Most of my life orbited the Edmonds waterfront, just north of Seattle. My grandparents lived here. So many memories of walking with my grandfather here, sometimes riding the ferry. He loved talking with everyone, hearing their stories. His gift of listening appreciated.
These are troubling times, aren’t they? I wonder what it would take for humanity to seek connection instead of division. Perhaps I’m naive to think that such a thing is possible. Perhaps. Yet I’ll cling to my hope.
Ok, this is not a haiku nor a poem. I hope you can forgive the deviation from my norm. Today I read a piece by Seattle writer Angela Garbes. It resonated deeply with me, so I wanted to share with you, my friends.
Published in the Seattle Met, “As Seattle Grew, I grew Up” mirrors my own experience. I, too, spent my ‘feral 20s’ wandering Capitol Hill, where I lived the better part of 10 years of my life. Seeking the urban as a cyclist seeking a car-free life, and the vibrancy I imagined coming with concrete. Years making mostly minimum wage, yet able to survive. Gentrification just starting to squeeze. I being able to rise up the wage rungs quickly enough to stay above the flood waters of economic calamity.
My revisits come filled with memories. Oh, “this was here”, and “that was there”. Then “what WAS here”? Memories combine with memory’s absence; strange feelings, ones that I’m not quite used to.
“Cities are meant to change”. Seattle’s changed, quite a bit. Driving home how time has passed, how much older I’ve become. Things I’m not quite ready to accept, so they keep rearing up. Such is the way of things I guess.
Well, I’ll finish with a haiku: it’s what my soul wants.
these old concrete walks echoing my youth’s footsteps urban memories
Met a really cool guy today. A former Navy nuclear power program sailor, just like me. Though he is quite a bit younger.
Swapped stories of our respective experiences, which I enjoyed. Yet I often worry in those moments that I’ll become like the subject of Bruce Springsteen’s “Glory Days”, a relic, trapped in the past. Grave fate, for me, at least.