Tuesday, August 31, 2010

A CAR FOR ALL SEASONS Writing class 1989


In 1896, the Barnum and Bailey circus displayed an automobile as its major curiosity. This curiosity has become so much a part my life, that it is difficult to imagine getting along without it. Over the years the automobile has been a good friend, sheltering me from the elements, allowing me to get away from the mainstream of traffic. It has provided independence, freedom, and the opportunity for experiences that have awakened in me a variety of moods and emotions.

The first car important in my life was my fathers Model " T" Ford. On Sundays he would drive the family to the movies, if the car started. Dad would be in the front of the car turning the crank, while the rest of us silently prayed. It was a rare treat to ride in an automobile.
We walked to school, church and the grocery store. If we needed to shop at a department store, we walked a mile to the bus stop and flagged down the Greyhound bus headed for Seattle.

Learning to drive was especially challenging. Dad used the letter "H" to show me how to shift gears. When he was convinced that I understood the analogy, he gave me the car keys and let me drive solo, up and down Springbrook road.

In my early days of driving , I had several incidents that caused me extreme embarrassment.
I was driving up a very steep hill when the timing chain broke.The only direction possible was down. Without power steering it was difficult to control the direction. The problem was compounded by a passenger who felt the need to scream out directions. Although I avoided going over a cliff and managed to arrive safely at the bottom of the hill, I had turned the steering wheel in the opposite direction and landed in someone's garden. They were kind enough to allow my car a parking place until morning.

It wasn't necessary for me to leave home to have an embarrassing moment. I was backing out of the driveway and neglected to notice a log. I backed over it and high-centered the car. It was painful to show the tow-truck driver the problem.. He was amused.

This was my second problem backing up. The first happened when I backed out of the driveway without realizing that Joe had hooked the battery to the charger. I wondered why he was jumping up and down frantically waving his arms.

There have been times when I was the innocent victim. While driving down the Benson Highway towards Renton, the truck in front of me lost its spare tire. I honked, trying but failing to get the drivers attention. In the meantime, the tire raced towards me. Since there were cars in every lane, I was unable to avoid it. The tire rolled under the car, wedged itself into the fender well in an upright position, rendering the car immovable. A group of men who were doing some landscaping nearby, came to my aid. When they came to the open window, I said, "Whatever you're thinking, you're right." They lifting the car to free the runaway tire. I was grateful and happy, even though they had the same expression on their faces that my husband has when he thinks a situation could have been avoided.

When our sons became active in sports, my driving schedule became hectic. By this time I was an experienced driver but had navigational problems. The car was always filled with children without rides. Everyone loved to ride with Mrs MacKenzie because she did all those neat things like getting lost, locking the keys in the car and forgetting her son in the park.
Yes, I forgot my child once ( he says twice) and that was more than enough. John still reminds me of the time I had so many ballplayers in the car that I forgot him. I was half way around the block before I noticed he was missing. I can still picture him patiently waiting for his mom. After that incident I took roll. Sorry John.

When our sons were old enough to drive and had saved enough money to buy a car, our property resembled a used car lot. Since my husband and sons did their own car repairs, every vehicle that still had a useful part was saved. Every so often they would get rid of the deadbeats.
It was wonderful to see the grass again. We had an old VW that we sold to a man for parts. He paid for the car and said he would haul it away in a few days. It was seven years before he returned.

The only new car that has ever graced our garage is an English Cobra built by our son, Mike.
Seeing all the work and skill involved caused me to respect his interest and appreciate his talent. That being said, it is now in our field in a trailer waiting for Mike to decide his next action. He has the record now, beating out the man with the VW by about seven years.

One of the fears of every driver is getting a ticket. I received one of those evil pieces of paper for driving too slow. The roads were covered with black ice and there was very little traffic. Because of these factors I felt the ticket was not justified. I decided to go to court. I was frightened yet determined as I entered the courtroom. A young lawyer was the prosecuting attorney. I had newspaper clippings with photographs of the black ice, and warnings in bold print of the driving hazards. After hearing my testimony the lawyer threw his arms in the air, in complete frustration. The judge ruled in my favor resulting in my complete happiness.

Many of the happiest moments of my life have involved the automobile. Moments I cherish include getting to know my husband, driving away together after our wedding, traveling home from the hospital with our new born children, long drives with my husband and our many camping trips.

Because of my friendship with the automobile, I worry about its future. Efforts are being made to control emissions, but the obsession of people with cars is a greater problem.
Car pooling needs to be accepted as a way of life. Support is needed for a rail system, underground transit, whatever the experts decide is best. We may have to surrender some of our independence. If we don't face this dilemma, we may find ourselves with no space to drive, victims of a gigantic grid-lock. Perhaps the automobile will again become a "curiosity" seen only in museums.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Feisty and fabulous Myrtle

1990

On April 30, the doctors gave Myrtle twenty-four hours to live. Quite a few days have passed since then and she is still with us. I told Myrtle last year that I thought she'd live to be a hundred. She said the Dr. told her the same thing. We were both wrong.
I visited Myrtle Saturday morning and it was a shock to see her. The long flowing gray hair I was so used to seeing was completely gone. Mostly from chemo therapy, I guess, but the last visit she had some hair. The hospital staff thought it would be too difficult to keep clean, so it was removed. It seemed like a violation to me. Myrtle's hair meant so much to her.

While Myrtle was in the hospital after surgery , her niece asked permission to clear out the living room area as she was afraid it wasn't safe. Myrtle knew every item that was contained in the room and had a reason for keeping each article. I was used to seeing Myrtle make her way down a well thought out path from her kitchen table through the living room to answer the door. I saw no danger of Myrtle falling and mentioned that to her niece. " I wouldn't worry about Myrtle falling, there's no place to fall." It was like going down a long corridor of a thrift shop. Myrtle laughed about it. She knew she was a little eccentric.
She gave permission to have the living room cleared but had no idea how far her family would go in this endeavor.
They filled a 25 ton garbage container, had it emptied and filled it again. The family worked to create a home that wasn't Myrtle. Her niece was going through Myrtle's cookbooks and asked me if there was anything I wanted. I mentioned I had a cookbook collection so she gave me a box of cookbooks, ( I planned to return the books to Myrtle). At least I saved a few books from the dumpster.
The action her family took was like telling Myrtle that nothing she treasured was of any value.
When Myrtle arrived home she was in shock. I brought her the cookbooks. She appreciated my effort but was more concerned about her missing Bible.
Myrtle put her hand over her heart and said, "It hurts here".

Myrtle gave me a plant for Christmas, bulbs that would bloom in the Spring. The plants were not doing well indoors so I put them outside. The buds are slow to bloom. I think they're waiting for Myrtle to begin her new life.

When I was at the bank earlier this week Cecil Evoy ( Vice President of bank) a good friend of Myrtle's, began a conversation. Cecil was remembering the first time he ever saw Myrtle. She was driving her little bug down the road past his home. She stopped to tell him that he was putting up his screen door upside down. "And you know, Myrtle was right. What a feisty lady."

That's the Myrtle I remember, independent, opinionated, smart as a whip, kind and thoughtful, never one to waste, a God fearing woman.
Now I see tubes up her nose, another tube dumping bile into a container, her body so thin and weak, needles invading her fragile frame. The fact that she is still hanging on is typical of her strong determined nature.

Myrtle gave me sour dough starter that is over 140 years old. The pioneers brought it with them in a covered wagon. I treasure this gift and as I replenish it I'll remember Myrtle.
I'll miss seeing Myrtle drive down the road in her V.W.
Myrtle was the first owner of this car. She had never driven a car or attempted to learn how to drive. So, she purchased the car first and then learned to drive. She figured it would never get done unless she had a car. That's a gutsy move.

We still have a party line. It won't be the same without Myrtle. We managed to share the line without a problem. If Myrtle was on the line and heard us pick up the phone she would be sure to call and let us know when the line was free. We followed her example. We all learned from Myrtle.
Myrtle attended many of our family gatherings. She sat with the family as honorary Grandmother at the wedding of our daughter, Elizabeth.
Myrtle taught me about native plants found in our woods and gave me advice on planting a garden.

Thursday.....Myrtle died last night. I walked outside to see the miniature daffodils she gave us for Christmas. I knew they would be in full bloom.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Teamwork

Never mind an energy drink...just give me cool weather. Enjoyed trying to turn the jungle into a more civilized yard. I did a lot of dig & toss.

It was good to be in the yard (close to the garage) as Joe needed my help with car repair.
Where in the vows did it say "Love, honor and be an apprentice to a car mechanic"?
I think we need a new car but Joe hasn't given up as yet.
Joe is master of all things mechanical but has trouble reading & writing.
He understands intricate diagrams and directions in repair manuals. If he is having trouble he asks me to read. I read, he understands.

Joe noticed me looking at letters that I wrote to a pen-pal before I was married. He asked if I saved the letters he(Joe) had written. Of course I saved them. I wasn't sure where I put them so looked through several drawers and then found them in my cedar chest.

Writing letters is not one of his talents which makes those he sent to me even more of a treasure.
He used to spend three or four hours writing me a letter.

I think he loves me....I know I love him.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Uncle Vittorio Moretto

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Our son James and I are working on a family video with photos and articles up to 1927. It was about done when I found photos to borrow from an aunt. One of the photos was of the salami factory where my Uncle Vic Moretto worked in the 1920's. Maybe you've heard of Oberto products. They were the first in the area to make Torino sausages, salami etc. Later my uncle was a partner in the company.
Gavosto and Moretto.
Annie and Vic were married in 1927.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Life with Elizabeth.......I remember


Dr. Clark squeezing my foot in the hospital bed and assuring me that you would make it.
Bringing you home to your happy family.
Giving you a bath in a mixing bowl.
Watching your father and brothers fuss over you.

Walking around the kitchen with you attached to my leg.
The time you gave our neighbor, Lillian a bouquet of flowers picked from her yard.

Your job as a teen-age advice columnist for the Seattle Times.
You receiving a letter from a man in prison!

Recognizing a letter written by Mike and Mom. Oops!

You auditioning for Little Symphony and making it.

Enjoying many concerts with Little Symphony.

Your kindness in helping me at St. Anthony's (Kent) by playing the flute.(I've learned to count since then)

Your poetry.

Your graduations, awards, and accomplishments.

Your courtship, wedding to John...birth of Zoe.

I'll save the rest for your 50th.

Happy Birthday! We love you.

Mom & Dad

Growing up at the Pike Place Market


Near our storeroom was a Greek Cafe. The owners had a son about my age. My friendliness frightened this fragile fellow. He was apparently avoiding girls and avoided me at all times. He ran to his mother for protection.

One young farmer in the market had very sensuous eye. I was a little afraid of him so much so that I almost ran to the Greek Cafe.

I had a date with a young Italian farmer named Tony. He was nice but there was no chemistry. During our date Tony got a ticket for making an illegal u-turn, so it ended on a sour note. We remained friends.

One of the butchers working at Dan's Market asked me out to dinner. Instead he took me to a ballgame. This would've been fine except I had to climb up to the bleachers in high heels. No chemistry on my part but he had other ideas. By this time I had been dating Joe and had no interest in anyone else.
He began this dramatic attempt to interest me by having a woman come around and pretend that they had eloped. He was totally weird. He followed me to the back room and declared his love. He warned me about dating a serviceman. He then fessed up about his fake wife.
I told him I didn't love him. He wanted me to kiss him so I'd be sure I didn't love him. I told them I was very sure and to please go away.

I was so happy to see Joe. I knew how lucky I was to have met such a good man.

Before I met Joe, Barbara and I went on a friendly date with two army buddies. Gloria suggested we stay at her apartment as it was close to town and would eliminate the long drive home. I was hesitant as he was married. They assured me that it was just a friendly date. He was very nice, extremely good-looking and loved his wife. After dinner we were at Gloria's apartment. He began kissing me and being only human I kissed him. We were on Gloria's chaise lounge, he climbed on top of me. I moved away. He asked why, I told him it was not a nice thing to do. He said, "Good girl". Shortly after that he left. but phoned the next day for a date. Thanks, but no thanks.
As I said before I was lucky to find Joe.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

TWENTY MILES FROM HOME


My husband Joe and I were on our way to Marymere Falls on the Olympic Peninsula when our car quit. After probing under the hood, Joe made an announcement. "We'll have to hitch-hike back to the campground and get the motor-home so we can tow the car back home." What!

We said a prayer, packed everything we could into the trunk(this included several cameras, a spotting scope, shoes,etc) then crossed the busy highway and waited for an angel.

A semi-truck rolled by us and several cars, then a car stopped.
Joe walked to the drivers window and explained the situation. The man agreed to drive us back to our campsite at Mora campground. We couldn't believe our luck.

We asked him where he lived. He lived in Forks. He asked us how long we'd been married. I said forever...Joe gave the exact years. He had been married for over forty years. We all agreed we had been blessed.
He used to own a lumber mill but during the controversy about saving the spotted owl had to close the mill and let all his workers go.
I was always for the spotted owl but hearing his story showed me how difficult a decision this would be for the opposing side.
You learn a lot about a person in 20 miles.
He mentioned his religion several times and how happy he was that his four daughters were religious.
He refused to take any payment for his help and drove us right to the door of our motor-home.
We were very fortunate to meet such a good man, generous of heart and spirit.
As he was leaving I asked his name and gave him ours. I told him if he was ever at St. James Cathedral in Seattle to stop by, and after the 10:00 service , we would take him out to lunch. He smiled and drove away.
I wrote his name down in hopes of finding his address on-line.
I found the address of the City of Forks and his name listed as a member of the Civil Service Commission. I sent a thankyou note.
Dave Robinson is a very kind man.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

COLORS OF THE MARKET



Heads wrapped in colorful scarves, Italian women worked the market stalls speaking their native language with words and gestures.

Angelina always kept her hand behind her back. One day I noticed it was a hook. I wondered how she lost her hand but never asked. In spite of her stern manner, I found her to be kind.

Inter-racial marriage was not common in Renton, where I lived, but several farmers in the market were Filipino/Caucasian. It was a learning experience.

Spanish sailors came to our stall to buy eggs for the ship. I said a few words in Spanish and they assumed I spoke their language. They brought out family photos and began to tell me their family history. It was interesting. It would've been really interesting if I actually understood.

Our customers included bank presidents, ladies of the evening, female impersonators, ordinary and extraordinary persons.

A man without legs wheeled himself through the market using his arms. He was on a board with skating wheels.

We had a very pretty customer who had a long hair on her chest. I wonder if she was a he.

One of our customers had been in a concentration camp. She was very quiet and ill at ease.

I realize some of this information is being repeated. Worth it!

Bye Bye Market

Each night when we closed the stall we had trouble getting the gate  down. We had to use our weight and ride the gate.
The first time Joe (my future husband) saw this production, he oiled the gate. Voila!
Dad was totally amazed. This was one of the many reasons Dad respected Joe. I'm sure he was sorry for his first comment to me about him being "all nose".

While dating Joe I decided to try to get a job away from the market. I went for an interview at Sears and Roebuck. When they phoned to ask if I wanted a job, I hesitated, Barbara was next to me saying, " Take it , take it". Soon after that I said goodbye to the Pike Place Market.

Education of a different sort

Alice and Diana ran a restaurant in the market. They claimed to be aunt and neice but it was apparent they were a couple.

A sweet red-headed young man made a play for Corky.
Corky was angry that anyone would think "macho man" was gay.

I used to wait on this lovely women and each time wonder why she didn't remove several long hairs from her upper chest. She may have been a he.

Interesting Customers

One of our customers bought all our cheese scraps to melt and create his own cheese.

Another customer was a very sad woman, who was the sister of one of our most colorful regulars. He told us that she had spent several years in a concentration camp. She was difficult to wait on as she didn't trust anyone. Understandable.

Pansy and her son were well known in the market. Pansy always wore a hat. Her son wore white shoes, a seafair hat and a suit coat. His skin was always extremely red. They spent a lot of time at St. James Cathedral, always sat in the front row with an empty camera.
When Pansy died her son was unable to keep the apartment clean . He was about to be evicted when a group from St. James including Raymond Hunthausen cleaned up the mess. Hunthausen scraped layers of crud out of the toilet bowl.
This act of humility and kindness was certainly a step towards sainthood.
The Archbishop was at St. Stephen's later that year and I mentioned to him that my bathroom needed cleaning.(Thinking back ,I can't believe I said that.) He was a good sport about it and said, " I was afraid that would get out."

FRENCH TWIST

One of the pleasant experiences in the market was rummaging through clothes at the Good Will store in the lower market. We found all kinds of beautiful clothes for practically nothing. For some reason, the girls at S. U. thought we had money. When they asked us where we purchased certain outfits we told them it was a French shop called Goh wee. Silly teenagers!

NOT SO HAPPY NEW YEAR

New Year's Eve Day we were exceptionally busy. Dad had extra orders and each customer was so grateful that they insisted on giving him a sip of this or that, plus he hadn't stopped to eat. Since it was New Year's Eve everyone offered him a drink.
Dad was arrested as he backed out of the Pike Place Market loading zone.

Barbara & I had to go to the jail and pick him up. It was humiliating for all concerned. The staff at the station treated us as if we had done something wrong.

The man who shared a cell with Dad was an African American named Mitchell Raspberry. Of course Dad had funny stories to tell about his experience.
Apparently he & Mitchell became tank buddies in spite of Dad's politically incorrect way of speaking. I don't remember the story but I remember he told it with a southern drawl.
Dad did that a lot and seemed to get away with it. His black customers got a kick out of his comedic ability and knew that he meant no disrespect.

When he appeared in court his drivers license was suspended for a year. This was a hardship for the family. Our older brother Corky was in the Coast Guard at the time, so Barbara and I had to make the deliveries to the taverns on Pike Street (skid row). The owners were very nice and kept an eye out for undesirables.

We had no incidents during that year, but were happy when it was over.

A Costly Error...saved by the bag.

Barbara and I worked at the market during the day and attended music classes at Seattle University in the evening. Dad would leave to make deliveries and trusted us to count the days receipts. The money was kept in a bank bag and placed in a paper sack to disguise the contents. Somehow the bag got thrown away with the garbage. We realized our mistake on the way home and frantically headed back to the market.
We headed to the dumpster and found the bag sitting on top, waiting for us.
The dumpsters were always full of garbage pickers. We were very lucky and so thankful that the disguise worked.