was over. Dave drove and I spewed my grief during the entire 11 hour drive to Montana. Looking out the car window around Moses Lake, WA, I saw the tons of pale gray ash swirling everywhere. How completely surreal!!! I would never see him again or talk to him; he would never know our children! What?? We were not going to have children; but yes, it looked like death and hell out of that car window; the last two months had felt like death and hell. New life--children are life and the perpetuation of family and important. We should have children. And I cried and I cried like I had never cried before.

The funeral was July 22 and packed full of Junior High age children who loved my Dad. Ironically, Mount St. Helens had a fairly sizeable eruption again on that day. A few days later, we spread my father's own ashes in the Missouri River at his favorite fishing spot. The very minute we did that a bald eagle soared overhead. I had never seen a bald eagle before at Beaver Creek. A beautiful bald eagle--how my father would love to be an eagle fishing for all of eternity.

No, I will never forget the eruption of Mount St. Helens.