Monday, August 27, 2007
Only In Seattle
Several items have caught my attention and deserve to be in a list.
1. Only in Seattle does the Honey Bucket man have blue hair....to match his Honey Buckets. Around here, the portable toilets used at construction sites or county fairs seem to be monopolized by the "Honey Bucket" company. This may be a brand name but it is as common as the word "Kleenex" is for tissue. Honey Buckets are bright blue. On my street, two new houses with fabulous views are being built on previously blackberry covered steep lots. Right on the sidewalk are Honey Buckets. Unfortunately, during my daily walks, Apolo enjoys sniffing around them and I am always paranoid some worker guy will step out zipping his fly to be greeted by my grinning panting puppy with the crotch level nose. Anyway, the other day, the Honey Bucket suck it truck was doing its hose thing when I noticed the Honey Bucket guy had bright blue hair. At first, I thought the usually absent sun had been in my eyes but nope. His hair matched the Honey Bucket he was cleaning out. And then I decided if I had that particular job, I'd dye my hair blue, too.
2. Only in Seattle will you get a ticket for honking your car horn. Seattle culture dictates that it is rude and impolite to honk your car horn. We were having dinner the other night with a couple here on sabbatical from New York and they could not get over how quiet our traffic is. However, sometimes when you are behind some idiot on a cell phone and the light turns green and they continue to blab away, it feels good to lay on the horn. But in Seattle, you could get a $124 ticket for doing just that. So says my newspaper today. Not only do we not honk our horns, but it is illegal to do so. And get this: New York has the exact same law. This poor guy in downtown Seattle did what I just described and a motorcycle cop pulled him over. He did not get a ticket but he did get a warning. I am a stickler for laws and rules and I do not jay walk but even I have honked my horn from time to time when someone does not notice the light is green. http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/329092_honk27.html
3. Only in Seattle does the unpopular president arrive in town and make himself even more unpopular. What is he thinking? Oh, I forgot. He doesn't think. During rush hour, like right this minute, they are completely shutting down one of our two freeways for his motorcade. His approval rating in the Seattle area is maybe 10% but later this evening it will be zero, I guarantee. For the life of me, I do not understand why Congressman Reichert is allowing Bush here to campaign for him. It is giving a big boost to his Democratic challenger---especially if the pres ties up our already ridiculous traffic.
http://www.king5.com/topstories/stories/NW_082707WAB_bush_visit_SW.75715af0.html
4. And finally, only in Seattle, can we use our heated car seats in August. Our Honda Pilot has heated leather seats. To me, this is the ultimate in luxury. I hate being cold. We had summer for one day this year and I believe it was the day or two after the 4th of July. Occasionally, the sun shines but it has been breezy, cool and misty a good share of the time. So in August in Seattle, I drive around with my leather seat set on high and I love it.
Downtown Seattle taken by me last Tuesday night from the front door of the Purple Wine Bar and Cafe.
Several items have caught my attention and deserve to be in a list.
1. Only in Seattle does the Honey Bucket man have blue hair....to match his Honey Buckets. Around here, the portable toilets used at construction sites or county fairs seem to be monopolized by the "Honey Bucket" company. This may be a brand name but it is as common as the word "Kleenex" is for tissue. Honey Buckets are bright blue. On my street, two new houses with fabulous views are being built on previously blackberry covered steep lots. Right on the sidewalk are Honey Buckets. Unfortunately, during my daily walks, Apolo enjoys sniffing around them and I am always paranoid some worker guy will step out zipping his fly to be greeted by my grinning panting puppy with the crotch level nose. Anyway, the other day, the Honey Bucket suck it truck was doing its hose thing when I noticed the Honey Bucket guy had bright blue hair. At first, I thought the usually absent sun had been in my eyes but nope. His hair matched the Honey Bucket he was cleaning out. And then I decided if I had that particular job, I'd dye my hair blue, too.
2. Only in Seattle will you get a ticket for honking your car horn. Seattle culture dictates that it is rude and impolite to honk your car horn. We were having dinner the other night with a couple here on sabbatical from New York and they could not get over how quiet our traffic is. However, sometimes when you are behind some idiot on a cell phone and the light turns green and they continue to blab away, it feels good to lay on the horn. But in Seattle, you could get a $124 ticket for doing just that. So says my newspaper today. Not only do we not honk our horns, but it is illegal to do so. And get this: New York has the exact same law. This poor guy in downtown Seattle did what I just described and a motorcycle cop pulled him over. He did not get a ticket but he did get a warning. I am a stickler for laws and rules and I do not jay walk but even I have honked my horn from time to time when someone does not notice the light is green. http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/329092_honk27.html
3. Only in Seattle does the unpopular president arrive in town and make himself even more unpopular. What is he thinking? Oh, I forgot. He doesn't think. During rush hour, like right this minute, they are completely shutting down one of our two freeways for his motorcade. His approval rating in the Seattle area is maybe 10% but later this evening it will be zero, I guarantee. For the life of me, I do not understand why Congressman Reichert is allowing Bush here to campaign for him. It is giving a big boost to his Democratic challenger---especially if the pres ties up our already ridiculous traffic.
http://www.king5.com/topstories/stories/NW_082707WAB_bush_visit_SW.75715af0.html
4. And finally, only in Seattle, can we use our heated car seats in August. Our Honda Pilot has heated leather seats. To me, this is the ultimate in luxury. I hate being cold. We had summer for one day this year and I believe it was the day or two after the 4th of July. Occasionally, the sun shines but it has been breezy, cool and misty a good share of the time. So in August in Seattle, I drive around with my leather seat set on high and I love it.
Downtown Seattle taken by me last Tuesday night from the front door of the Purple Wine Bar and Cafe.
// posted by Janet @ 4:21 PM
0 comments
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Family Stories
I apologize to my "millions" of blog readers out there across the country for not updating recently. I have been having fun and learning an overwhelming amount of information. First of all, Kaley and I went to Montana because she had not been there for three years. She had not seen her Grandma since graduation a year ago. Kaley enjoyed her cousin's children, Isabel, age 4, and Samuel, age 1 1/2, tremendously. Kaley is the youngest cousin in both my family and Dave's family by far so it is fun for her to finally have some relatives younger than her.
While we were there, my Mom dug photos and "stuff" out of my Grandma's cedar chest. My family on my Mom's side traveled out west to Montana from the south and midwest very early on. There I was sitting in my Mom's living room in 2007 looking at the face of a man on my Grandfather's side in a photo wearing a Union Civil War uniform. Interestingly, on her Mom's side, the family came to Montana as an escape because they were Southern sympathizers during that horrible war. Clearly, I am descended from "hardy pioneer stock" who at one point were probably killing each other. I am so grateful my sister in law is keeping track of it all with files and so forth.
When we arrived home, through my sister in law, I have been contacted by two delightful second cousins. One of them lives in England and the other in Spain. And this story is equally thrilling. This is my family on my Dad's side. Confused? Yea, me too. It is all so much. But this is the story I have known from the time I was a little girl:
As a child, my brother and I spent a lot of time with my English Grandparents. My Mom was an only child as was her Mom. Her Dad was estranged from some of his family. Add to the situation, my maternal Grandparents lived far from us and we did not see them often. As a result, I was closest to my Dad's family and particularly my English Grandma.
On the wall, in one of the bedrooms of my Grandparent's house in Deer Lodge, Montana was a photo of their home and other buildings covered completely with snow except for the roofs. The photo was taken in the Cascade Mountains up on Stevens Pass. My English Grandfather, Samuel, lived up there for 10 years after arriving from England. My English Grandmother endured the conditions for about three years before she and my Grandfather and their new baby moved to Montana to live a more settled life. How did they end up there? Why did they manage to arrive in the wilderness clear across the continent rather than New York? Tis' a mystery!
My Grandparents knew each other as children. You see, they were in a workhouse together. Remember Charles Dickens? And Oliver? You get the idea. In those days, at the turn of the previous century, if parents did not have money or an adequate place to live, they sent their children to bleak places to live and work. The kids were then labeled paupers. After giving birth to 11 or 12 children, my Grandpa's mother was put in an asylum where she died. The youngest children were sent to the workhouse, including my Grandpa. My Grandma Lily's father was much older than her mother and when he died, off to the workhouse she went. Here are these kids, aged 8, 9, 10, 12 and they became friends--tight friends in Herne Bay Workhouse near Canterbury, England. My Grandma's best girlfriends were the sisters of my Grandpa.
My Grandpa's older brother, Wilfred, was the first to come to America. My best guess is that he was enticed by railroad ads and posters promising riches in the great American west. And west did he come, as far west as one can get to the state of Washington. As soon as my Grandpa was old enough and out of the workhouse in 1908, I can imagine him saying, "I'm outta here!" Travelling by ship and most likely in steerage, he arrived in the U.S. sick. The family story is that Wilfred grabbed him and took off without collecting belongings. At Ellis Island, he would have been sent back. By rail, they arrived right here, not far from where I live. They worked odd jobs as cooks, tried their hand at gold mining, tried to find land, and trapped for furs.
Not long after, the two brothers sent for their sister, Minnie, to cook and keep house for them. She, too, had spent her childhood in the Herne Bay Workhouse. The three of them were living in shacks in the rough and tumble wild west world in the mining camps and railroad towns up on Stevens Pass along what is now Highway 2. Men outnumbered women as you can imagine so it did not take long for Minnie to find an American husband. Needless, to say she undoubtedly told her brothers they were going to have to find someone else to clean up after them because one man was difficult enough. What to do? What to do?
Minnie's best friend from the workhouse, Lily, was finally old enough to claim a little bit of money from the death of her ancient father, much to the chagrin of her older step siblings. I wish I could step back in time and listen to the conversations of Samuel, Minnie, and Wilfred in the wilderness as they hatched their plan to seduce to Lily to come and cook for Samuel and Wilfred. Maybe but maybe, they did not have to do too much convincing because my theory is that my Grandma had had a super size crush on handsome Samuel from the time she was just a girl. She didn't really know how to cook very well, either. By herself, at age 25, Lily left everything she had ever known in England, including her Mother who was still alive. She boarded a ship to Canada and took the train across our northern neighbor where she undoubtedly saw scary mountains like she had never seen before. Her friends met her in Everett, Washington and by rail whisked her up to the railroad towns and the wilderness where she stayed with Minnie and her American husband. Cook and keep house for Samuel and Wilfred??? Right! Sure!
I always knew my Grandma as a coffee drinker. Perhaps, she gave up her tea in the wilds of the Cascades because the family story is she had trouble making a good cup of tea at tea time on Stevens Pass. Yep, it did not take long. Lily had not seen Samuel for seven years---since she was 17. They were married within the the year and she was pregnant not long after that with my uncle. To give birth, the pregnant women would hop the rails into Leavenworth and that is where my Uncle George was born in the middle of a snowy winter in 1917. He is still alive today at age 90. My Grandma made the best apple pies and mince meat pasties and she always told me, my Grandpa taught her to cook. I'm sure he did.
Anyway, long story short---the two second cousins who have contacted me are the grandchildren of two of my Grandpa's sisters left behind in England. They had no idea about the story of the journey to America but they were well aware of the workhouse circumstances.
What was it like for my English Grandfather when he first arrived in this foreign place? Here are his words from 1908 in a letter to his older brother Fred back in England:
Camp 6, Leavenworth, Chelan County, Washington
My Dear Bro.
Many thanks for your letter safely received. Am glad to know you are quite well, & still keep working. Now I have a piece of news for you, I am in the position of 2nd Cook at the above camp & receiving 35$ a month equal to 7 Pds. a month in English coin, and Will is working on a ranch or farm about 10 miles from Spokane. Also, getting on fine & wishes to be remembered to you. I will now give you an idea of the place our camp is in. In the first place it is 200 miles from Spokane (not far in this country). And is situated 5 miles in amongst the range of Mountains known as the Cascades. Outside our front door flows the Wenatchee River, while on its bank runs the Great Northern main line to Seattle 193 miles. Seattle is a large city on the Pacific Coast so if you look at your map, you will see how far I am to the far side of America. Sport here is plentiful, there are bears, rattlesnakes, skunks, bobcats, chipmonks, and a host of other smaller animals I do not yet know the names of. Fishing here is very good, and I often have a feed of nice fresh trout for Supper. Forest fires are now continually breaking out now & even as I write the cry has just come in, "All out to fight fire," and out go the men with shovels to throw dirt around the edge of the fire to stop the conflagration, or we should soon be burnt down ourselves, as the camp is only built of wood. The heat here is terrific 108 in the shade 120 in the sun. A large bear came walking up the line one morning, but he got away again before a shot could be got at him. I often have a feed of peaches, as they are grown here in abundance, and instead of paying about 6 cents or 3 a piece for them I get them for nothing, but there I won't make your mouth water, Bro. Will and I will most surely have a farm next autumn, not this. Now I will turn my attention to the rest of your letter Bro., and I must say I did not feel so strange as I expected as I had Will with me and he told me all about this, that, & the other. I have had some splendid letters from my boss, and his Daughter has also honoured me, with correspondence, saying how much I had been missed etc. etc.
Now Fred you ask me for an opinion of America, well concerning the country itself, it is in a very flourishing condition (although this will not be a very good winter, owing to the Presidential Election,) and is a paradise for any energetic young man, as for the people Fred I cannot say that they are in a flourishing condition, for there is one thing wrong with these Americans, and that is they are corrupt. The wickedness of morals is appaling to the average Englishman like myself, they are all foul-mouthed, and 9 out of every 10 chew tobacco. All Americans are sallow complexioned, and generally bullet-headed & criminal looking in appearance, they are very boastful and haters of the English. I am speaking of the Americans I have met and worked with. I might also add that they do not acknowledge anyone as their master, he is their boss but not master.
They also dress very clumsily, wearing big wide trousers and long jackets almost reaching to their knees, the toffs too, and in fact the average American walks pigeon-toed. Well, I've not much more to say Fred except that 2 of my bosses sons get married next month on the 29th so will close hoping you are in the best of health as I am glad we both are.
I am Your Loving Bro., Lat
Did you hear about Uncle Olly's death last month and poor little Ivy's as well.
Salathiel Samuel Lane aka Latty on Stevens Pass almost 100 years ago.
I apologize to my "millions" of blog readers out there across the country for not updating recently. I have been having fun and learning an overwhelming amount of information. First of all, Kaley and I went to Montana because she had not been there for three years. She had not seen her Grandma since graduation a year ago. Kaley enjoyed her cousin's children, Isabel, age 4, and Samuel, age 1 1/2, tremendously. Kaley is the youngest cousin in both my family and Dave's family by far so it is fun for her to finally have some relatives younger than her.
While we were there, my Mom dug photos and "stuff" out of my Grandma's cedar chest. My family on my Mom's side traveled out west to Montana from the south and midwest very early on. There I was sitting in my Mom's living room in 2007 looking at the face of a man on my Grandfather's side in a photo wearing a Union Civil War uniform. Interestingly, on her Mom's side, the family came to Montana as an escape because they were Southern sympathizers during that horrible war. Clearly, I am descended from "hardy pioneer stock" who at one point were probably killing each other. I am so grateful my sister in law is keeping track of it all with files and so forth.
When we arrived home, through my sister in law, I have been contacted by two delightful second cousins. One of them lives in England and the other in Spain. And this story is equally thrilling. This is my family on my Dad's side. Confused? Yea, me too. It is all so much. But this is the story I have known from the time I was a little girl:
As a child, my brother and I spent a lot of time with my English Grandparents. My Mom was an only child as was her Mom. Her Dad was estranged from some of his family. Add to the situation, my maternal Grandparents lived far from us and we did not see them often. As a result, I was closest to my Dad's family and particularly my English Grandma.
On the wall, in one of the bedrooms of my Grandparent's house in Deer Lodge, Montana was a photo of their home and other buildings covered completely with snow except for the roofs. The photo was taken in the Cascade Mountains up on Stevens Pass. My English Grandfather, Samuel, lived up there for 10 years after arriving from England. My English Grandmother endured the conditions for about three years before she and my Grandfather and their new baby moved to Montana to live a more settled life. How did they end up there? Why did they manage to arrive in the wilderness clear across the continent rather than New York? Tis' a mystery!
My Grandparents knew each other as children. You see, they were in a workhouse together. Remember Charles Dickens? And Oliver? You get the idea. In those days, at the turn of the previous century, if parents did not have money or an adequate place to live, they sent their children to bleak places to live and work. The kids were then labeled paupers. After giving birth to 11 or 12 children, my Grandpa's mother was put in an asylum where she died. The youngest children were sent to the workhouse, including my Grandpa. My Grandma Lily's father was much older than her mother and when he died, off to the workhouse she went. Here are these kids, aged 8, 9, 10, 12 and they became friends--tight friends in Herne Bay Workhouse near Canterbury, England. My Grandma's best girlfriends were the sisters of my Grandpa.
My Grandpa's older brother, Wilfred, was the first to come to America. My best guess is that he was enticed by railroad ads and posters promising riches in the great American west. And west did he come, as far west as one can get to the state of Washington. As soon as my Grandpa was old enough and out of the workhouse in 1908, I can imagine him saying, "I'm outta here!" Travelling by ship and most likely in steerage, he arrived in the U.S. sick. The family story is that Wilfred grabbed him and took off without collecting belongings. At Ellis Island, he would have been sent back. By rail, they arrived right here, not far from where I live. They worked odd jobs as cooks, tried their hand at gold mining, tried to find land, and trapped for furs.
Not long after, the two brothers sent for their sister, Minnie, to cook and keep house for them. She, too, had spent her childhood in the Herne Bay Workhouse. The three of them were living in shacks in the rough and tumble wild west world in the mining camps and railroad towns up on Stevens Pass along what is now Highway 2. Men outnumbered women as you can imagine so it did not take long for Minnie to find an American husband. Needless, to say she undoubtedly told her brothers they were going to have to find someone else to clean up after them because one man was difficult enough. What to do? What to do?
Minnie's best friend from the workhouse, Lily, was finally old enough to claim a little bit of money from the death of her ancient father, much to the chagrin of her older step siblings. I wish I could step back in time and listen to the conversations of Samuel, Minnie, and Wilfred in the wilderness as they hatched their plan to seduce to Lily to come and cook for Samuel and Wilfred. Maybe but maybe, they did not have to do too much convincing because my theory is that my Grandma had had a super size crush on handsome Samuel from the time she was just a girl. She didn't really know how to cook very well, either. By herself, at age 25, Lily left everything she had ever known in England, including her Mother who was still alive. She boarded a ship to Canada and took the train across our northern neighbor where she undoubtedly saw scary mountains like she had never seen before. Her friends met her in Everett, Washington and by rail whisked her up to the railroad towns and the wilderness where she stayed with Minnie and her American husband. Cook and keep house for Samuel and Wilfred??? Right! Sure!
I always knew my Grandma as a coffee drinker. Perhaps, she gave up her tea in the wilds of the Cascades because the family story is she had trouble making a good cup of tea at tea time on Stevens Pass. Yep, it did not take long. Lily had not seen Samuel for seven years---since she was 17. They were married within the the year and she was pregnant not long after that with my uncle. To give birth, the pregnant women would hop the rails into Leavenworth and that is where my Uncle George was born in the middle of a snowy winter in 1917. He is still alive today at age 90. My Grandma made the best apple pies and mince meat pasties and she always told me, my Grandpa taught her to cook. I'm sure he did.
Anyway, long story short---the two second cousins who have contacted me are the grandchildren of two of my Grandpa's sisters left behind in England. They had no idea about the story of the journey to America but they were well aware of the workhouse circumstances.
What was it like for my English Grandfather when he first arrived in this foreign place? Here are his words from 1908 in a letter to his older brother Fred back in England:
Camp 6, Leavenworth, Chelan County, Washington
My Dear Bro.
Many thanks for your letter safely received. Am glad to know you are quite well, & still keep working. Now I have a piece of news for you, I am in the position of 2nd Cook at the above camp & receiving 35$ a month equal to 7 Pds. a month in English coin, and Will is working on a ranch or farm about 10 miles from Spokane. Also, getting on fine & wishes to be remembered to you. I will now give you an idea of the place our camp is in. In the first place it is 200 miles from Spokane (not far in this country). And is situated 5 miles in amongst the range of Mountains known as the Cascades. Outside our front door flows the Wenatchee River, while on its bank runs the Great Northern main line to Seattle 193 miles. Seattle is a large city on the Pacific Coast so if you look at your map, you will see how far I am to the far side of America. Sport here is plentiful, there are bears, rattlesnakes, skunks, bobcats, chipmonks, and a host of other smaller animals I do not yet know the names of. Fishing here is very good, and I often have a feed of nice fresh trout for Supper. Forest fires are now continually breaking out now & even as I write the cry has just come in, "All out to fight fire," and out go the men with shovels to throw dirt around the edge of the fire to stop the conflagration, or we should soon be burnt down ourselves, as the camp is only built of wood. The heat here is terrific 108 in the shade 120 in the sun. A large bear came walking up the line one morning, but he got away again before a shot could be got at him. I often have a feed of peaches, as they are grown here in abundance, and instead of paying about 6 cents or 3 a piece for them I get them for nothing, but there I won't make your mouth water, Bro. Will and I will most surely have a farm next autumn, not this. Now I will turn my attention to the rest of your letter Bro., and I must say I did not feel so strange as I expected as I had Will with me and he told me all about this, that, & the other. I have had some splendid letters from my boss, and his Daughter has also honoured me, with correspondence, saying how much I had been missed etc. etc.
Now Fred you ask me for an opinion of America, well concerning the country itself, it is in a very flourishing condition (although this will not be a very good winter, owing to the Presidential Election,) and is a paradise for any energetic young man, as for the people Fred I cannot say that they are in a flourishing condition, for there is one thing wrong with these Americans, and that is they are corrupt. The wickedness of morals is appaling to the average Englishman like myself, they are all foul-mouthed, and 9 out of every 10 chew tobacco. All Americans are sallow complexioned, and generally bullet-headed & criminal looking in appearance, they are very boastful and haters of the English. I am speaking of the Americans I have met and worked with. I might also add that they do not acknowledge anyone as their master, he is their boss but not master.
They also dress very clumsily, wearing big wide trousers and long jackets almost reaching to their knees, the toffs too, and in fact the average American walks pigeon-toed. Well, I've not much more to say Fred except that 2 of my bosses sons get married next month on the 29th so will close hoping you are in the best of health as I am glad we both are.
I am Your Loving Bro., Lat
Did you hear about Uncle Olly's death last month and poor little Ivy's as well.
Salathiel Samuel Lane aka Latty on Stevens Pass almost 100 years ago.
// posted by Janet @ 9:22 AM
6 comments
Friday, August 10, 2007
A Fish Story
My entire life I have been exposed to fish stories and believe me all of them are true. When I was a little girl, we spent every summer in Idaho fishing for chinook salmon that made the treacherous journey up the rivers from the Pacific Ocean. The salmon no longer make it all of the way to Idaho and it is our fault. Anyway, that is another subject. My Dad was scrupulously honest and he never needed to embellish his fish stories because he was a truly great fisherman. Talented in every way, he could catch fish in situations where no one else could. My poor brother had a difficult time living up to the legend but he seems to have inherited the ability.
I do, however, remember a fib he told once and I was shocked because I knew him to never lie. There was a fisherman's code on the Salmon River and if someone caught a big fish, the word would spread through the campground or it would be obvious because the big old thing would be hanging on a tree while it was being wiped out and the eggs treated. But never should you approach the person and ask them where they caught it because favorite fishing holes are a private matter especially if they yield the big one. My Dad had probably a 20 to 30 pounder hanging on a nail and a guy walked up to admire it jealously. He asked my Dad where he caught it. .....silence...... Of course, by that time, little Janet had heard the entire exciting story of the catch. You see, I would not have been there because my Dad would get up at 4 AM and I would be in my sleeping bag for at least another five hours.
My Dad calmly and politely told this man where he had pulled the giant king out of the river. Only that was not where it happened and I knew it. I was smart enough to keep quiet. My Dad probably misled him a bit on exactly what he used for bait as well. Yes, I had absorbed the rules of the river and I knew the curious man had been rude to ask what he asked. But, I was still surprised to hear my Dad not tell the truth.
At the moment, Dave and Lucas are up in Canada on the coast of Vancouver Island fishing for the gold medal of salmon, the chinook. They are kind of in the middle of nowhere but I have been up there before in the same spot salmon fishing with Dave many years ago before children came along. This is where my lie comes in to play. Lucas, though he never knew my Dad, is infused with the same passion for salmon fishing. On our last hike together, I reminded Dave that indeed I had been fishing with him in the same place they were headed.
"Oh, yes, now I remember," he recalled. "Lucas, your Mom caused me to lose a 40 lb. salmon on that trip!"
"Mom, are you serious? Is this true? You lost a 40 pounder??"
Turning red and shaking my head, I lied in response, "No, your Dad is losing his memory in his old age. It never happened. He is making it all up. Fish stories, you know."
Naturally, Lucas knew I was prevaricating and believed every word his Dad proceeded to tell him. I went on a lot of fishing trips as a kid but usually, I played with the bait whether it was worms or grasshoppers. And I never learned how to net fish because our Golden Retriever, Laddie, would gently retrieve my Dad's trout out of the Missouri River. When my Dad salmon fished, I was asleep.
Here Dave and I were in the wild waters of the Pacific off the coast of Vancouver Island in a small boat. I was generally scared anyway. Dave hooked a humongous salmon. I have seen a lot of salmon in my life and it was one of the biggest I had ever encountered. It was so gigantic that it frightened me when he reeled it up to the boat. He yelled at me to grab the big net and scoop it up. I think I do not need to spell out what happened next. The fish did not end up flopping on the bottom of our boat. I think I clanked it on the head and scared him as much as he had scared me. Off he zipped, breaking the line. Frankly, it is amazing we are still married after this little episode.
Well, Dave just called me a few minutes ago from a pay phone and I do believe I have been vindicated a little. This morning, as they were trolling in the wild waters of the Pacific off the coast of Vancouver Island, Dave noticed his line started dragging. When he tried to reel it in, he realized it was caught on another line. At first, he assumed he had become entangled with Lucas' line or with his friend. But as he kept reeling in, he noticed it was someone else's line that had broken. Flashers were attached. Lo and behold, on the end of this fishing line was a 25 lb. king salmon. It was tuckered out from having fought the good fight on some other fisherman's pole probably not long before until it broke the line and got away. And then, in the middle of nowhere, this fish just happened to wrap itself around my husband's line.
I advised my husband that if the three of them go to a bar tonight to celebrate the day, they ought to keep this story to themselves. They should just listen to the other stories----about the big one that got away.
Maybe, just maybe, they should buy some poor fellow a drink.
UPDATE:
Dave actually did catch a big salmon about 25 pounds the "real" way. They came home with two Chinooks---the big ones---and two Silvers. Last night was Dave's birthday so we ate salmon steaks cut from one of the Chinooks and barbecued perfectly on the grill. Kaley and I drove in the driveway after our trip to smoky Montana just in time for the birthday dinner. We were so thankful to be able to see the sky and breathe fresh Mukilteo air. Montana is burning up. It is humankind's fault on multiple levels though folks do not agree which politicians are to blame. I believe my brother who has worked for the Forest Service for over 30 years in the summers and is an experienced fire fighter. He claims the Forest Service hasn't been allowed to do its job for a variety of reasons or to take preventative measures. It is horrible what is happening to my Montana.
Dave and the big one that did not get away! Bamfield, BC
My entire life I have been exposed to fish stories and believe me all of them are true. When I was a little girl, we spent every summer in Idaho fishing for chinook salmon that made the treacherous journey up the rivers from the Pacific Ocean. The salmon no longer make it all of the way to Idaho and it is our fault. Anyway, that is another subject. My Dad was scrupulously honest and he never needed to embellish his fish stories because he was a truly great fisherman. Talented in every way, he could catch fish in situations where no one else could. My poor brother had a difficult time living up to the legend but he seems to have inherited the ability.
I do, however, remember a fib he told once and I was shocked because I knew him to never lie. There was a fisherman's code on the Salmon River and if someone caught a big fish, the word would spread through the campground or it would be obvious because the big old thing would be hanging on a tree while it was being wiped out and the eggs treated. But never should you approach the person and ask them where they caught it because favorite fishing holes are a private matter especially if they yield the big one. My Dad had probably a 20 to 30 pounder hanging on a nail and a guy walked up to admire it jealously. He asked my Dad where he caught it. .....silence...... Of course, by that time, little Janet had heard the entire exciting story of the catch. You see, I would not have been there because my Dad would get up at 4 AM and I would be in my sleeping bag for at least another five hours.
My Dad calmly and politely told this man where he had pulled the giant king out of the river. Only that was not where it happened and I knew it. I was smart enough to keep quiet. My Dad probably misled him a bit on exactly what he used for bait as well. Yes, I had absorbed the rules of the river and I knew the curious man had been rude to ask what he asked. But, I was still surprised to hear my Dad not tell the truth.
At the moment, Dave and Lucas are up in Canada on the coast of Vancouver Island fishing for the gold medal of salmon, the chinook. They are kind of in the middle of nowhere but I have been up there before in the same spot salmon fishing with Dave many years ago before children came along. This is where my lie comes in to play. Lucas, though he never knew my Dad, is infused with the same passion for salmon fishing. On our last hike together, I reminded Dave that indeed I had been fishing with him in the same place they were headed.
"Oh, yes, now I remember," he recalled. "Lucas, your Mom caused me to lose a 40 lb. salmon on that trip!"
"Mom, are you serious? Is this true? You lost a 40 pounder??"
Turning red and shaking my head, I lied in response, "No, your Dad is losing his memory in his old age. It never happened. He is making it all up. Fish stories, you know."
Naturally, Lucas knew I was prevaricating and believed every word his Dad proceeded to tell him. I went on a lot of fishing trips as a kid but usually, I played with the bait whether it was worms or grasshoppers. And I never learned how to net fish because our Golden Retriever, Laddie, would gently retrieve my Dad's trout out of the Missouri River. When my Dad salmon fished, I was asleep.
Here Dave and I were in the wild waters of the Pacific off the coast of Vancouver Island in a small boat. I was generally scared anyway. Dave hooked a humongous salmon. I have seen a lot of salmon in my life and it was one of the biggest I had ever encountered. It was so gigantic that it frightened me when he reeled it up to the boat. He yelled at me to grab the big net and scoop it up. I think I do not need to spell out what happened next. The fish did not end up flopping on the bottom of our boat. I think I clanked it on the head and scared him as much as he had scared me. Off he zipped, breaking the line. Frankly, it is amazing we are still married after this little episode.
Well, Dave just called me a few minutes ago from a pay phone and I do believe I have been vindicated a little. This morning, as they were trolling in the wild waters of the Pacific off the coast of Vancouver Island, Dave noticed his line started dragging. When he tried to reel it in, he realized it was caught on another line. At first, he assumed he had become entangled with Lucas' line or with his friend. But as he kept reeling in, he noticed it was someone else's line that had broken. Flashers were attached. Lo and behold, on the end of this fishing line was a 25 lb. king salmon. It was tuckered out from having fought the good fight on some other fisherman's pole probably not long before until it broke the line and got away. And then, in the middle of nowhere, this fish just happened to wrap itself around my husband's line.
I advised my husband that if the three of them go to a bar tonight to celebrate the day, they ought to keep this story to themselves. They should just listen to the other stories----about the big one that got away.
Maybe, just maybe, they should buy some poor fellow a drink.
UPDATE:
Dave actually did catch a big salmon about 25 pounds the "real" way. They came home with two Chinooks---the big ones---and two Silvers. Last night was Dave's birthday so we ate salmon steaks cut from one of the Chinooks and barbecued perfectly on the grill. Kaley and I drove in the driveway after our trip to smoky Montana just in time for the birthday dinner. We were so thankful to be able to see the sky and breathe fresh Mukilteo air. Montana is burning up. It is humankind's fault on multiple levels though folks do not agree which politicians are to blame. I believe my brother who has worked for the Forest Service for over 30 years in the summers and is an experienced fire fighter. He claims the Forest Service hasn't been allowed to do its job for a variety of reasons or to take preventative measures. It is horrible what is happening to my Montana.
Dave and the big one that did not get away! Bamfield, BC
// posted by Janet @ 4:04 PM
0 comments
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
A Sad Discovery
The local TV station had a story on last night about the discovery of a deceased diver in Commencement Bay near Tacoma. My thoughts are with the person's family who will now find closure. What I do not quite understand is that they seem to have no clue who the person is. It is not like someone went missing while scuba diving a couple of days ago and they finally found him. No, another diver came across him by accident. They think he's been down there a while. I would think there would have been loved ones looking for this guy. Maybe they were a long time ago and they gave up.
http://www.king5.com/localnews/stories/NW_080707WAB_scuba_diver_skeleton_JM.fe15f23.html
And of course, there is always that other unmentionable bit of information. I will never forget when my husband told me that our crabs go after drowned humans. Oftentimes, when they pull up the body, it is completely covered. They never tell you that. First of all, it is gross. Second, it is not good for the crab business. I don't think this diver was covered with crabs which is why they think he has probably been down there a while. This is all they said:
"All he had seen was just a white skull. The white skull and a complete suit, tank, BCD, weights everything is there," said Pollack. Once the body was found, an underwater robot was sent in to retrieve it....
Detectives say with the marine life underwater in Puget Sound, it does not take very long for a body to become decomposed.
See? They never quite explain exactly what Puget Sound "marine life" does the job. But anyone who goes crabbing regularly knows. My husband usually uses fish skeletons for crab bait from his salmon which he keeps in our freezer. If he runs out of those, raw chicken parts work. Also, I guess canned cat food, the stinkier the better, appeals to the Dungeness. The last time my husband went out crabbing, he stopped at a mini-mart on the way to the boat launch to get some cat food. The clerk, unfamiliar with the culture of our area, asked him why all these guys were coming in to buy cat food. He was running out of the salmon variety. Hubby's two word response, "Crab bait."
Seriously, I do not mean to be disrespectful. I hope they find the family quickly because it must be terrible to have a loved one go missing with no answer about what happened. When Kaley left her phone in her car when she got to Portland and forgot to call me when she arrived, I went completely nutzoid. With complete anxiety, I was demanding that we do something to find her. Lucas calmly said that she probably left her phone in the car and he was right. I cannot imagine not knowing for months or years. I lost it for two hours.
They discovered the diver's body on Monday and I have been checking the article for updates. Peace to the loved ones.
The local TV station had a story on last night about the discovery of a deceased diver in Commencement Bay near Tacoma. My thoughts are with the person's family who will now find closure. What I do not quite understand is that they seem to have no clue who the person is. It is not like someone went missing while scuba diving a couple of days ago and they finally found him. No, another diver came across him by accident. They think he's been down there a while. I would think there would have been loved ones looking for this guy. Maybe they were a long time ago and they gave up.
http://www.king5.com/localnews/stories/NW_080707WAB_scuba_diver_skeleton_JM.fe15f23.html
And of course, there is always that other unmentionable bit of information. I will never forget when my husband told me that our crabs go after drowned humans. Oftentimes, when they pull up the body, it is completely covered. They never tell you that. First of all, it is gross. Second, it is not good for the crab business. I don't think this diver was covered with crabs which is why they think he has probably been down there a while. This is all they said:
"All he had seen was just a white skull. The white skull and a complete suit, tank, BCD, weights everything is there," said Pollack. Once the body was found, an underwater robot was sent in to retrieve it....
Detectives say with the marine life underwater in Puget Sound, it does not take very long for a body to become decomposed.
See? They never quite explain exactly what Puget Sound "marine life" does the job. But anyone who goes crabbing regularly knows. My husband usually uses fish skeletons for crab bait from his salmon which he keeps in our freezer. If he runs out of those, raw chicken parts work. Also, I guess canned cat food, the stinkier the better, appeals to the Dungeness. The last time my husband went out crabbing, he stopped at a mini-mart on the way to the boat launch to get some cat food. The clerk, unfamiliar with the culture of our area, asked him why all these guys were coming in to buy cat food. He was running out of the salmon variety. Hubby's two word response, "Crab bait."
Seriously, I do not mean to be disrespectful. I hope they find the family quickly because it must be terrible to have a loved one go missing with no answer about what happened. When Kaley left her phone in her car when she got to Portland and forgot to call me when she arrived, I went completely nutzoid. With complete anxiety, I was demanding that we do something to find her. Lucas calmly said that she probably left her phone in the car and he was right. I cannot imagine not knowing for months or years. I lost it for two hours.
They discovered the diver's body on Monday and I have been checking the article for updates. Peace to the loved ones.
// posted by Janet @ 1:32 PM
0 comments
Lazy Days of August
My daughter finished her restaurant job for the summer. She wanted to finish a couple of weeks early so she could have a little bit of summer. The restaurant hired her in May and she was successful. She liked preparing salads, appetizers and plating desserts but the commute was tiring. Also, the other chefs in the kitchen were men who mostly talked about the Seattle Mariners. As a result, she worked in silence and did not have a chance to mix with the wait persons and hosts who were more her peers. "Girl" line chefs are not that common and she felt fortunate to have landed this coveted position even if she did not like it all of the time. All in all, a positive experience in her young life. At the moment, she is in Portland visiting her favorite "boy."
Lucas has been working hard as a Seattle tour guide with Grayline. He narrates the downtown bus loop. August has brought Seattle a lot of European tourists from Germany, Italy, Ireland, and France. In addition, he has had many families from Mexico and further south from Brazil. A couple from Italy asked him yesterday if the weather was always cloudy and drizzly this time of year. He replied that usually August is sunny and warm with no rain but not at the moment. He has had several opportunities to engage in conversations in French and Spanish. People from Texas show up frequently and Lucas explains they are the most friendly. He always tells them he has been to Denton. The European tourists tend to be interested in Lucas' stories about Chief Sealth after whom Seattle is named and some of his information about native language. Of course, this is his area of expertise. He has been asked if Puget Sound ever freezes and he has also been asked if it is salt water or fresh. The questions come after he emphasizes that Puget Sound is not ever referred to as the "ocean" by locals.
My husband has been spending a lot of time getting our rickety boat ready for a fishing trip. He and Lucas are leaving tomorrow to spend the weekend in Canada fishing for Kings (Chinook salmon). I have been spending my time checking the weather and fires in Montana because when Kaley gets back from Portland, she and I are road tripping to Helena for a couple of days. If it is too hot and smokey, we may just turn around and come home after giving her Grandma a hug.
You see, it is a cozy 58 degrees here with fog and mist. I like it. No way would I trade this for the hot, dry and smokey conditions we will encounter in Montana. For dinner last night, I made hot Hungarian goulash with our paprika from Hungary. It cooked on the warm stove for two hours. I wear sweatshirts and drink coffee. By the way, good research is coming out about coffee lately. If combined with exercise, it reduces the risk of skin cancer. It also reduces the risk of liver cancer and the latest is that several cups a day reduce memory loss in old age. Go Starbucks and go Seattle!
As usual, the big problem I always have is I cannot get a good tomato or pepper in this climate. Every single stupid year I deal with this and nothing works. Up in Vancouver, they have these big green houses where they grow tomatoes. I guess I have to stick with them. But tuberous begonias??? Boy oh boy, our shady conditions are perfect for tuberous begonias. Those we can grow--
---as long as we can keep Apolo from digging them up.
Taken this morning---pathetic tomatoes and peppers even with the glass. Drip. Drip. Drip.
But big begonias. Too bad we can't eat them. Well, Apolo will if he has the chance.
My daughter finished her restaurant job for the summer. She wanted to finish a couple of weeks early so she could have a little bit of summer. The restaurant hired her in May and she was successful. She liked preparing salads, appetizers and plating desserts but the commute was tiring. Also, the other chefs in the kitchen were men who mostly talked about the Seattle Mariners. As a result, she worked in silence and did not have a chance to mix with the wait persons and hosts who were more her peers. "Girl" line chefs are not that common and she felt fortunate to have landed this coveted position even if she did not like it all of the time. All in all, a positive experience in her young life. At the moment, she is in Portland visiting her favorite "boy."
Lucas has been working hard as a Seattle tour guide with Grayline. He narrates the downtown bus loop. August has brought Seattle a lot of European tourists from Germany, Italy, Ireland, and France. In addition, he has had many families from Mexico and further south from Brazil. A couple from Italy asked him yesterday if the weather was always cloudy and drizzly this time of year. He replied that usually August is sunny and warm with no rain but not at the moment. He has had several opportunities to engage in conversations in French and Spanish. People from Texas show up frequently and Lucas explains they are the most friendly. He always tells them he has been to Denton. The European tourists tend to be interested in Lucas' stories about Chief Sealth after whom Seattle is named and some of his information about native language. Of course, this is his area of expertise. He has been asked if Puget Sound ever freezes and he has also been asked if it is salt water or fresh. The questions come after he emphasizes that Puget Sound is not ever referred to as the "ocean" by locals.
My husband has been spending a lot of time getting our rickety boat ready for a fishing trip. He and Lucas are leaving tomorrow to spend the weekend in Canada fishing for Kings (Chinook salmon). I have been spending my time checking the weather and fires in Montana because when Kaley gets back from Portland, she and I are road tripping to Helena for a couple of days. If it is too hot and smokey, we may just turn around and come home after giving her Grandma a hug.
You see, it is a cozy 58 degrees here with fog and mist. I like it. No way would I trade this for the hot, dry and smokey conditions we will encounter in Montana. For dinner last night, I made hot Hungarian goulash with our paprika from Hungary. It cooked on the warm stove for two hours. I wear sweatshirts and drink coffee. By the way, good research is coming out about coffee lately. If combined with exercise, it reduces the risk of skin cancer. It also reduces the risk of liver cancer and the latest is that several cups a day reduce memory loss in old age. Go Starbucks and go Seattle!
As usual, the big problem I always have is I cannot get a good tomato or pepper in this climate. Every single stupid year I deal with this and nothing works. Up in Vancouver, they have these big green houses where they grow tomatoes. I guess I have to stick with them. But tuberous begonias??? Boy oh boy, our shady conditions are perfect for tuberous begonias. Those we can grow--
---as long as we can keep Apolo from digging them up.
Taken this morning---pathetic tomatoes and peppers even with the glass. Drip. Drip. Drip.
But big begonias. Too bad we can't eat them. Well, Apolo will if he has the chance.
// posted by Janet @ 8:45 AM
4 comments
Friday, August 03, 2007
Another Day, Another Lake
Yesterday was a beautiful day. Temperatures were in the 80's with full sun and clear views. This morning when I got up, it was foggy out on the water, drizzly on the deck, and not even 60 degrees.
My friend and I with three dogs hiked to Heather Lake off the Mountain Loop Highway yesterday. The typical 1500 feet elevation gain to get up into the mountains also brought us into some very large trees. As always, the reward was at the end as we arrived at the lake and our babies frolicked in the clear cold water.
To be honest, our picnic lunch was out of control with millions of biting flies and three big muddy dogs with very bad manners. Actually, my friend's dog, who is a mutt but has some Golden in him, is behaved but the two Golden Retrievers were kind of terrible. The other Golden was my friend's house guest. A leisurely restful lunch we did not have. It was fun anyway. Pictures:
Heather Lake with Mt. Pilchuck in the background and still a speck of snow.
Apolo and Emma out in the water.
Three very tired puppies on the way home in the back of the van. From top to bottom, Emma, Max, and Apolo like three color swatches on a designer paint card. As you can see, my puppy thought it was beneath him to be in the back with the other dogs. The look in his eyes is, "And why am I not in the front seat with you? This is not fair."
Yesterday was a beautiful day. Temperatures were in the 80's with full sun and clear views. This morning when I got up, it was foggy out on the water, drizzly on the deck, and not even 60 degrees.
My friend and I with three dogs hiked to Heather Lake off the Mountain Loop Highway yesterday. The typical 1500 feet elevation gain to get up into the mountains also brought us into some very large trees. As always, the reward was at the end as we arrived at the lake and our babies frolicked in the clear cold water.
To be honest, our picnic lunch was out of control with millions of biting flies and three big muddy dogs with very bad manners. Actually, my friend's dog, who is a mutt but has some Golden in him, is behaved but the two Golden Retrievers were kind of terrible. The other Golden was my friend's house guest. A leisurely restful lunch we did not have. It was fun anyway. Pictures:
Heather Lake with Mt. Pilchuck in the background and still a speck of snow.
Apolo and Emma out in the water.
Three very tired puppies on the way home in the back of the van. From top to bottom, Emma, Max, and Apolo like three color swatches on a designer paint card. As you can see, my puppy thought it was beneath him to be in the back with the other dogs. The look in his eyes is, "And why am I not in the front seat with you? This is not fair."
// posted by Janet @ 1:06 PM
2 comments
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