Where Did I Live

I went to Seattle over the weekend to take care of some business and try and get back in touch with my past. We lived in 4 different houses in the Seattle area while I was growing up. My mission was to find and photograph them. I knew that two of them didn't exist anymore. The first house was the Maple Valley house. This was a log cabin that my dad rented for the Summer of 1957. It was a log cabin with a dirt floor for the kitchen and living room area. The rest of it had a poured concrete floor. There was a river in the backyard and my mother lived in fear that my brother or I would fall in. Being kids of course it was the only place we wanted to play. I'm not sure when but it was torn down and new house was built in its place.

The second house was the Des Moines Way house. I lived there from age 7 to 21. This was the first house my parents bought in Seattle. It was remodeled after my sister was born. My dad built an addition to the house and made it from a two bedroom to three bedroom house. My dad and I rewired the house and re plumbed it. Well, my dad did the work I was helper and gopher. I did paint the interior with some help from mom. The house was under one of the runways for Sea-Tac Airport and was eventually bought up by the airport. My parents traded it for a house on Vashon Island. For years after it was bought up the house sat there empty and boarded up. It was finally bulldozed down. It has been several years since since I was last there and I drove by it twice before I was able to find the spot. It is now a part of a natural area and greenbelt. The trees we planted 40 years ago are now giants. I was able to find several of the red cedars and Douglas firs. Still there was no indication that there had ever been a house there. It was as if my family and I had never existed.

I then went looking for the Wolf house. This was another rental. It was between the log cabin and the Des Moines Way house. We lived there about one year and I believe that mom and dad had tired to buy it. I drove to the street only to find it was yet another victim of the airport. The area was fenced off and the weeds and blackberries had completely overgrown the area and there was no house visible. Another part of my childhood gone.

Next I decided to go to Vashon and see that house. I never lived in it but I spent many days and nights there while visiting my parents. My mom always said that she never thought she would live in house with a view. The house sits on a hill and has views of downtown Seattle and the Olympic Mountains. Unfortunately mom found out she had macular degeneration after living there only a couple of years. When dad died in 2000 mom sold the house and moved back to Seattle to be closer to my sister. As I drove up the house looked very different. Mom and dad had painted it a light shade of gray with a red front door. The house was now green with a very uninviting black door. The house was for sale and the sign said 'View Property". I thought of mom and started to cry. I went to my dad's grave site, which is on the island, and discovered that I had run out of tears for myself, for the memories or anything else.

I got back in the car and drove down to the ferry terminal and waited for my turn to drive on board. When I got off in West Seattle I didn't even drive by the first house we had lived in. I just couldn't have bared to find that it was gone also. I do know that at least for me the old saying is true, "You really can't go home again".

Like Father Like Son

My father would have loved the internet and email. He was thinking about getting a computer just before his death in 2000 but at 87 he was wondering if he wanted to learn yet one more new technology. He was a letter writer. To be more specific he was a crank, there was nothing government could do that he wouldn't find fault with. He would think about a problem and then write to the person or person in that part of government with a solution to the problem. He wrote numerous letters to the State of Washington about problems ranging from taxation to road repair. He wrote to the members of the state legislature and to the members of Washington's Congressional Delegation. Given the number of letters he wrote a computer and email would have been a real advantage.

Like my father I too write letters to Idaho's Congressional Delegation about things that I feel passionate about. Unlike my father I use the internet and I don't think I'm a crank, yet. I like being able to write something and send it immediately. Dad had an old typewriter, a large address book, lots of paper, envelopes and postage. I have a computer, Google and email. Unlike my father I tend to vent my feelings about issues and only rarely do I have an alternative. With the economy, the war in Iraq and all the bailouts I have had plenty to vent about.

As I think about it maybe I'm a crank. My father at least had solutions to the problems he wrote about, I just complain. I'm not to the point were I complain about kids moving the rocks in the driveway but it could be just a matter of time. I have a brain and my dad always was telling me to use it. Well dad, I'm going to follow your advice and work on some solutions and send those to the idiots in Washington D.C. Maybe then they will read what I write and maybe things will change for the better. O, wait now I'm being overly optimistic and dad was never that.