fairy tales

Just Another Day in West Seattle

/ Susan Romanenghi / Leave a comment

medieval-doctor-plague-mask

My 2019 encounter in the grocery store with a young man wearing a Venetian plague mask is so uncanny.    Here we are in 2020 and I shop for groceries wearing a plague mask.   Hand-sewn, for COVID19.   It’s all funny in 2020.   I wonder if Venetian plague masks are on-line for ordering?  Here’s my sketch of the incident last year:

April 2019:

It is a lovely spring day.  As I approach Metropolitan Market, I spot girl students wearing sandwich board signs to Save the Wolves.  They want to add me to a list to endorse their cause.  I smile, desist from lecturing that wolves like to deceive girls such as them and belong in fairy tales.

A tall, slender youth strides by.  He wears a long, black leather coat, black boots with spurs.  His face is hidden by a Venetian Plague Mask.  It covers his entire head.

Huh?

Why the mask?  What or who is he hiding from?

This is West Seattle, not Venice.  The 21st century, not the Dark Ages.

Oh wait: maybe I’ve got that wrong.

He walks past the Save The Wolves girls into Met Market.

“Unusual, eh?” I call out to the girls.

“Maybe he is in a school play or something,” one of them says.

“Hadn’t thought of that.”

I had not thought of that.

No.  My first thought, as I enter Met Market:  is this guy packin’?

We live in strange times and what is this guy trying to say or prove with the Venetian Plague Mask, the dark leather coat, the boots?  It’s not Halloween.  Does he have a concealed weapon underneath the costume?   Should I even go into the store?

Maybe I need to lighten up.

I grab a grocery cart, brave going into the store.

Plague Mask peers at me from over a pile of fruit as I squeeze an avocodo.   He turns and walks down another aisle.  The echo of his boots rings in my ears.

Now I have been to Venice but have never been to their carnivals where 16th century Plague Masks are part of the festivities.  To my knowledge, Venetians would not be wearing them to grocery stores.

Again, I wonder:  is this guy packin’?  Will he pull out an AK47 and start shooting?

I better find the store manager.

“There’s a guy walking around here wearing a long, leather coat and a Plague Mask.”

The manager looks at me like I am daft. “A plague mask?”

“You know. Venice. Plague masks. Carnivals.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s weird.  Kind of wonder about him.  Hiding behind a mask.  And his long coat. Maybe he has a concealed weapon.  Just thinking about safety, community.”

“Maybe he’s an actor.”

“That’s what the wolf girls think.”

“The wolf girls?”

“Yeah. The ones that are outside the store.”

The manager shakes his head.  “Lady. Is that the guy?”  He points to the espresso stand.

The young man has removed the Plague Mask.   He holds it in his hand as he chats with the barrista.

“Huh.   OK.   Just another day in West Seattle.”  I smile at the manager and exit.

“Fairy tales,” I declare to the Save the Wolves girls. “That’s where wolves belong.”

Bootcamp

/ Susan Romanenghi / 2 Comments

MemoryVault              FortWorden_PortTownsend_Poulsbo_0103

Memory’s Vault is just off the main trail in Fort Worden.  Once housing coastal defense bunkers, it  is now a place of contemplation.   7-foot high metal monoliths with porcelain enamel plaques contain poems by Sam Hamill. The artwork references gun battles and military function of the Fort.

During writing bootcamp in Port Townsend, it was hard to stay focused.  Nature  and U.S. military history is Writ Large there.  I went far afield on hikes.  The Memory Vault trail is off the beaten path.   The area was originally built as a United States Army installation for the protection of Puget Sound.  Now it’s a place for contemplation.

I was up at the crack of dawn hiking along Admiralty Inlet.   The birds and lighthouse were a 5-minute walk from dormitory:

FortWorden_PortTownsend_Poulsbo_0174      AdmiraltyInletLighthouse

I did manage to focus on writing eventually.  Here’s a 10-minute quick-write for  a Fairy Tale craft lecture.  The prompt?  Re-frame Red Riding Hood  to POV of my choice.  In this case, the  Voice is Red’s hood:

I advised the kid not to wear me on the way to Granny’s cottage.  But she’s known around the village as “Red Cap” and lives up to the name and I am her favorite color.  So I lost that battle.

Other than not listening to me, Red’s a good kid.  She did not sass her Mom when she gave Red a loaf of bread, jug of milk to take to Granny.   (But you should get a load of Red’s sister, Drusilla.  Poster child for misbehavior.  She used to blow smoke in Red’s face when Red was just a babe in the cradle).

So Red and I venture out.  We find ourselves in a field of flowers.  A Monarch butterfly alights on my peak.  I twitch it off.  The kid gathers daisies, Queen Ann’s Lace, bachelor buttons. She puts them in the basket with the loaf of bread, jug of milk. 

We’re almost near Granny’s.  But then the Wolf spots me.   I know he wants to devour the kid so I shake from the peak of my cap to the hem of my cloak.  My magic ripples down the garment, causing Red to drop the bread, milk, flowers.

“What’s going on?” she says.

“I have made us invisible.”

It works.  The wolf darts at the bread and milk instead of us.

“Told you not to wear me in the deep, dark forest,” I say to the kid.  “Red is eye candy for wolves.”

By the time we reach Granny’s door, we are out of breath.  We ring the bell.  She locks us in and the Wolf is left behind chomping away.