The Empire Builder was a couple of hours late into Everett and Jim wasn't quite there when the train arrived around noon. It was a short ride from the train station to their home, where his wife Carla was waiting to greet me.
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| Carla at the bandstand in Snohomish. |
Not losing any time, we hopped into the car and headed out to Snohomish, a small artsy village nearby. The main street was quaint, with restored old buildings and funky boutiques. The town sits on the Snohomish River.
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| A totem pole tucked behind the bandstand |
The day was overcast but there was no rain, so we strolled up the main street and down along the river path before getting back to the car and heading for Mukilteo, where the ferry to Whidby Island is located. We walked along the the beach on the Sound and passed by the historical lighthouse and watched the ferry arrive from the island.
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| It's clearly labeled: Mark's Building! |
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| Jim and Carla |
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| The lighthouse in Mukilteo |
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| A gray whale spout from the ferry |
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| Carla, Jim and a bronze in Langley |
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| Tulips from Jim's camera |
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| Chance pre-video game |
Jim built a hot tub in their back yard, and after dinner we both took a nice long soak, and I think I shocked Jim a little with my views on state's rights and the importance of limiting federal oversight to such issues as civil rights and constitutional issues, while leaving the interpretation and execution of formal programs to the states themselves. (I am socially extremely liberal, but my take on government tends to be on the conservative side.)
At this point, as with most blog entries, I have to stop and think what happened on which day. Sometimes I move a meal from one day to the next, or will recall watching a movie on one day when it really happened on another. As I said, I really should take notes.
My recollection of Monday was that I pretty much sat around and surfed the web looking at real estate prices in the Seattle area, on Whidby Island and near Everett. There were properties in my price range, but they were limited and not really in the areas that I thought might be good places to live. But I realize more research needs to be done.
I also had come across a few very nice lots near Langley, services already in place, and spent some time looking into prefabricated and modular housing options, seeing if perhaps something like that might be a solution for my new home. One of my fantasies has always to live in a geodesic dome. More research needed there, as well.
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| Robins raid the mulch in the front yard. |
One sad part of my visit was the fact that Carla was trying to handle her 91-year-old mother's post-operative care long distance, and it wasn't working so well. Her mother was just in hospital for surgery (I will spare you the dismal details) and was recovering well but not quite ready to be in her home. Kaiser (her health care provider) thought differently, though, and was discharging her without any support or supplemental care coverage (any aftercare at home would have to be provided by the family, of whom there are few if any other than Carla).
Carla's mother, Edith, can best be described as cantankerous, and in a most intractable way. So, after a week in the hospital, her fuse is very short, if not non-existent. Luckily, there are a couple caregivers in San Bernardino (her home town) who are visiting her and can look after her at home…but not full time. So Carla is flying down this week to organize, coordinate and help out.
After my experience with Steve's illness and death, my heart really goes out to her, and I'm even more impressed that she had the time to spend with me during my visit.
The saddest news of all came early Wednesday morning when I checked my e-mail. EVERETT
The Empire Builder was a couple of hours late into Everett and Jim wasn't quite there when the train arrived around noon. It was a short ride from the train station to their home, where his wife Carla was waiting to greet me.
Not losing any time, we hopped into the car and headed out to Snohomish, a small artsy village nearby. The main street was quaint, with restored old buildings and funky boutiques. The town sat on the Snohomish River.
The day was overcast but there was no rain, so we strolled up the main street and down along the river path before getting back to the car and heading for Mukilteo, where the ferry to Whideby Island is located. We walked along the the beach on the Sound and passed by the historical lighthouse and watched the ferry arrive from the island.
That evening we ate Chinese, bringing the remainder back for Chance, their 18-year-old son, who was deep in the machinations of a model U.N. weekend. He was the delegate from Australia and spoke of resolutions to train kangaroos to help those in need in developing countries and other such diplomatic falderal.
The bed in their guest room was blissfully firm, so I had a good night's rest and slept in until almost 10 the next morning. Jim put together an egg scramble with the leftover vegetables from the Chinese repast the night before, served up with fresh fruit and fresh-baked croissants. It was a real treat.
For our day trip, we returned to Mukilteo and actually boarded the ferry for a trip around Whidby Island, starting first in Clinton (sort of a wide spot in the road with small neighborhoods nestled in the trees), then stopping at Langley, a sort of artists' colony with a large collection of retired hippies.
We walked the center of Langley (about four blocks square) and stopped in to grab some lunch at a very nice place. Carla had the chicken liver mousse on toast points, I had their version of a croque monsieur and, honestly, I don't recall what Jim had (you can e-mail him and ask if it's really important to you).
After lunch we drove around the island, checking out what seemed to be village after village of small communities. As we headed north, though, it got more populated, and Carla explained that the north end of the island was a naval air base. We stopped in at a convenience store/gas station so Carla could make a pit stop, and It was obvious from the clientele who came and went that the air base was not far away.
The real treat of the island, beyond Langley, was Deception Pass, where the sound narrows and the tidal currents become so fast you can see them as the water moves in and out. I shot numerous photos of the bridge and the waters, but resorted to video in order to capture the visual flow of the tidal currents.
From there we headed back toward to the mainland over a large bridge whose name I cannot recall (I really need to take notes on these excursions). Then there was a small detour to check out the daffodil and tulips that festoon the fields along the bottom land. There were some daffodils evident, but the fields were just yellow blobs in my photos, so Jim lent me some photos he had taken the previous year to show examples of how beautiful it wasn't because of the late winter this year.
When we returned home, Chance had come back from the final assembly of the model U.N., and it was decided we should eat at Lucky Buffet, a place that had everything from sushi to Chinese to pizza to Mongolian stir fry; kind of an Asian themed smorgasbord
with American favorites thrown in. While looking over the wonton and egg rolls I got a wide smile from a middle-aged gentleman returning to his seat, where another gentleman was seated. My gaydar went off, realizing here was a couple who had also pegged me. (Don't ask me how we do it, but gay men can sense one another in just about any social environment; sorry that can't be said for the rest of the population).
Jim built a hot tub in their back yard, and after dinner we both took a nice long soak, and I think I shocked Jim a little with my views on state's rights and the importance of limiting federal oversight to such issues as civil rights and constitutional issues, while leaving the interpretation and execution of formal programs to the states themselves. (I am socially extremely liberal, but my take on government tends to be on the conservative side.)
At this point, as with most blog entries, I have to stop and think what happened on which day. Sometimes I move a meal from one day to the next, or will recall watching a movie on one day when it really happened on another. As I said, I really should take notes.
My recollection of Monday was that I pretty much sat around and surfed the web looking at real estate prices in the Seattle area, on Whidby Island and near Everett. There were properties in my price range, but they were limited and not really in the areas that I thought might be good places to live. But I realize more research needs to be done.
I also had come across a few very nice lots near Langley, services already in place, and spent some time looking into prefabricated and modular housing options, seeing if perhaps something like that might be a solution for my new home. One of my fantasies has always to live in a geodesic dome. More research needed there, as well.
Monday night the rains came, and Tuesday Jim and Chance were at work and school. Carla had an eye appointment and was out and about until the afternoon. Chance got home from school, chatted for a bit and then headed to his video game. Carla spent most of the afternoon on the phone, but it was not out of rudeness.
One sad part of my visit was the fact that Carla was trying to handle her 91-year-old mother's post-operative care long distance, and it wasn't working so well. Her mother was just in hospital for surgery (I will spare you the dismal details) and was recovering well but not quite ready to be in her home. Kaiser (her health care provider) thought differently, though, and was discharging her without any support or supplemental care coverage (any aftercare at home would have to be provided by the family, or whom there are few if any other than Carla).
Carla's mother, Edith, can best be described as cantankerous, and in a most intractable way. So, after a week in the hospital, her fuse is very short, if not non-existent. Luckily, there are a couple caregivers in San Bernardino (her home town) who are visiting her and can look after her at home…but not full time. So Carla is flying down this week to organize, coordinate and help out.
After my experience with Steve's illness and death, my heart really goes out to her, and I'm even more impressed that she had the time to spend with me during my visit.
The saddest news of all came early Wednesday morning when I checked my e-mail. There had been a massive landslide (nearly a mile wide) that had struck near Seattle as my train was arriving on Saturday. In my e-mail was a forwarded message from Cousin Beth verified that our Cousin, Tom Durnell, was almost certainly killed in the slide. His house was obliterated by the mud and debris. His wife was at work at the time of the slide, but Tom had retired and was most likely working in his wood shop at the time. Jim was just as shocked as I was, for he thought Tom's new home wasn't in the slide area at all.
While sitting at the dining room table with my coffee, rolling all this over in my head, I glanced at a stoneware plate that stood upright in the kitchen. It had "Coshocton, O." written across the top, with a stylized tree in the center. Then it hit me: that was the town where my Steve was born.
I don't know what that portends, but it smacks of metaphysical connections that I can only guess at for the moment.
The Empire Builder was a couple of hours late into Everett and Jim wasn't quite there when the train arrived around noon. It was a short ride from the train station to their home, where his wife Carla was waiting to greet me.
Not losing any time, we hopped into the car and headed out to Snohomish, a small artsy village nearby. The main street was quaint, with restored old buildings and funky boutiques. The town sat on the Snohomish River.
The day was overcast but there was no rain, so we strolled up the main street and down along the river path before getting back to the car and heading for Mukilteo, where the ferry to Whideby Island is located. We walked along the the beach on the Sound and passed by the historical lighthouse and watched the ferry arrive from the island.
That evening we ate Chinese, bringing the remainder back for Chance, their 18-year-old son, who was deep in the machinations of a model U.N. weekend. He was the delegate from Australia and spoke of resolutions to train kangaroos to help those in need in developing countries and other such diplomatic falderal.
The bed in their guest room was blissfully firm, so I had a good night's rest and slept in until almost 10 the next morning. Jim put together an egg scramble with the leftover vegetables from the Chinese repast the night before, served up with fresh fruit and fresh-baked croissants. It was a real treat.
For our day trip, we returned to Mukilteo and actually boarded the ferry for a trip around Whidby Island, starting first in Clinton (sort of a wide spot in the road with small neighborhoods nestled in the trees), then stopping at Langley, a sort of artists' colony with a large collection of retired hippies.
We walked the center of Langley (about four blocks square) and stopped in to grab some lunch at a very nice place. Carla had the chicken liver mousse on toast points, I had their version of a croque monsieur and, honestly, I don't recall what Jim had (you can e-mail him and ask if it's really important to you).
After lunch we drove around the island, checking out what seemed to be village after village of small communities. As we headed north, though, it got more populated, and Carla explained that the north end of the island was a naval air base. We stopped in at a convenience store/gas station so Carla could make a pit stop, and It was obvious from the clientele who came and went that the air base was not far away.
The real treat of the island, beyond Langley, was Deception Pass, where the sound narrows and the tidal currents become so fast you can see them as the water moves in and out. I shot numerous photos of the bridge and the waters, but resorted to video in order to capture the visual flow of the tidal currents.
From there we headed back toward to the mainland over a large bridge whose name I cannot recall (I really need to take notes on these excursions). Then there was a small detour to check out the daffodil and tulips that festoon the fields along the bottom land. There were some daffodils evident, but the fields were just yellow blobs in my photos, so Jim lent me some photos he had taken the previous year to show examples of how beautiful it wasn't because of the late winter this year.
When we returned home, Chance had come back from the final assembly of the model U.N., and it was decided we should eat at Lucky Buffet, a place that had everything from sushi to Chinese to pizza to Mongolian stir fry; kind of an Asian themed smorgasbord
with American favorites thrown in. While looking over the wonton and egg rolls I got a wide smile from a middle-aged gentleman returning to his seat, where another gentleman was seated. My gaydar went off, realizing here was a couple who had also pegged me. (Don't ask me how we do it, but gay men can sense one another in just about any social environment; sorry that can't be said for the rest of the population).
Jim built a hot tub in their back yard, and after dinner we both took a nice long soak, and I think I shocked Jim a little with my views on state's rights and the importance of limiting federal oversight to such issues as civil rights and constitutional issues, while leaving the interpretation and execution of formal programs to the states themselves. (I am socially extremely liberal, but my take on government tends to be on the conservative side.)
At this point, as with most blog entries, I have to stop and think what happened on which day. Sometimes I move a meal from one day to the next, or will recall watching a movie on one day when it really happened on another. As I said, I really should take notes.
My recollection of Monday was that I pretty much sat around and surfed the web looking at real estate prices in the Seattle area, on Whidby Island and near Everett. There were properties in my price range, but they were limited and not really in the areas that I thought might be good places to live. But I realize more research needs to be done.
I also had come across a few very nice lots near Langley, services already in place, and spent some time looking into prefabricated and modular housing options, seeing if perhaps something like that might be a solution for my new home. One of my fantasies has always to live in a geodesic dome. More research needed there, as well.
Monday night the rains came, and Tuesday Jim and Chance were at work and school. Carla had an eye appointment and was out and about until the afternoon. Chance got home from school, chatted for a bit and then headed to his video game. Carla spent most of the afternoon on the phone, but it was not out of rudeness.
One sad part of my visit was the fact that Carla was trying to handle her 91-year-old mother's post-operative care long distance, and it wasn't working so well. Her mother was just in hospital for surgery (I will spare you the dismal details) and was recovering well but not quite ready to be in her home. Kaiser (her health care provider) thought differently, though, and was discharging her without any support or supplemental care coverage (any aftercare at home would have to be provided by the family, or whom there are few if any other than Carla).
Carla's mother, Edith, can best be described as cantankerous, and in a most intractable way. So, after a week in the hospital, her fuse is very short, if not non-existent. Luckily, there are a couple caregivers in San Bernardino (her home town) who are visiting her and can look after her at home…but not full time. So Carla is flying down this week to organize, coordinate and help out.
After my experience with Steve's illness and death, my heart really goes out to her, and I'm even more impressed that she had the time to spend with me during my visit.
The saddest news of all came early Wednesday morning when I checked my e-mail. There had been a massive landslide (nearly a mile wide) that had struck near Seattle as my train was arriving on Saturday. In my e-mail was a forwarded message from Cousin Beth verified that our Cousin, Tom Durnell, was almost certainly killed in the slide. His house was obliterated by the mud and debris. His wife was at work at the time of the slide, but Tom had retired and was most likely working in his wood shop at the time. Jim was just as shocked as I was, for he thought Tom's new home wasn't in the slide area at all.
While sitting at the dining room table with my coffee, rolling all this over in my head, I glanced at a stoneware plate that stood upright in the kitchen. It had "Coshocton, O." written across the top, with a stylized tree in the center. Then it hit me: that was the town where my Steve was born.
I don't know what that portends, but it smacks of metaphysical connections that I can only guess at for the moment.
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