Sometimes change sucks

In May Zack started delivering the West Seattle Herald to about 30 customers around our neighborhood on Wednesday afternoons.  His first time doing the route by himself was in the pouring rain, pulling papers out of his backpack, checking addresses off his list, trying to keep everything dry – what a miserable way to start a job.  Susan got a tearful call from our newly-minted carrier, and was able to help him get the papers delivered and figure out some easier ways to do it next time.

Zack settled right into the routine.  His buddies helped him deliver papers.  He struck up friendly conversations with neighbors.  He acquired new customers, earned tips, and wrote thank you notes.  He deposited checks in his new bank account and had his own money to spend on the school band trip to Idaho.  Zack enjoyed a responsibility that belonged just to him.

Now big newspapers are fighting for survival.  Our own well-loved Seattle Post-Intelligencer lost the fight a few months ago, leaving the city with one daily paper that has no soul.  Smaller papers are feeling the squeeze, too.  The West Seattle Herald is consolidating its operations and switching to distribution by mail, and this past Wednesday was the last time neighborhood carriers delivered the paper.

Like millions of boys, having a paper route was Zack’s first regular job.  Like millions of Americans, he recently lost his job.  He’s already had at least one of his customers ask if he’s available for other work, so it’s good that he can see how ‘referrals’ and ‘networking’ and ‘good customer service’ come into play.  It just bugs me a little bit that he had his first taste of ‘unemployment’ at the age of 13.

…and to The Republic

“The Republic” is a Seattle indie rock band.  Following are excerpts from my note to one of the band members.

I can’t tell you how much we enjoyed seeing The Republic’s performance last Saturday evening.  Here’s a little background:

• Susan and I are both 57.
• She is not as much of a rocker as I am.  In 23+ years of marriage I have never come home to find her with the stereo cranked up.
• She told me during the day on Saturday that she’d probably want to leave the show early.
• Lauren (15) and Zack (13) are pretty sure that most things we like would be real snoozers for them.

Well – we all stayed for the whole show and:

• Susan loved every minute of it.
• The kids enjoyed hearing and seeing the band.
• Zack has loaded Kingdom of Noise onto his iPod.
• He’s more interested than ever in playing drums, and will have the youth group’s drum set at our house this summer.
• Lauren came home from school the other day, thought the house was too quiet, and put on Kingdom of Noise.

I’m sure you guys get lots of positive feedback about your shows.  I think you’re in a class of your own.  As an old-timer, I lack the language to describe your genre and style, but there are tangible qualities of love, joy, and conviction – so much heart – coming through your music and stage presence.  I’d even say that I felt loved just seeing and listening to The Republic.  Quite different from a DEVO concert I attended years ago in which the members of the band actually got off the stage and walked on people in the audience!  I suppose their actions matched their beliefs.

. . . . . . . . . .

I’m a true blue fan and would be happy to do whatever I could to advance the cause of The Republic.

Sometimes I amaze myself

For years we* have made half-hearted attempts to come up with a free-standing system to allow our pea vines to grow up on a string trellis.  Seems simple enough, but we always ended up with something that was inadequate or ugly or both.

* Susan’s done the lion’s share of work in the garden

Last year we decided to plant the peas in a different part of the garden and take advantage of a large beam extending out over that paht of the yahd.  I tacked a bunch of little finishing brads into the beam and into a 2×3 (I’m calling it a footer) that lay on the ground.  Loop the string around the nails, and there’s our trellis.  On a nice angle, too, to keep the vines off of the house.

All was fine and dandy until the peas got going and put some weight on the strings.  Rocks and bricks didn’t keep the footer in place, strings came off the little nails – all hell was breaking loose on the string trellis!  If I pounded rebar into the ground to anchor that blasted footer, we might put our eyes out or rip open our legs when we later forgot that the rebar lay hidden there in some weeds.  I’d have to think of something different next year.

And I did.

First of all,  no more little nails barely visible to the naked eye.  We’ve got a row of screw eyes in the footer:

eyelets spaced about 5" apart on the ground...

... and on the beam.

McLendon Hardware stocks solutions to almost every problem.  Even if you don’t find exactly the solution you’re looking for, you may very well find needed inspiration there.  Mine came in the form of a gizmo for securing a leash:

I removed the swiveling collars, drilled a big hole in each end of my footer, and twisted them into the ground.  If you can open a bottle of wine, you can do this:

The corkscrew anchors were $1.89 each.  That footer is going nowhere, strings stay taut, and when the peas are done we’ll just cut the twine, unscrew the footer, and put the assembly away until next year.  How’s that for a simple, elegant solution?

A thing of beauty.

Thawing outside and inside

The beautiful blanket of snow that covered our fair city for most of the last ten days has lost about 99% of its charm.  Temperatures in the mid-30s and intermittent rain have turned light, dry snow into heavy, wet slop.  It’s no longer good for sledding, snowballs, or even walking.  We’re ready for it to go away.  To that end, as Susan and I walked to the neighborhood bakery this morning we cleared snow from every storm drain we knew of along the way.

On Christmas Eve an awful lot of people seemed to have last-minute errands.  Unfortunately, that brought out the cars.

I was just starting to make Swedish Toast when neighbor Maureen called for help.  She was assisting an older gentleman whose car was stuck across part of the road at the bottom of our hill.  We ended up putting chains on his older Mercedes.  I got behind the wheel but made no progress going up the street.  He left us with his car and walked up the hill to get more help.  By the time he came back with his grandson and a bottle of wine, we’d managed to get his car off the street.

As I walked back up the hill, neighbor Lisa was standing by her car at the top of her steep driveway.  She hadn’t driven for eight days and missed the last five days of work.  Afflicted with cabin fever, she thought conditions might be good enough to try to get her car out.  I shoveled two tracks down the driveway so she’d have bare pavement to drive down.  That worked okay, but the slush at the bottom of the driveway convinced her to ‘quit while she was behind.’  I drove her about three miles to work in our trusty all-wheel drive Toyota van.  On our way we passed Mr Mercedes putting on chains again, with faithful neighbor Maureen standing guard to make sure he didn’t get run over by passing cars.

* * * * * * * * * *

An article in today’s paper included a picture of a man dressed like Jesus to “show people what Christmas is all about.”  Apparently about 400 people from a church in Kansas are doing something similar.  The man in the picture wore a beard, a white robe, and a crown of thorns, and was reading a newspaper over a cappuccino.

How am I going to explain this to my neighbors?

As I read the scriptures, it seems more likely we’d find Jesus in a Tent City or a soup kitchen or a hospital than sipping a cappuccino at Starbucks.

“When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink?  And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?”  Then the King will say, “I’m telling the solemn truth:  Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me–you did it to me.’  (Matthew 25)

Jesus might be seen in the face of one serving a hot meal, offering shelter, or visiting a prisoner.  Or he might be seen in the face of one being fed or housed or visited; or maybe even the guy needing help chaining up his car.  A good reminder to me – and perhaps to you – during this Christmas season.

Cabin fever

During these snowy days we’ve taken some nice walks, played games, watched movies, checked in with neighbors, done some reading, cleaned up and put stuff away.  Susan and a neighbor walked to the library and back.  I shoveled snow off of an older neighbor’s skylights so they don’t leak or collapse under the weight of wet snow.

I like the snow.  Like being out in it, then being cozy and warm in the house.  Like the fact that we didn’t drive anywhere for three days.  But Susan’s been feeling a little ‘cooped up’ with a mild case of cabin fever.

When I think of cabin fever, I think of two scenarios involving lots of snow:  1) Kathy Bates ‘taking care of’ James Caan after his car goes off the road in a blizzard in Misery;  and 2) Jack Nicholson chopping his way through hotel room doors (“Heeeere’s JOHNNY!”) in The Shining.

So when Susan complains of cabin fever, I get nervous.

Fortunately, so far she’s done things like clean the inside of our medicine cabinet (it’s beautiful), go after grout stains with a bleach pen (dazzling), organize the sewing cupboard (much more useful now), and wipe down the windows that still have aluminum frames (they need it).  But the other night the knitting needles came out and she started “working on a hat.”  Susan doesn’t do much knitting, and this seemed a little ominous.

I’d better get going on some spackling and sanding that needs to be finished.  In the meantime, the axes and sledgehammers will stay hidden until after the snow melts.  And I’m keeping an eye on those knitting needles.

Around the ‘hood

Cars in the driveway on Sunday:

Car in the driveway on Monday:

Wind + snow:

Wind + snow + roof:

For skiing on the beach:

For taking it all in at Lincoln Park:

Snow flakes

Beautiful snow brings out the dark side when people get behind the wheel.  Consider these snow flakes:

My Way or the Highway Flakes. Even after several days of snow and sub-freezing temperatures, these charter buses weren’t chained up.  Denny Way, a main arterial, was closed because of ice, so the first bus opted for a steep, icy side street instead.  Unable to stop on the ice, it slid into a guardrail.  Bus #2 followed, crashing into the first and pushing it through the guardrail.  Both buses hung 20 feet above I-5 in the middle of downtown as 80 screaming kids scrambled to get out.

Definition of Insanity Flake. As soon as the tires started to slip, a driver trying to go up our street would hit the gas, get his wheels really spinning, and lose control of his car.  Backing into driveways or all the way to the bottom of the hill, he repeated one unsuccessful run after another.  After his tenth attempt, I went out to the driver and offered to try it for him.  “I think I’m doing fine,” came the reply.  “I’ve almost got it.”  Alrighty then.

Clueless in Seattle Flake. Coming up from a walk in Lincoln Park, I joined several others pushing a car that was stuck in the parking lot.  Turned out that the driver had no idea of what he was doing.  Slipping a little to the left, he’d crank his wheels all the way to the right.  We pushed from behind, he’d put the car in reverse.  Eventually he fishtailed out of the parking lot, leaving the other good samaritans and me to wonder if we had actually helped anyone.

Knowing that drivers like these are out on the roads is one of the best reasons to stay home.  If you have to go out, please be extra, extra careful!