Seattle

Community Cat

/ Susan Romanenghi / Leave a comment


I met Cheech at Lincoln Park in West Seattle on a cold autumn day in 2022 and our friendship continued into 2023. 

I kept a zip-lock baggie of bonito flakes, which he liked to lick from my hands, in my car.  Other people in the community brought him cans of sardines and paused to pet him.  Someone even transformed a doghouse into his sleeping quarters and set it in the brush.

Today when I visit Cheech’s hang-out, I do not find him.  Only the doghouse.

I met his owner once.  She said Cheech was born to be wild.   But she made sure he was micro-chipped. I noticed that Cheech had no collar and tags.  Was the micro-chip enough to locate him?    

Did Cheech die in the wild?  Was he at the mercy of racoons, bald eagles, or coyotes?  And what about Cheech’s owner?  Had she abandoned him?  Or maybe Cheech abandoned her?  How was the ju-ju in the human’s house?

Where is our community cat? 

I miss Cheech’s warmth and his purrs when he lapped up my bonito flakes.

Put A Bird On It

/ Susan Romanenghi / Leave a comment
FortWorden_PortTownsend_Poulsbo_0126

Washington State is the first in the country to legalize human composting.  

It started pre-Covid, with a non-profit organization called the Urban Death Project.  The name was changed to Recompose, a public benefit corporation. 

Hmmm…Recompose. I like the sound of that. Do I get a chance to be more composed in the next life? 

The Recompose business is an alternative to the existing options of burial and cremation.  The process takes about 30 days as human bodies are converted into soil through “natural organic reduction.” 

Essentially, human composting.

Wait…

Human composting?  Gives me the shivers.

Do I want to be turned over to loved ones in a dirt bag?  Should I worry that I will come back as a beefsteak tomato or a radish? 

What happens when we pass on?

Do we all just “drop our bodies” — our human shells — and leave our human spirits behind on Mother Earth?

A great mystery.

I first heard about dropping our bodies from the Ram Dass Here And Now podcast.

Ram Dass dropped his body shortly before the covid pandemic.

Listening to Ram Dass, I shiver less and laugh more about the whole death conundrum. 

Ram Dass, Jack Kornfield, and Thich Nhat Hanh’s Zen words reassure:  no one is alone, no one is separate from Mother Earth. 

Although it is not easy to drop our bodies, everyone will.  

There is poetry in old, gated cemeteries. Historic Graceland Cemetery in Chicago with its elaborate monuments and headstones has always fascinated me.

But how are we being good stewards of land for future generations?

Recently I attended a Catholic church service to hear the priest say he felt sad that parishioners were choosing cremation over burial.

Really?

I cannot imagine this priest would go for composting.

But what’s that to me?  We all have free will.  We all must turn inward to our own heart, mind, and body for the answer.  

It is not easy.

And if we are worm food for birds?

Make mine a robin.

Hope Springs Eternal.

Mer-Baby

/ Susan Romanenghi / 1 Comment
Baby on Lincoln Park Beach

The seal pup blinks its eyes,
its dorsal tail curls
and I think of the Mer-Baby
lost at sea and swept to earth on a wave.

I came upon this darling during a morning walk along Puget Sound. Seal Sitters had set up a barrier with tape to protect this baby from people and dogs. (Seals come onshore to rest and even “helpful” people can cause them unintended harm.) We in Seattle are lucky to have nature writ large. And a community of volunteers such as Seal Sitters who devote time and attention to sustaining such beautiful creatures.

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.”

It’s All Funny in 2020

/ Susan Romanenghi / Leave a comment

CoronaVintageShipPic

In 1908 in Seattle, a ship called “Corona” launched from downtown Seattle to West Seattle with a full deck of passengers. You can faintly make out “Corona” on the front of this ship which was one among others in the Mosquito Fleet.

The Mosquito Fleet ships were so nicknamed because they were small and quick, flitting from one side of the sound to the other.

While I never sailed on this ghost of the past, I did have a mosquito commute to work on the Sightseer which was pleasant.

AdmiralPeteOriginal

It took only 12 minutes to cross to downtown Seattle and was far preferable to 40-minute bus and car commutes on the West Seattle Bridge.   Less gridlock, less carbon footprints.

Before the Sightseer, I commuted on the Admiral Pete.  Pete was much smaller than the Sightseer.  He was the first water taxi when Seattle re-launched service in 1999.  I used to sit on an open seat in the back and feel the water’s spray against my skin.

But in 2020, things aren’t funny.  We are in lockdown now, with cities across the world in the same situation.

The haunting image of the Italian balcony singers of our Corona days presses me to get outdoors as often as possible.

My husband and I ventured out for a walk to Elliott Bay.  With Purell in our pockets and donning our disposable gloves, we visited the dock where the water taxis moor.

A water taxi was pulling in.   I was curious as to ridership these days, and so I spoke to the ticket taker.  Ridership is down 90%, he said, even though King County is offering rides for free.

Social distancing on the water taxi?  Of course, what was I thinking?  This is the new normal.  It just takes so dang long for me to wrap my mind around it all.

But wait, there’s more!  A few weeks ago, the City of Seattle decided to shut down the West Seattle Bridge for repairs.  There is no timeline for even temporary repairs.  We are in a pandemic and the most heavily trafficked bridge in Seattle is closed?  People are finding alternate routes, adding more time and requiring more patience, as they attempt to get to appointments, buy essentials.

I’d like to say things are funny in 2020.  I’d like to say “bring on the mosquito fleet” so we could all feel salt breezes and avoid gridlock on bridges.

Though I will never feel nostalgic for gridlock, I am nostalgic for mosquito fleets.  But also for bridges — which, after all, were first developed by the ancient Romans.

 

 

 

 

 

Love Rocks!

/ Susan Romanenghi / 3 Comments

WestSeattleDancerRooftopCarona

Ah, the human spirit!  Witness the West Seattle rooftop dancer at sunset.  Who knows.  Maybe she will start a trend of rooftop dancers just as Italy has its balcony singers to  alleviate the loneliness of COVID-19 social distancing.

Let’s hope that it does not get as bad here as in Italy.  Il mio povero paesani!

In WA State, Governor Inslee and the State Department of Health declared that outdoor activities are recommended, as long as you follow the “social distancing” guidelines.

But how do entire populations stick to guidelines?

In West Seattle, spring fever hit Alki Beach and stirred up controversy.  Social distancing seemed not to be given a thought on March 19.  There were people everywhere, riding bikes, skateboarding, and playing on the beach.  Despite state-wide closures of entertainment, leisure, and “non-essential” services, bike rentals and Alki’s Wheel Fun rentals were still open.

I love bicycling.  I “get it” that all work and no play make Jack and Jill a dull boy and girl.  But COVID-19 is our new normal for awhile.  If we don’t want martial law, we need to behave.

The scene is better at Lincoln Park.  No businesses there, just Nature writ large with its old growth forest and Puget Sound.  Parents, kids on scooters, singles, dog-walkers.  There is a palpable feel of enjoyment, of slowing down and using our senses, smiling at our neighbors (from a safe distance).  Less attention to cell phones, more eye contact.

Wouldn’t it be nice if this became the new normal?

It touches my heart.  Kids are making chalk drawings, writing words such as “Be excellent to each other.”  This is Lincoln Park’s Love Rock:

WP_20200322_001

Yes.  Love rocks!  Let’s be excellent to each other.   We are all in this together.  We are all struggling to find a new normal.

Bellingham – City of Subdued Excitement

/ Susan Romanenghi / Leave a comment

JuanDeFucaSunset.jpg

Strait of Juan DeFuca along base of Chuckanut Drive

Chuckanut Drive, a winding coastal ride on the way to Bellingham, WA, is a gem.  It is Washington State’s equivalent of California’s Big Sur with jaw-dropping glimpses of the sea and mountains along the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

The coastal drive to Bellingham and Fairhaven is one of my favorite field trips in WA State.  Evergreens ascend along the twisting road with glimpses of sea, sky, mountains and — what’s this? — a solitary and quaint old house perched on a cliff on the southern part of Chuckanut Drive.

The house belonged to the family of Edward R. Murrow, a WWII radio broadcaster and war correspondent (a predecessor to Walter Cronkite and the like).

Further north there’s Chuckanut Gallery, which allures with local art and a fantastic garden.

Bellingham20180045.JPG

Chuckanut Gallery

 

Bellingham20180032

Bellingham  is the last city in WA before reaching Vancouver, Canada.  When we moved to Seattle twenty-something years ago, we were intrigued by travel articles about this historical border city which in the mid-1800’s vied with Seattle for becoming the prominent port city.  Seattle, of course, won the title and is NOT subdued in its excitement.

(In fact Seattle’s excitement is more annoyance over crowded highways  and overdevelopment of real estate and Amazon drones and what happened to the Seattle we moved to? …  I could go on but I shall subdue.)

Bellingham, I sure hope you can maintain “subdued,” and keep your charm.

I reminisce…

It was a dark and stormy day — a Sunday — when we first visited you in the 1990’s.  We were on our way to your soup festival.  Hubby had been wise-cracking about the Strait of Juan de Fuca along Chuckanut Drive:  If there were a university here, would it be called  Fuca U?

Hahaha.  I turned to my friend Llana, also a soup fancier, who in fact was a former student at Western Washington University in Bellingham.  Was that the joke when you were here?  Did students call the place Fuca U?

But maybe I didn’t ask her that.  Maybe instead I was distracted by the thick, slanting rain, the charcoal clouds as we climbed Chuckanut Drive.

As we rocked down to Electric Avenue in search of the soup festival, we spotted the sign:  Bellingham.  City of Subdued Excitement.

We could see why.   Other than the community center where we had our soup, not many places were open that Sunday.  The only roadside attraction open was the Whatcom Museum.

They had…are you ready?…an exhibit displaying bicycle reflector art.  We strolled inside and the museum attendant handed us flashlights.

“What are these for,” I asked.

“You shine them on the bike reflectors,” she said.

That was trippy.

It’s not often that I get to Bellingham these days.  Nor the Fairhaven district in Bellingham, which was a popular hippie enclave in the 1960’s.

Here’s more about the city of “subdued excitement” on Bellingham’s Fish & Bicycles site.

Our rainy, Sunday coastal drive and the soup festival and museum seem sweet now.  I think I need a field trip.