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The first Caucasians to appear on the Plateau were a handful of homesteaders sometime in the mid- to late-1880s. (Of course, the Indians had been blazing trails through the region at least 30,000 years before the whites arrived.) Many of the first homesteaders were Danish, who built a tiny hamlet in the Flensted District about three miles northwest of what would become Enumclaw.
Even back in my dawn-world days, it was still called the old Neuwaukum Grange, as though it had never been “new.” I guess at one time it was a school house, before it became a social center and dance hall for farmers in the district.
You may know Ryan Lundeen. If you don’t, he’s the president and director of that striping company on Third Street across from The Kettle. His company stripes everything from parking lots to tennis courts all over the state.
Let’s get one thing straight at the outset: I’m not a golfer. Never have been and never will be. The sport just doesn’t work with me.
Steve Jobs, the recently deceased cofounder and chief executive officer of Apple Inc. – a visionary and creative genius who also cofounded the Pixar Animation Studio – was a child of the Sixties. In other words, he was a hippie.
Like many of you, I enjoy coffee in the morning to help me wake up. Sometimes in the early afternoon I’ll have a second cup to perk up my fading energy. And, finally, again like many of you, another swallow or two to ward off the lethargic feeling after a heavy evening meal.
Well, the latest calculation by astrophysicists indicates that the distance across the observable universe is approximately 100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 (100 septillion) miles, give or take a few blocks because the figure has been rounded off. And that’s only what we see.
It’s no secret that this country’s anti-terrorist technology and spy networks have expanded by leaps and bounds during the past several years (since 9/11).
If you’ve lived here most of your life and you’re older than 40, you probably remember Sonny Bellack’s auto repair shop. Back in the day, Sonny was an excellent mechanic who worked in a dilapidated lean-to garage that, 30 years after his death, remained a rather picturesque, photographic junk pile until architect and engineer Carl Sanders came along, cleared the site, and erect an attractive brick building where the “Suburban Soul” used to be located.
You may have noticed that little store called Top Smoke across Stevenson Avenue from Starbucks but, if you were like me, you never went inside to see what it’s all about. Well, the other day I walked in the place and, believe me, owner Paul Kim operates an interesting shop.
As many of you know, The Boeing Company was founded shortly after the turn of the 20th century by William Boeing in a single, wood-framed building, which is preserved today as part of the Museum of Flight.
I suspect they’ve visited nearly all of you at one time or another, usually late on a Saturday morning. They knock on your door, wearing semi-formal attire, looking quite respectable and happy, and confidently carrying their Bibles.
My friends, we face a host of problems, any one of which could be absolutely catastrophic and a threat to our very existence.
Well, our Congress has finally decided to tackle the issue of immigration. It’s about time because the current system is broken.
World War II was probably the most catastrophic and heinous war in the entire history of man. Though lasted just five years, the carnage slaughtered 60 million to 70 million people and God only knows how many more were physically and mentally scarred for life.
There was a time in the not too distant past – say, the 1930s, ‘40s and ‘50s – when our Southern states possessed a distinct, separate culture, setting them apart from the rest of the United States.
Well, the other day I went into the clinic for my annual physical exam. Unfortunately, on that particular afternoon my lower back was acting up. It’s been doing this every once in a while for the last 40 years, ever since I permanently damaged this or that while roofing.
Well, there goes Harry Shephard, out for his stroll around the downtown streets. Though you may not know his name, you’ve probably seen him because he’s out and about nearly every day. He sets a pretty rapid pace, just a couple of ticks below a jog.
If you’ve read these columns for any length of time, you may be surprised to learn I don’t care for the vast majority of U.S. cities, including celebrated centers like Baltimore, Houston, Minneapolis and Miami. I absolutely detest Los Angeles and Phoenix.
The other day a lady stopped me in Safeway and said her 17-year-old son had started fooling around with booze, as kids are prone to do.
Well, with interest rates at an all-time low, a few Christmas expenses still coming due and an unexpected $1000 fee for a tooth crown, last week my finances had become so strained they were about to interfere with my social life, which can’t, under any circumstances, be tolerated. The last thing I needed was another bill. Nevertheless, I got one anyway: my pickup needed four new tires.
Hollywood rolled out the red carpet for the annual Academy Awards Sunday night. So, with the winners fresh in our minds – if you give a damn about such fanfare – this is as good a time as any to make a few personal observations about the current state of motion pictures.
Well, this Thursday it’s time again for hearts and flowers and a glass of red wine. Time to gaze into each other’s eyes across a tiny table in a secluded little lounge, perhaps floating above the Seattle skyline.
Make no mistake, in America you can do anything and become anything you want, even it it's illegal. All you have to do is work at it.
If you’ve been around Enumclaw more than eight or 10 years and if, in your time, you have haunted any of the local bars, you’ll surely recall the old Rainier Tavern.
When I was a little kid, Enumclaw had two motion picture theaters: The Liberty was located where the police station is today and the Avalon was sandwiched in a space that’s currently empty between Harding Dentistry and Allen’s Furniture.
Back in the day — way back before the turn of the 20th century — frontiersmen in the Enumclaw area were digging outhouses and falling trees on their land-grant property. They were affectionately known as “stump farmers.” The timber was of some value and they used the profits to purchase cows, hoping to develop dairy farms.
T’was the day before Christmas and o’re the Plateau, From Diamond to Buckley we’re all on the go;
Looking back upon the Christmases I’ve known, a few stand out prominently from all the rest. This doesn’t mean those Christmases were necessarily the most enjoyable, only that they were more memorable.
My favorite blended alcoholic drink is the Manhattan. Unfortunately, it’s very difficult to find a really fine Manhattan anywhere outside Manhattan, but I’ve enjoyed a few in some of Seattle’s more exclusive restaurants; for example, the Hunt Club in the Sorrento Hotel.
Tina Cullison graduated from Auburn High School, married Justin Solmonsen 20 years ago, and has been living in Graham ever since. A few weeks ago, she took over the site and much of the inventory that was formerly City Perk and, in its place, opened The Parlor Room.
People occasionally ask what political party I’m affiliated with. More recently, they ask if I’m leaning toward Obama or Romney. If you’ve read these columns with any regularity for any length of time, the answer is probably clear.
I can’t remember exactly when I first smoked pot. Perhaps that’s understandable because it was sometime during the Sixties – and you know what they say about remembering the Sixties.
Some people call me a writer. Others feel it’s a bit more accurate to label me a columnist. When I tell them I’m also playing around with a few novels, they’re usually more impressed. “Oh!” one lady exclaimed and arched her eyebrow. “So you’re an author!” Others call me things that aren’t fit for a family newspaper.
Well, you know how it goes in the world of fashion: here today and gone tomorrow. At the moment, colored jeans are hot, but you wouldn’t be caught dead in pink jeans by next summer. (Of course. if you start wearing them 10 years from now, you’ll probably be rather cool again.)
Well, I was gonna check my email the other night, which I’m sure is also a daily ritual for many of you. I clicked on the Internet but received, instead, a rather startling and unsettling result.
The other day I heard about a Black Diamond memorial to Washington state’s coal mining past, so I drove across the river to check things out. I suspect this project has been in various stages of development for a number of years, but this whimsical storyteller just learned about it.
This column has frequently showered considerable praise on Pike Place Market in downtown Seattle.
This column has frequently showered considerable praise on Pike Place Market in downtown Seattle.
People sometimes ask what I think of modern rock, rap and the pop scene in general. I usually say I don’t think much about it; that is, I rarely pay any attention to it.
Many know Bridget Peterson as a former employee in Suburban Soul." When that business closed its doors – yet another victim of our screwed up economy – she decided to open a store of her own, which was something she had wanted to do for many years. So, a couple months ago, she finally did. She was eminently qualified, having spent more than 15 years in the retail clothing business, including nine years with Nordstrom and four years with The Gap.
Like most of you, I do nearly all my grocery shopping in the local grocery stores. I’ll continue to do this even though – given the pesticides, preservatives, genetic engineering, color additives, growth hormones and a host of other chemicals – no one is sure what we’re actually eating or what the long-term consequences might be.
So now, if you please, a little local Banking History 101.
Like the antique store, the restaurant in Collectibles On Cole has been open for more than a year. Marilyn Nelson, owner of the whole operation – that is, both the antique side and the cafe – ran the restaurant, with various cooks and servers, during the first few months.
Across the Auburn Highway from the Enumclaw Sales barn, on the southwest corner of the intersection of state Route 164 and 228th Avenue Southeast, there’s a stand of fir trees that’s known as the Farmers’ Picnic Grounds. At least that’s what old-timers call it.
Bonna Hanna and I have known one another for at least 35 years and yet, for whatever reason, we’ve never been especially close. One could say we’re casual acquaintances; that is, we always greet one another with a smile while passing through the colorful neon and multi-hued mirrors of one bar or another.
When I was in grad school (say around 1970), the Earth’s population stood at 3.5 billion. Today, it’s more than 7 billion. That would seem to be enough people.
In my younger days, I used to enjoy playing tennis and basketball. I suppose I still would, but haven’t played either for several years. Last time I shot a few hoops in Garrett Park, some young fellas – at least they were younger than 40 – walked on the court, so I had to leave. Either that, or make a fool of myself.
Hey, all you paranoid people out there, no need to be lonesome. Sometimes I also feel like I’m being watched.
As the man once said more than 40 years ago, "The Times They Are A-changin'."