Geno's On Ambaum

Geno's is a cafe I pass twice each day on the way to and from work. I stopped by this morning to get a cup of coffee and a muffin. The coffee could use some kick and the muffin isn't great, but the atmosphere is warm and it feels good to sit at a square formica table with one of those silver napkin dispensers to keep me company. An old faded carpet covers the floor and the regulars sit and crack jokes about the owner as he pours drinks behind the counter, smiling. The folks exchange stories back and forth - "My granddaughter...she's fourteen going on eighteen". "Yeah. I got a grandson. He's six and going on sixteen!"

The patrons are white. Older. There's a couple in their mid fifties - the man wears those glasses that get darker when he goes outside. Then there's a mother and daugther sipping their neopolitan iced coffees, giggling and laughing with the cook as she comes out front, her apron full of flour. The daughter is about sixty and her mother at least eighty, diminutive, wrinkled and with a freshly coifed hairdo. She's got big, bright eyes behind thick glasses and a smile that has greeted many a weary traveler.

They all know each other. Familiar. They know each others' ways, moods and just the way they like their coffee.

A top forty song croons out of a speaker in the corner of the room, the singer pleading for his lost love, for a connection. And here are folks catching up, talking, ignoring the drama in the newspaper scattered haphazard across the table.

The owner, with a piece of coffee cake, sits down with the mother and daughter, joined by his wife, the cook.

Geno's is a family-run joint. Dad and mom manage and cook while the two boys work the counter and stock the pastry cases. They're recent immigrants, though I don't know from where. The parents speak with an accent - Thai, maybe Vietnamese - while the boys talk just like all other American teenagers, that is when they decide to talk at all.

Mother and daughter are leaving now. Kind farewells are exchanged. The daugther makes a little joke about the boy behind the counter going off to college. His mother, refilling the coffee urn, chides him gently. He blushes, looking down at the broom he holks in his hand, sweeping it across the floor.

A couple of guys have found their way in. One is reading the sports section, the other checking messages on his phone. Wearing old, worn t-shirts on their day off, they've come for a coffee or two and a maybe a little someting to eat.

Smiles and greetings all around.

John Mayer is singing about waiting on the world to change. But maybe it has.

The Whale Song

Here's a link to a performance of Deb McArthur and I playing 'I Wanna Be a Whale' at the Northwest Aquatic and Marine Educators conference in Friday Harbor. It is quite silly, but a lot of fun.

The Whale Song

If you look closely, you'll see my brother in the crowd. He looks a lot like me, only more handsome and a bit younger.
Oh, and here are some photos form that conference as well.

Mt. St. Helens

Here are some photos from a hike of Mt. St. Helens yesterday. I'll try to write more later and you can see more photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/womoses/MtStHelensAug0802

Peace,
Woody

Trip to RI

I've had the same depressing post on my blog since December. Much has changed since then so I thought I would do a little update.

Here are some photos from my Memorial Day Weekend trip to Rhode Island . I went to celebrate my sister's college graduation. Not only did she complete a double major in math and education, but within a week of graduating she was hired for a full-time position. Way to go sis!

While I was back I also had the opportunity to visit with some old friends and their little one (and she is INCREDIBLY cute.) I also got to visit with some relatives I hadn't seen since my grandmother's funeral in 1999. They still look like me...or is it that I look like them?

Anyway, fear not...more blog posts will follow.

My Car Crash

I was in a car crash yesterday.

While making a left turn from SW Morgan onto SW 35th, I was hit by an on-coming chevy blazer. I don't remember much before the impact, but I can still see the passengers door explode and watch the street through the windshield as I skid across the intersection.

I turned the car off and looked around. It was just about 5 o'clock - twilight - and the rain was a steady drizzle. I got out and saw people looking at me from all directions. I saw the car that hit me on the other side of the intersection. I ran over to see if the driver was okay.

The man behind the wheel rolled down his window and asked if I was okay. I hadn't really thought of that, but I didn't hurt and I could walk fine. He said he was okay, but would need to have his car towed. I went back to my car to move it out of the intersection and parked it at the gas station at the corner. By then, the reality of the situation was starting to sink in and I began mumbling to myself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...." I kept repeating the mantra over and over again. I grabbed my insurance information from the glove compartment and headed back to the other car.

The other drive was talking to a woman holding an umbrella. "Do you two want to sit in my car and exchange info?" We got into her minivan (I remember it being quite clean.) The other driver was very composed and kind. "The important thing is that no one was hurt. It's just property."

There was a knock on my window. I rolled it down. A policeman was standing there.
"Everyone okay?" Yes.
"Are you exchanging insurance information?" Yes.
"Could someone move that Blazer out of traffic?" Sure.
Then he left.

By this point, I was starting to freak out. I got back to my car, but realized I hadn't gotten the other driver's insurance number. So I ran back and asked him for it.

"Oh, sure. Here you go. I'm just glad everyone's okay." I wanted to hug him. He seemed so calm and I wasn't. I wanted to know everything was okay. I now realized that being able to talk, stand and use my body meant that, in fact, everything was way more okay than it could have been. (This realization is currently giving me a lot of sollace.)

I got in my car and screamed for a minute. Once I'd gotten that out, I started the car and pulled out onto the street.

The car was definitely out of alignment, but drove surprisingly well. My nerves were shot and I proceeded down the road with my hazard lights on driving about 20mph. Every car that passed me in the other lane gave me a little jolt. The sound of the wipers sliding across the cracked windshield reminded me of the impact.

I was afraid of the car breaking down, so I decided to take surface roads home. I dropped onto what I thought was Spokane St, but soon found myself driving in the dark on an unfamiliar road. After a bit, I turned the car around to take my chances with the highway.

About this time, my fingers began to tingle. The my lips tingled. And then my chest was tingling and my hands were shaking. I couldn't control my fingers and gripped the steering wheel with my palms. My chest was shaking now and I realized I should probably see a doctor before I tried to drive home.

I knew of a hospital in West Seattle, not far from the accident, so I backtracked my way there. At an intersection I realized that having my hazards on meant no one could tell which way I was turning, so I drove with my arm stuck out the window like I was on a bike.

I found the hospital and drove around looking for the emergency room . There wasn't one. In fact, Providence Mt. St. Vincent didn't appeared to be much of a hospital. I parked the car and ran to the main entrance. The automatic doors parted and inside there were a lot of old people. Shit. Nursing home.

I figured there must be a nurse around somewhere, and all I needed was someone with some training to tell me I wasn't going to die, that I was just freaking out from the accident and everything would be okay. I found a nurse and he looked at me like I was crazy. I can't blame him. My hair was wet from standing in the rain and I was shaking.

I asked him to see a 'health care professional'. He said he could call 911.
"You can't help me? You're a nurse, right?"
"I can call 911," he repeated.
"Liability. Right?"
"Yep," he said as he picked up the phone and dialed. "There's a man here who says he's been in a car accident and wants to see a doctor." (I did sound like a nut - going to a nursing home to find a doctor.)

The nurse found me a wheelchair to sit in. An old man with a sippy cup looked at me like I was taking his favorite chair. The nurse wheeled me over to the entrance and said, "This is where they'll come in."

After sitting in the wheel chair for five minutes trying to breathe calmly (which wasn't working), a fire truck showed up. I thought, "That's not necessary."

Five firemen walked in and surrounded me. One guy asked me questions about the accident and another guy took my pulse and blood pressure. The captain - I know he was the captain because the other guys called him 'captain' - sat next to me and watched as his men looked me over. After a few minutes of questions, a guy with 'Brown' on his name tag told me "You've experienced a trauma and your body is in shock."

Yes, it is. Yes, it is.

They told me to relax for a bit and things would be okay. Good. That's what I needed to hear. The shaking began to subside. And then they left me in the nursing home foyer and drove off in the fire truck.

I walked back to my car, got in and drove home.

Sole Duc

Gregory and I made, what I hope will become, our annual backpacking trip in the Olympic National Park. We did the 'The Loop' around the Seven Lakes Basin. We started Sunday from the Sole Duc trailhead and headed south up the Sole Duc river to camp at Sole Duc Park. I found a couple of king boletes and was able to eat one for dinner that night Had we been on the ball we would have reserved a spot at Heart Lake, which sits just below the High Divide Trail. Monday was a short day as we traversed the High Divide trail for a couple miles and caught some amazing views of Mt. Olympus. We then dropped down into the Seven Lakes Basin and saw our only bear of the trip - a black bear foraging on the abundant blue berries. We set up camp at Lunch Lake and proceeded to become lunch for the swarms of mosquitoes that descended upon us. Thankfully we both had head nets. I found a King Bolete by the privy and we ate fresh boletes for two nights in a row.

We went to be around 10 and then awoke at 1:30 am to watch the full lunar eclipse. We had front row seats and the sky was so clear it felt like the movies. I stayed up for an hour and Gregory for longer. The most amazing thing about it was how dark it got. With the clear sky and the full moon - there's always a full moon during a lunar eclipse - it was really light out before the eclipse. We were able to walk around easily without headlamps. At the peak of the eclipse, it really felt like night. For those who haven't seen a lunar eclipse, the moon doesn't go completely black, but it does turn a deep orange. It's pretty cool.

Tuesday we got up and made a quick breakfast to avoid the mosquitoes and then headed downhill, stopping at Deer Lake for lunch. I had to catch a ferry, so we didn't have much time to waste. We huffed it out of the woods and made the car by 2:30.

It was a great trip, but short. Gregory and I both agree that if you're going to load your pack with gear, you've got to spend at least three nights. While I the High Divide, we both got the itch to do the Bailey Traverse, that rings around Mt. Olympus. It looks like it would be phenomenal - a life changing experience. But that will have to wait for next summer.

More Broughton Photos