tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32775525595649516572024-03-05T03:24:13.233-08:00The Blackberry Chronicles<p>Born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, I grew up in Renton, WA in the 1950s & 60s. I’m a practicing philosophical eclectic of the arts, education and technology. This is a personal journal about life, family, friends, and places then and now.</p>
René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.comBlogger190125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-14840257877039422262024-02-09T17:17:00.000-08:002024-02-09T17:17:07.928-08:00René Fabre: Washington State Real Estate History, Story of Renton, Music. A Far Flung Conversation.<a href="https://www.exploringwashingtonstate.com/rene-fabre-washington-state-real-estate-history-story-of-renton-music-a-far-flung-conversation/">René Fabre: Washington State Real Estate History, Story of Renton, Music. A Far Flung Conversation.</a>: René Fabre is my guest for this episode. René and I have known each other for over a decade During our conversation we cover a wide range of topics from …<div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-32148357630691421292023-11-20T14:17:00.000-08:002023-11-20T14:17:39.294-08:00The Tulip Tree at Tonkin Park<p></p>
<p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-d3e81ef1-7fff-1405-d0af-cfb2a014e0ee"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The autumn colors are here and the weather has been mild so the trees are not bare yet. It’s mid November and as I make a trek across town today I pass one of my favorite old trees in downtown Renton, Washington. I’ve known her most of my life. I affectionately refer to this grand old tulip poplar (</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Liriodendron tulipifera</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">) as her, but tulip trees technically are both male and female. They have male pollen producing stamens and female pollen receiving pistils. I’m by no means a plant biology specialist, but we do have one in the family. My youngest daughter Paige is a plant biologist and currently working on her Doctorate back in Ohio.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJMN5XhTu6bOW_v-MPY0RDxXll4EQpGEa2sxr1yzwdEAVupBCTS2u6q4GHi6B8P5XoOOIcsGciRQPWOWuoA2SP7cSFurxh1psK1buFrRCWCcJUbMEFyRRGbi2OCJTmJIJPK7V0X-_u9-AnY_lH0Fd0Nbez-N24RR18dMnHucidA5PhyphenhyphenpF7GswU8icdaY/s2820/RNGH7025.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2820" data-original-width="2820" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJMN5XhTu6bOW_v-MPY0RDxXll4EQpGEa2sxr1yzwdEAVupBCTS2u6q4GHi6B8P5XoOOIcsGciRQPWOWuoA2SP7cSFurxh1psK1buFrRCWCcJUbMEFyRRGbi2OCJTmJIJPK7V0X-_u9-AnY_lH0Fd0Nbez-N24RR18dMnHucidA5PhyphenhyphenpF7GswU8icdaY/w640-h640/RNGH7025.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div><span style="font-family: arial;">The Tulip Tree at Tonkin Park, Renton, Washington.</span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-599b5eaa-7fff-b434-6f07-6a6f677bf7c9"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Though I can’t find any definitive answers as to how old she is, this is the former site of the original Tonkin General Store. James Tonkin, as best as I can assemble the facts, immigrated from England and settled here in Renton in 1882. He opened the first store at this location in 1885. When James Tonkin died his son Josiah “Si” Tonkin took over the store in 1902 and it was later vacated in 1915 when they moved to another location. The original building was torn down and the property was donated to the city. It became Tonkin Park in 1948.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I think this beauty is about (or maybe a little over) 100 years old. I could be wrong, but she’s huge and I remember her being so since I was 7 or 8 years old. Poking around on the internet I found that tulip trees can live to be 300 years, so she’s actually a rather sprite young thing. As you can see off to the right there’s another tulip tree. I think of her as the little sister. She’s almost as tall, but not quite as large. I grew up in Renton and have walked or driven by Tonkin Park since the 1950s and 60s. </span></p><div> </div></span><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIksJrou1Y5_SmMls92r-P7CBbc9QTWCmzdHvg14pDj87uc7BZ81wCqjI2fizEg7TFnSeCm2C6-QOO37n1g5uK18RPwI-MqX1YD_15qS2hMTLT8MjTLmnM9vbJ9Gj1ksGOVVkAut3-sVTCghA9doVFCXyGXLv58xuSDpZbcOuIhA4NRcPG_OdrWNnGCjA/s1284/Tonkin-Park-Donkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="963" data-original-width="1284" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIksJrou1Y5_SmMls92r-P7CBbc9QTWCmzdHvg14pDj87uc7BZ81wCqjI2fizEg7TFnSeCm2C6-QOO37n1g5uK18RPwI-MqX1YD_15qS2hMTLT8MjTLmnM9vbJ9Gj1ksGOVVkAut3-sVTCghA9doVFCXyGXLv58xuSDpZbcOuIhA4NRcPG_OdrWNnGCjA/w200-h150/Tonkin-Park-Donkey.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Donkey Run Away from the Mines</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span id="docs-internal-guid-72b03ebb-7fff-55ad-1622-f94353d95e22"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Tonkin Park is a small triangle plot of land located at 399 Williams Ave S in downtown Renton. Another wonderful landmark here is the cast aluminum sculpture, Donkey Run Away from the Mines, by Richard Beyer (1925 -2012). He created several public artworks in the area including, Waiting for The Interurban, Fremont, Seattle, The Traveler, in Bend Oregon, and the Sasquatch Pushing Over a House at Seattle’s University Playground.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Tulip trees are native to the Eastern United States, but these two have done quite well here in the Pacific Northwest. I love autumn, but regardless of the season, they bring me joy and connection. </span></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Tonkin Park, 399 Williams Ave S, Renton, WA 98057, USA47.4782979 -122.206933547.475397403045022 -122.21122503442383 47.48119839695498 -122.20264196557618tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-20226453217632115292022-09-18T13:42:00.003-07:002022-09-19T11:26:37.181-07:00Now is now, at least until Yesterday<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Reflections: September 18, 2022</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-42afd47b-7fff-c71a-e1b9-cdd92fa935e8"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cool this morning and I feel autumn in the air. The sun is shining brightly through my bedroom window. It’s about 9:30 am and I hear several neighbors heading out for the day.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm thinking about one of my fears while making coffee. How will time fill itself. Now that I’m no longer on the corporate clock there’s a void. Voids fill themselves. I catch myself worrying about it. I still have so much I want to do and I react to friends who call and say, “Now that you’re retired, are you thinking about travel?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No, not really. I want to get my life in order so I can devote my time to music and writing. It’s a full time gig even though I’m not making much if any progress at the moment.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Henry Miller...</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> One can fight evil but against stupidity one is helpless… I have accepted the fact, hard as it may be, that human beings are inclined to behave in ways that would make animals blush. The ironic, the tragic thing is that we often behave in ignoble fashion from what we consider the highest motives. The animal makes no excuse for killing his prey; the human animal, on the other hand, can invoke God’s blessing when massacring his fellow men. He forgets that God is not on his side but at his side. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm watching too many political videos lately on YouTube and making comments. My only revelation is the that I get all fired up, raise my blood pressure, and for what? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is not the way I want that void to fill itself. Idiots are idiots and I remind myself it doesn’t really matter and I don't need to participate in the mud slinging. I vent, and nothing will change. I get that. The only thing likely to happen is someone will rudely insult me and remind me of just how stupid I am.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Miller continued... There is nothing wrong with life itself. It is the ocean in which we swim and we either adapt to it or sink to the bottom. But it is in our power as human beings not to pollute the waters of life, not to destroy the spirit which animates us.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the late 1990s I viewed the emerging social media scene as a new frontier with almost utopian energy. It became my career of sorts and I preached the new age gospel of its benefits to mankind. Today, I'm mostly retracting that view. The platforms, the corporations that are home to them, have broken the promise and the plumbing. In many ways, and I get it not in all ways, they are drowning us in a sewer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The world seems split down the middle, each side adamant that the other side is horribly wrong and mistaken. No points are ever argued, just simply destroy the person who shared one. "You don't agree with our side, we hate you!" </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On my way to the grocery store the other day I was driving up Shattuck Street and about to cross South 3rd as two young probably teen guys were walking against the green light. I brake to slow down and wait for them to pass. They see me and slow down their walk so it takes longer to cross when one of them laughs to the other loud enough for me to hear, “Watch out for grandpa!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is but a mild distraction because I'm in a totally different head space. I'm deep in thought wondering, "Does my old neighborhood Earlington remember me or any of those days long ago?" Are old neighborhoods like old people? Do they have consciousness like they seemed to have when you were a kid? They have a name for a reason. They have boundaries like all beings alive. They were once a unique identity that set them apart from anywhere else. They had personality, a one of a kindness. <i>(pun intended)</i></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Each home was built by, or for, a family one at a time, large or small, with a unique style extravagant or modest all their own. None had fences, window drapes were mostly always open during the day, and all yards had at least a few fruit trees. Garages were unattached with workbenches where projects were always present and revealed some stage of creation or repairs. Around and on each bench were parts and pieces of old things that would certainly be useful someday. Nuts and bolts, washers and screws, nails of all sizes and old hinges too, all organized in jars and old coffee cans. Light switches, wire, and electrical cord, boxes and bins of wood and metal pieces of all sizes and shapes. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the walls hung handsaws, rip, crosscut, and fine. Toolboxes were nearby with several hammers. A collection of machine and motor oils were present for lubrication and gasoline for cleaning various greasy engine parts. And numerous small paint cans to refurbish any interior or exterior that needed fixing, patching or trim. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Though now the old neighborhood is mostly apartments and condos, dear Earlington, do you remember the woods and pastures? Do any of the old homes recall our childhood days of long ago as fondly as I do. Do you remember the birds and wild flowers of spring and summer? The foggy autumn mornings that lifted to sunny warm afternoons. The cold damp gray rainy cold Novembers evenings with a heart warming blaze in the fireplace.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Remember when we woke to rooster crows, and the neighbor's dog barked to alert us that someone (not from our neighborhood) was walking down our street. Robins chirped to raise the sun, then again at sunset as the day drew to a close to say goodnight. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember walking home in autumn and winter at dinner time. You’d inhale the wonderful smell of ethnicity from the street as you passed each home. On Saturday mornings in spring, summer, and early fall the lawn mowers would start up and soon the smell of freshly cut grass would fill the air. When flowers were blooming a divine sweetness was added to the mix. It filled our senses, it was intoxicating.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I reflect, I’d like to go back and I know I can’t. I don’t want to say life was better then than now. But now lends the opportunity to remember then and I cherish that. I don’t dwell there, I honor it. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The other day I was thinking about places. They have a life cycle as we humans do. They were one thing and over time as all of us do became another as changes made us what we turned out to be today. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was struck with these thoughts. Do they also have memory? I think they must because we’re so alike, in that we came from a place, we lived, we grew, and life and change happened. We’ve all experienced the good, the not so good, and the bad that leaves us with at least a few regrets. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We all evolved, like it or not, and now... now is now. At least until it's yesterday.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Earlington Ave SW, Renton, WA 98057, USA47.4793378 -122.226086-32.555386121509876 97.148913999999991 90 18.398914000000005tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-11906501646508969922022-08-20T21:33:00.005-07:002022-08-24T13:57:56.251-07:00Dadisms and a few thoughts<p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I owe a debt of gratitude to my Dad. No one worked harder, yet he always made time for us boys. I just want to share a few of those ‘Dadisms’ to celebrate. His birthday was August 18, 1921 and he passed back in November of 1998.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-02ead069-7fff-aa34-076b-b26d3be42595"><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was no such thing as a free lunch and you will earn your keep. My brothers and I all had jobs as kids. Dad wasn't mean. He thought there just wasn't a better time to get ready for life than when you were old enough to get started.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After I totally failed as a paperboy Dad decided on a different job for me at the local music store as a guitar teacher. I had about 2 years of playing under my belt. I was obsessed and practiced for hours every day. That was all well and fine with him, but you need to make a living at it. It wasn’t like I or the owner had a choice when we walked in that day together, "Put him to work", say's Dad. It took me a couple of months but I soon had between 30 to 40 students.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was 15 1/2 then and Dad’s encouraging advice, “Don't worry about it. You don’t need to know everything there is to know about the guitar. You don’t even need to be the best guitar player there ever was. You just need to stay 2 lessons ahead of your students.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDJUCrpsxGFL2Sb70gmowUVYsgAH4T_gAcFdH4HVfosHQBJuwgFS4Y5uttQ-HkjT9VuDR0CIXwSd8kGX61xOqh-P_Y4suxX14lyQNRB6Vjyw1BJiXSl4PYi7Vndbcp2A3dRNpebwDMZdaORrSc0l0JzGB2RDMGYivvgZSJzYBdqBDj5QuxbtC8mnq/s2898/Al-Fabre-&-Frank-Bufarro-1960s.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2898" data-original-width="2232" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDJUCrpsxGFL2Sb70gmowUVYsgAH4T_gAcFdH4HVfosHQBJuwgFS4Y5uttQ-HkjT9VuDR0CIXwSd8kGX61xOqh-P_Y4suxX14lyQNRB6Vjyw1BJiXSl4PYi7Vndbcp2A3dRNpebwDMZdaORrSc0l0JzGB2RDMGYivvgZSJzYBdqBDj5QuxbtC8mnq/s320/Al-Fabre-&-Frank-Bufarro-1960s.jpeg" width="246" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Al Fabre & Frank Baffaro</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p>I was a little over 16 years old when Dad and I had that ‘father and son’ heart to heart talk. You guys know what I’m talking about. That awkward one that started with a random topic and went on and on and on before it finally got around to</span><b style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> <i>‘the’</i></b><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> conversation. The one about sex. I’m thinking he was really hoping never to have this one, but knowing Mom, insisted, </span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Al, you need to have this conversation with your son!” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dad’s advice, after a lot of awkward small talk, “Son... you got shit to do. You've got ambition, you got talent. </span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15.3333px; white-space: pre-wrap;">You got dreams. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">You're gonna have to work long and hard to make it all happen." </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Keep your Peter in your pocket and you’ll be fine.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was in my early 20s and Dad was helping me out with some music arrangements for the Pep Band at GRCC. These were early efforts for me at scoring for jazz ensembles with woodwinds and brass. It was a special time because our passions again overlapped and we rediscovered some common ground.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dad’s advice, “It’s never going to be about the money you make at it. It’ll be about the discovery and the joy it brings you. Just give it your best.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>A random Dad quote</b> I heard many times over the years... </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Why can’t people just get along?” <b>OMG!</b> Dad. We could use this wisdom today! </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was at Dimmitt Jr High School in the early 60s. I loved band (a French Horn player) and sports, track and wrestling. I had a relentless petty tyrant, Tom. He made my life hell. Dad said, sorry son, but you're gonna have to confront this one. Take him down even though he's bigger than you, so don't worry about fighting fair. He started it. My coaches and my math teacher at the time agreed and I did just that in the gym one day, I'd had enough.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was headed out on a tour in the mid 70s. Believe it or not, there’s a lot of politics in music. I was having some extreme business challenges dealing with a few unscrupulous types. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dad’s advice, “F**k em!” You’re not anything like them. Just keep doing the right thing son, even if you lose money at it. You’ll keep your self respect, the respect of those who really matter, and you’ll be able to hold your head high. It’s not the end of the world.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was kind of frustrated one day in my 30s and had several performances coming up and feeling totally overwhelmed. Dad’s advice, “If you love what you’re doing and it matters, slow down and enjoy it. It’s not a race. It’s about your life and loving what you do.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-EXYmlWhXAVGJtiL45TySpOKdrTXgrw5IV-3cQxXFpqB7sjU_K_hyjvdA-0CjQy0WvSO7sKeZwU2zSfhbAiUapj_bqKfI_SWIlHv1y1tvqoZkweEnfYoJiTwg4ylBsKTTELToOYjjdrU_rOPRDSaUXrJoW8iR0DelFf1nFwM8fBhSFJDhi2SSCnJ/s248/Mom&Dad-b4job.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="248" data-original-width="245" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9-EXYmlWhXAVGJtiL45TySpOKdrTXgrw5IV-3cQxXFpqB7sjU_K_hyjvdA-0CjQy0WvSO7sKeZwU2zSfhbAiUapj_bqKfI_SWIlHv1y1tvqoZkweEnfYoJiTwg4ylBsKTTELToOYjjdrU_rOPRDSaUXrJoW8iR0DelFf1nFwM8fBhSFJDhi2SSCnJ/w316-h320/Mom&Dad-b4job.jpg" width="316" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Dad & Mom, 1956<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was about 11 and did one of those random kid goofy things that boys do. I don’t remember the occasion but I will never forget what he said.</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’re one of the only kids I have ever known that can fall into a bucket of shit and come out smelling like rose!” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">At about 15 and a half I snuck the car out to do my Sunday morning paper route. I got it stuck in a ditch. I had to walk home and wake the old man up and he say’s,</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Jesus, you really do some stupid stuff sometimes.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s all I ever heard about it... When we got the car out of the ditch, he made me drive it home. I never snuck the car out again.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">During one of the darkest chapters of my life I had to make a decision. I was in my late 40s. I moved in with Dad because his end was near, and I too was in need. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">(Who was helping whom?, I'll never know.) </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One day, we were talking and I went off on his doctors who I thought were full of shit. I mean like really, he’s near the end, he’s dying, and you’re lecturing me about his diet? </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Renegade that I am, that Saturday I made him one of his favorite dinners, a broiled sirloin steak with sautéed mushrooms and garlic, green beans, mashed potatoes, a fresh tossed salad with homemade Italian dressing, and a big helping of Neapolitan ice cream for dessert. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Afterwards we enjoyed a couple of old classic movies. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dad asks, “How’d you get to be such a good cook?” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I paid attention growing up. We were fortunate and had several in our family.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bless you Dad. I really enjoyed our memories this week. I’m thankful for the time we had together. There’s more, but today I'm enjoying that they’re just between you and me. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 6pt 0pt 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Happy Birthday!</span></p></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Renton, WA 98057, USA47.4773354 -122.223702547.476972828423087 -122.22423894180298 47.477697971576916 -122.22316605819702tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-40289542495900315522022-06-20T15:55:00.075-07:002022-07-17T14:56:44.042-07:00Leavenworth, International Accordion Celebration 2022<p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Reflections: June 19, 2022</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-71207a1f-7fff-1298-0fac-fe54cf9df811" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Saturday morning I headed down to Auburn to pick up my long time friend, Dave Hoskin. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">We’re driving to Leavenworth for the International Accordion Celebration. We left his place about </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">9:30 AM and then up Highway 18 for Interstate 90 just outside North Bend. It was a typical cool </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">gray cloudy Spring morning this year with a light sprinkle of rain.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">As soon as we were over Snoqualmie Pass to the east side of the Cascades the sun came out. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">We arrived in Cle Elum at 11:00 AM and stopped at the Sunset Café for a nice breakfast. Then up </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Highway 97 past Liberty, Swauk Prairie and Blewett Pass. It's been a favorite stretch of road and drive </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">since I started coming over to Wenatchee to teach classes 10 years ago for First American Title. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Today, the greens were two-tone and lush. The new growth formed bright stripes against the seasoned </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">dark green on every tree. You just know they’re loving the warmer weather and the seasonal daily </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">oscillation of rain and sun.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">We pulled into Leavenworth a few minutes after 1:00 PM. It’s gorgeous, sunny, and the town is full of </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">people enjoying a Saturday. It took us quite a while to find a parking place. We just kept driving around </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">and a good one showed up for us off 12th on Commercial Street.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Our first stop was the Civic Center. There was a wonderful collection of antique accordions to view and </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I had a fun chat with Bruce Triggs, author of the Accordion Revolution. My favorites were a couple of </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">small button accordions, especially the Dino Baffetti models. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-2jRxO7aqugu9WtPdikZgoDrIqQVCtXvx5lkQyKDBooQK_vt23IjGJ5dgThmPQRNjXnPQsADfz2O-NrEgLGmp36iyK3WbEuZ6CFLJXmJNM3C_SwhCa7AVtAXt4zmZTCCwMY6PSpEkNSH8Ti3dzcSuxANseIIrRHLfZ0DP5WCvOwc2ydMqZs_v3ux/s4032/IMG_7777.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-2jRxO7aqugu9WtPdikZgoDrIqQVCtXvx5lkQyKDBooQK_vt23IjGJ5dgThmPQRNjXnPQsADfz2O-NrEgLGmp36iyK3WbEuZ6CFLJXmJNM3C_SwhCa7AVtAXt4zmZTCCwMY6PSpEkNSH8Ti3dzcSuxANseIIrRHLfZ0DP5WCvOwc2ydMqZs_v3ux/w400-h300/IMG_7777.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dino Baffetti, A. 20 - 2 basses</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Back by the concert hall I ran into Joe Petosa Jr. I haven’t seen Joe for about 10 years or so. One day </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">after Barbie Van Horn and I had finished a social media class in Wallingford I stopped by the old store </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">on North 45th on a whim for a visit. They relocated a couple of years ago to Lynnwood. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7i3HrZnfrI_nBoeHgWd5Ge7P488M3kMrxpM03GIDqc0i0mxDE5mTpVBh8Shx_5ROGb1Ow-942LDCUyd5QqII3N-SBGaW-OXs_8bqNc7fuq0dZKf1YEXg3KcXRc1K-dpDpZAIupz653juXZyg1-v6ycCq_H7DW2Aji7li9_PBPPLNSa3mIp610Dsu/s3024/IMG_7817.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV7i3HrZnfrI_nBoeHgWd5Ge7P488M3kMrxpM03GIDqc0i0mxDE5mTpVBh8Shx_5ROGb1Ow-942LDCUyd5QqII3N-SBGaW-OXs_8bqNc7fuq0dZKf1YEXg3KcXRc1K-dpDpZAIupz653juXZyg1-v6ycCq_H7DW2Aji7li9_PBPPLNSa3mIp610Dsu/w400-h400/IMG_7817.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dino Baffetti, 8 basses</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I was moved by the fact he looks so much like his Dad as I remember. It was great to see him and he </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">gave me a big ol’ bear hug, twice. Joe Sr. was a dear friend of my Dad’s. They met back in the late </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">1940</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">s and ever since then Dad played Petosa Accordions exclusively.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I listened to a few players in the hall, then Dave and I headed for Front Street Park to catch a </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">performance. We stopped at Patterson Cellars along the way and I enjoyed one of their red blend </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">wines. Funny, I just recently listened to a podcast about them moving their HQ from Woodinville to </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Walla Walla. The bartender was a really nice talkative guy. We went out front of the shop to the tables </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">along the walkway.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">When we arrived at the Gazebo on Leavenworth Square the music was just about to begin. Our dear </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">old friend John Giuliani was playing bass in the accordion ensemble and we heard all the old songs I </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">remember from childhood. John’s Dad was also a close friend of my Dad’s and both John Sr. and Jr. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">took lessons from him. I loved the fact that there were a lot of people of all ages and a wide variety of </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">ethnic backgrounds enjoying the performance and dancing.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Thanks to John I met a 92 year old guy who played accordion and played a few times on the </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Horace Heidt show in Los Angeles back in the early 1950s. Dad also performed on that show a few </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">times back in those days, so that was our connection. We had a wonderful conversation and I came </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">away thinking I hope I’m as spry, alert and energetic as he is when I’m 92! I also really enjoyed a couple</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">of kids who were both just teenagers and very good players. So happy to see that accordions are being </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">rediscovered and having a comeback!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1j_pl6mLbxc1tBySlePd2-oceCpr4xeKwIg_xdhXPNDgWRMzI2P8kKajtv71ZfWfv7MEdWx-CrUAITALgTcmgmIBI2NjOt-6mv1Dw-gYY5EWVvibMpGMZg8IdU01-o2D5jdcGnCJStf-bjnNKQ6gnAFJZu80e5jLzsaNJ3Z9p51Z6QFntjdcfpDt/s4032/FICZE2438.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1j_pl6mLbxc1tBySlePd2-oceCpr4xeKwIg_xdhXPNDgWRMzI2P8kKajtv71ZfWfv7MEdWx-CrUAITALgTcmgmIBI2NjOt-6mv1Dw-gYY5EWVvibMpGMZg8IdU01-o2D5jdcGnCJStf-bjnNKQ6gnAFJZu80e5jLzsaNJ3Z9p51Z6QFntjdcfpDt/w300-h400/FICZE2438.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hohner</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">After the accordion ensemble played we hung out with John for a bit. There was a group of us gathered </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">around to swap old stories and we had several good laughs. John had to get ready for his next event </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">and we were off to find a place to eat. He suggested to Dave and I that we stop at Gustav’s. I’m glad we </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">did. They have a 2nd floor deck and it was great to sit outside and enjoy the view below watching the </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">throngs of people go from shop to shop. The food was excellent and so was the service! </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I think this was a really good day for all the businesses in Leavenworth. As we roamed around town it </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">came up a few times that the weather has been pretty lousy and that today was the first really nice day. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">The town was packed and every establishment was busy, so yeah!, we’re all making some money today!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Well, the plan is to get back home before dark, so dang this day went by so fast. We’re on the west side </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">of town and we’re parked on the east side, so it was a bit of a trek. My legs were like rubber and sore, </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">but I made it.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qXdHGxYVSAJONr9XfqZkWkvxIEDN40gJHA6aAC3dSalcpBMAYsHcwqgU1RpiSopGFyufyA_vHA7XdK5zPrWFgi7Esvtr6NMFmr2s2KhojbCv7DSlLpw3g6G6kYFLydgK0OKlEK7hwtCizF0pLG8d5CaLc3AXj12VhbO8TYi23bNWoMiktTcOCvIY/s2929/IMG_7819.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2929" data-original-width="2929" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7qXdHGxYVSAJONr9XfqZkWkvxIEDN40gJHA6aAC3dSalcpBMAYsHcwqgU1RpiSopGFyufyA_vHA7XdK5zPrWFgi7Esvtr6NMFmr2s2KhojbCv7DSlLpw3g6G6kYFLydgK0OKlEK7hwtCizF0pLG8d5CaLc3AXj12VhbO8TYi23bNWoMiktTcOCvIY/w400-h400/IMG_7819.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Accordion Revolution by Bruce Triggs</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The drive back home was just as enjoyable and it was dusk when I dropped Dave off in Auburn about 8:20 PM. What a cool way to do a day. I enjoyed the fact this day included a few dear old friends and unexpectedly brought up many good memories and emotional ties to my Dad. As I headed from Dave’s for home in Renton, how fortuitous it is that tomorrow is Father’s Day. It touched my soul.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM1lLi_YD28B7X7-G9GMmrvNK5hGgCY-sjhYudl2HKpoVnfEmtI4ijnpP2_WaS9j93hi-mpttkoNSpZ7JvQzJSiLKN9T02UxYL1Km_BwqTEJwAf9SQZNKYNTV-S07DTax4-KXM7A8JAtkt_XeQG7dNQH5W95V-d2GuUB8Gjc7X_s1zvDekrng69eFD/s4032/IMG_7787.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM1lLi_YD28B7X7-G9GMmrvNK5hGgCY-sjhYudl2HKpoVnfEmtI4ijnpP2_WaS9j93hi-mpttkoNSpZ7JvQzJSiLKN9T02UxYL1Km_BwqTEJwAf9SQZNKYNTV-S07DTax4-KXM7A8JAtkt_XeQG7dNQH5W95V-d2GuUB8Gjc7X_s1zvDekrng69eFD/w400-h300/IMG_7787.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leavenworth Fire Hydrant with Wild Flowers</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Leavenworth, WA 98826, USA47.5962326 -120.661476547.549803398551774 -120.73014105078126 47.642661801448227 -120.59281194921876tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-58356428458429983242022-01-29T15:50:00.006-08:002022-07-05T21:22:39.166-07:00Happy Birthday, Mom.It’s my Mom’s birthday. She’d a been 98 today. Born in 1924, she grew up during
the Great Depression of the 1930s. This morning I read a few chapters from her
1990 memoir. <div><br /></div><div>Mom was a late arrival to the Larson family. Her Mother Edna was
44, and her Father Harvey was 50 when Mary Lee Larson was born. Their home was
in Hillyard, Spokane. Grandpa was a cabinet maker for the Great Northern
Railroad and he was one of the few that was gainfully employed during the
depression.</div><div><br /></div><div>In one chapter of her memoir, Mom talks about their daily life and routine.
They had a wood and coal stove and none of the conveniences we assume today as
necessary. Pretty much everything was done from scratch by hand like the Sunday
chicken dinner. Grandma ran the house, Grandpa worked and took care of the yard,
garden, chopped wood for the stove, and tended Edna's flower garden. I was moved
to tears reading how affectionate they were and that Harvey and Edna had such a loving
partnership. </div><div><br /></div><div>To think in the 1930s this was before wall to wall carpets, vacuum
cleaners, central heating, all rooms well lit, tv, computers, and the internet.
Hot water for Saturday’s bath was from the side tank on the kitchen stove. They
had a regimen, everyone their turn, and Grandpa was last and hopefully before
dark because there was no light in the bathroom. </div><div><br /></div><div>We moved from the Highlands to Earlington in 1957. This is when my childhood
memories really kick in. Mom was a great homemaker, an extremely energetic
progressive, and a task master. My brothers and I all had our chores to do.
She often quoted her sister Mildred. </div><div><br /></div><div> “Many hands make the task small.”</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom was always a voracious reader, she loved going to plays and musicals and
volunteering for many causes around town. She enjoyed music, making clothes,
art, entertaining, being social, Erma Bombeck, JFK, Emmet Watson of the
Seattle Times, and happy hour. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bless you Mom and thank you! I'm eternally grateful.</div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJJZ1PjoR_fKAuhVDDr3_YjCKFLQTLHDv47F1LjWAK0Oe0a_dqeM6gWyT0PoytyfkgC1LHkBkwnvpma_0_y2q9HXBqxtZOmECROP3UHmkYK3J_W9GPLBWK8M69oODCw2tbRPF60Kxr2-b8gmN22X-0Ip6oWytDdUF1rgtQgIAWF6yqTjk9gkxPtjbh=s640" style="display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="640" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJJZ1PjoR_fKAuhVDDr3_YjCKFLQTLHDv47F1LjWAK0Oe0a_dqeM6gWyT0PoytyfkgC1LHkBkwnvpma_0_y2q9HXBqxtZOmECROP3UHmkYK3J_W9GPLBWK8M69oODCw2tbRPF60Kxr2-b8gmN22X-0Ip6oWytDdUF1rgtQgIAWF6yqTjk9gkxPtjbh=w400-h263" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Larson's, Edna, Harvey, Mildred, Marjorie, and Mary Lee<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
Photo from 1961. It’s Harvey and Edna’s 60th wedding anniversary. They were
engaged in 1898 and married in 1901. </div><div><br /></div><div>#Family #FamilyHistory #HappyBirthdayMom #RentonWA #mypnwlife #ilovelocal #Spokane #Hillyard #pnwhistory</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Renton, WA, USA47.4796927 -122.207921819.169458863821156 -157.3641718 75.789926536178854 -87.0516718tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-15687385010107365322022-01-08T16:41:00.004-08:002022-07-17T14:57:31.492-07:00Any Time You Give Fully<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Any time you give fully of yourself - there are elements of your old self that are dying because a new self is in the process of emerging. - Van Neistat</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHclgvdHhFwGAiRGJJ-NjUa9hslhNqEdstW2XZqFsWlSCkvKSPR7jjZv8zMzvK4GtAM9FDKmZJ_9cdPCXICsGhD3JFt6blJA8Yio2QdOHTMimXgrJvzHJmzp6pvsjFLR9tLrHH93vuTg7IICXhI3r-bdFFWae6UPfciCtkkMabhVmnci1k4MnuuYy8=s4032"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHclgvdHhFwGAiRGJJ-NjUa9hslhNqEdstW2XZqFsWlSCkvKSPR7jjZv8zMzvK4GtAM9FDKmZJ_9cdPCXICsGhD3JFt6blJA8Yio2QdOHTMimXgrJvzHJmzp6pvsjFLR9tLrHH93vuTg7IICXhI3r-bdFFWae6UPfciCtkkMabhVmnci1k4MnuuYy8=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span id="docs-internal-guid-1a4e54aa-7fff-fb86-9a3a-ba9074516d9f"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kurt Vonnegut: Unstuck in Time</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Speaking of Kurt... He said on a few occasions that life after 60 (or was that 65?) was an epilogue. Geez I hope not, yet realize the truth of it. I feel in some way (almost 72) I’m just getting started. Mom always said I was a late bloomer. I wish I could talk to Mom and ask, “Just how late were you thinking?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I love the fact that Van Neistat is such a DIY (self made) kinda guy. Though he’s much younger than I, he seems like an old soul and more akin to someone my age. My oldest daughter is a few years older than he. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_xSqrlba_29IWaAWwTcVKp7epeMm_oC7Lx2yeCfsRHc3HNnUc0ffcNv30mrBq4KXFOtFAyzKPGjkQkry3F71YUcGhTBns51RSHPJz6k4t_129f-VX2jb0PBRbhMA_Iji-kzMHe3mtBsYbvj3pgE3sn9KTJ1B1amkqgHiAWHgagtB7PjyT9-FeK5BD=s2254" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2254" data-original-width="2254" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_xSqrlba_29IWaAWwTcVKp7epeMm_oC7Lx2yeCfsRHc3HNnUc0ffcNv30mrBq4KXFOtFAyzKPGjkQkry3F71YUcGhTBns51RSHPJz6k4t_129f-VX2jb0PBRbhMA_Iji-kzMHe3mtBsYbvj3pgE3sn9KTJ1B1amkqgHiAWHgagtB7PjyT9-FeK5BD=w400-h400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A survey marker downtown Renton, WA. 1/8/2022</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I enjoy Van’s way of doing things. When I was a kid and a young man, it was never about the money or the equipment. If you had an idea you carried it out with whatever you had on hand at the time. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Make it yourself!</span></p><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Renton, WA, USA47.4796927 -122.207921819.169458863821156 -157.3641718 75.789926536178854 -87.0516718tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-23802356507034921912021-08-26T20:11:00.010-07:002022-08-24T14:14:04.015-07:00For the Love of Maps: We were Bound to Mete<p><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve always had a passion for maps. It started when I was a kid. We grew up in a small neighborhood on the west edge of Renton that was right out of the movie American Graffiti. We were a little isolated because Sunset Highway cut us off from the rest of Earlington Hill on the north and the railroad tracks were a border to the south.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-29e6dc9a-7fff-9414-2154-4634e3d940b7"><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The rules were quite simple. We were free to roam just stay on our side of the highway. Across the street from our house was what we kids called the "Little Woods" and to the west a couple of blocks and down to the end of the alley past Taylor’s pasture was the "Big Woods.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mom could yell for us from the front porch when we were playing in the little woods, but when it was time to come home from the big woods, Dad would send our cocker spaniel </span><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Daisy</span><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to fetch us. We spent many a Saturday playing cowboys, explorers and Tarzan, but our favorite was playing Army. There were about a dozen of us guys that were close in age. We’d divide up into opposing platoons and head into the bush on patrol to find and hide from each other. We had tree houses and secret camps. We built rafts at the pond and swung on rope swings that were tied high up on large strategically located trees.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We communicated with mirrors flashing light signals, imitated bird calls, and left encrypted messages along the trails so our allies would know our whereabouts. Heading out in different directions we’d synchronize our watches to meet up at the big willow, the cave, or the secret sticker bush camp for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Planning was important and we spent a lot of time drawing elaborate maps of our missions.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Twenty five years later (1984) I’d find myself working at a title company and one of the cool things about it was the maps. My favorites were the Kroll Maps. These huge atlases were leatherette bound lithographed maps by section township range. The original cartography was done by hand and they were beautifully detailed with some details in color. We used them everyday all day long to locate property. On a busy day your arms got tired from hoisting them on and off the customer service counter. A Kroll Map set upright on the floor would almost come up to my shoulders and they were about 3 feet wide weighing anywhere from 10 to 30 pounds, depending on the volume.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhNXvk1iQytKDmVpsWaDa7y2AZOzMAo4HSa8nHYciF3qhVEDQbB7FgRONo3QZQJ02mH5Awr0qVJ9zol-100JpJDHHU7co1qh5vWGisMpweR6pNmXE087qLnes_WS420jb6f2ZSXsT1vYRcZzpqfL9cOSTOJcnbIKTy5JXeeKpfQyTnLdXB1a4XnfS/s646/Kroll-Books-square-IMG_3816.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="645" data-original-width="646" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWhNXvk1iQytKDmVpsWaDa7y2AZOzMAo4HSa8nHYciF3qhVEDQbB7FgRONo3QZQJ02mH5Awr0qVJ9zol-100JpJDHHU7co1qh5vWGisMpweR6pNmXE087qLnes_WS420jb6f2ZSXsT1vYRcZzpqfL9cOSTOJcnbIKTy5JXeeKpfQyTnLdXB1a4XnfS/s320/Kroll-Books-square-IMG_3816.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">Kroll Maps, King County, Washington</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">An open atlas displays a section or one square mile. We got so good at it you could give us an address almost anywhere in the county and we'd call out the volume, page number and the quarter section. We took great pride in that and enjoyed the shock value it had with customers.</span></span><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One thing I really liked about the Kroll Maps was you got a good indication as to how the property was created. We had that question a lot. "How was this lot created and what parcel did it originate from?" A lot of things <i>'run with the land'</i> as we say in the biz and what you can ultimately do with your piece of the American Dream dirt is determined by agreements that were made and recorded at the county in the past. By comparing the older Kroll Maps with the updated assessor’s maps, we knew where to look next.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Kroll Maps were truly a work of art and many skilled and talented cartographers collaborated to create them. They were not only beautiful, but they lasted for years and years even with heavy daily use and abuse. In the 1980’s a full set of Kroll Maps was our Google search engine.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Montserrat, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I love</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #212121; font-size: 11.5pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the digital maps and technology we have for property search today, but nothing replaces the wonderful tactile experience you have when tracking down a parcel on a hardcopy map.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>* </b>Parcels of land created out of acreage, not formal county recorded subdivisions, have legal descriptions using Metes and Bounds. In simple terms this is the surveyor starting at a given known point and/or defining a specific location then describing the boundary like a detailed walk with step by step directions using a compass around the perimeter.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com1Renton, WA47.4796927 -122.2079218-15.937042035946973 97.167078199999992 90 18.417078200000006tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-23260611152406482912021-07-03T14:02:00.011-07:002022-07-17T14:58:28.956-07:00KEEP THE LIGHTS ONSpontaneous events that trigger random memories have always fascinated me. Case in point: Back in 2012 it’s an unusually warm and sunny mid October day at the Seattle Center. My long time friend Dave Hoskin and I are attending the International Antiquarian Book Fair. <div><br /></div><div>For over a decade we looked forward to this event every year. I totally enjoyed these days wandering from booth to booth, the treasure hunt for old books by authors known or not, and the conversations with vendors and fellow attendees. Afterwards we’d venture out for a walk to share our discoveries and encounters over a bite to eat and a beverage. This afternoon we’re on Queen Anne Avenue and I look up at the Uptown Theater’s marquee.</div><div><br /></div><div>“<b>KEEP THE LIGHTS ON</b>”, directed by Ira Sachs. My thoughts have nothing to do with the film, but the title triggered a ‘Way Back Machine’ memory and it transports me back to 1960.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="155" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/elNX_pu8YiPTTmhe6Z79jgL7EklXoSb0Kl3nP8Tkol5OV9DJWDhjh5rqN2wG1X15aEd-mjQFttOWGl5sMPy8ZsOK4SAuoOo2PUz0VG_B2r1GN8fblWSQykuPOnqNp-Xsws-QLDdE=w400-h155" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px;" width="400" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>I’m 10 and my brother Steve is 9. The sun is going down fast and early as October sunsets do, even on a nice day. We’re about to head out the door for Grandma’s from our home in Earlington. Mom and Dad are out, I don’t remember why, and we’re following the plan when the phone rings. It’s Grandma, “Now you boys be careful out there and get here as quick as you can. I worry about you two!”</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Translation: Those of us kids here in the 1950s and 60s who had grandparents from the ‘Old Country’ (and almost all of us did) often heard these lovely phrases in a wide variety of broken English tonalities. They simply meant “be safe, I love you.”</i></div><div><br /></div><div>We live just a mile from Grandma and Grandpa’s house on Tobin Ave behind Renton High School. It’ll only take us a few minutes to get there on our bikes. Grandma continues, “I’ll see you two when you get here. It’s dark out so I’ll ‘<b>KEEP THE LIGHTS ON</b>’ so you don’t get lost. Now watch out for cars and I’ll be looking for you!”</div><div><br /></div><div>“Okay Grams, don’t you worry! We’re on our way! Love you and we’ll see you in a few!” </div><div><br /></div><div>Daisy, our cocker spaniel having completed her backyard pee and poop is now safely in the house with freshwater and a few biscuits. We scramble out the back door to grab our bikes from the garage and like warriors on a mystical autumn eve adventure (cue soundtrack: Rebel Rouser, Duane Eddy) we’re riding full tilt down the dark streets of Earlington, our neighborhood, full of anticipation for the dinner we know awaits. </div><div><br /></div><div>At Button’s Animal Hospital we bolt across the four lanes of Sunset Boulevard. It’s all downhill now so we’re flying past Langston Road and the Triple XXX Drive-In to Rainier Ave and downtown. As we cut north through the lot (before Safeway was there) to the school field, it’s pitch black and hard to see when suddenly this humongous sphere of intense bright light appears off in the distance over Tobin.</div><div><br /></div><div> “Oh My God, Grandma has the whole neighborhood lit up!” </div><div><br /></div><div>Neither Steve nor I can stop laughing as we cross the high school parking lot. “Oh Grandma! You have every light in the house on!” Every window shade is up, all curtains and drapes pulled wide open, even the garage lights out back are on!</div><div><br /></div><div>About 100 yards out I’m thinking, “No way we're gonna get lost tonight Grandma!” As we’re coming down the last stretch we can see her pacing the front porch. She’s peering into the darkness with intense determination for signs of our arrival. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like sayings go, “It was so bright you could have seen it from space!”, but then I recollect it predates the NASA Mercury Program. That won’t be possible until at least February 20, 1962 when John Glenn becomes our first astronaut to orbit the Earth. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bless you Grandma, I’m so eternally grateful. Every kid deserves the love of a bright light to guide them in the night. It’s now a cherished memory from a guy getting older who remembers that ‘once upon a time’ there were two young boys in Renton living the dream in 1960. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dinner by the way (as always at Grandma’s) was absolutely wonderful!</div><div><br /></div><div><i>(The Seattle International Antiquarian Book Fair and the (SIFF) Uptown Theater Marquee, October 14, 2012. Grandma Pauline's photo is a scan of a Polaroid photo (circa) 1968.)</i></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0301 Mercer St, Seattle, WA 98109, USA47.6240707 -122.351478547.612523291726013 -122.36864463769531 47.635618108273981 -122.33431236230469tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-27336889696024590572021-02-20T12:52:00.010-08:002022-06-25T15:35:10.248-07:00The Blackberry Chronicles<p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m picking up the pen to blog again. I’m working on a memoir of my old neighborhood Earlington, in Renton, Washington. The first rough draft I’ve worked on over several months is mostly about when we moved here in 1956 through 1962 and the Seattle World’s Fair. </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-cb64eb7e-7fff-362a-42a9-c0e183965f8e"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These rough sketches are mostly about being a kid 7 to 12 years old. I’m having issues with it, several false starts, and I’m way too self conscious. There’s no flow to the stories yet, but I’m determined to keep it going. My motivation to complete it has a lot to do with documenting it for my kids. Like, there was a time before the digital age, the information age, the globally connected age, and here’s a few stories.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7PhNU6XWld4/YDF1RCTdcFI/AAAAAAABAag/YzzoqWk6T90jznu5BcRmi720BWK1GovvACLcBGAsYHQ/s520/Earlington.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="501" data-original-width="520" height="385" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7PhNU6XWld4/YDF1RCTdcFI/AAAAAAABAag/YzzoqWk6T90jznu5BcRmi720BWK1GovvACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h385/Earlington.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our home in Earlington, Renton WA. (circa 1958)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m going to be 71 in a few weeks, so I’m likely facing (MAI) mortality awareness issues. I’ve thought a lot about Family history this last year and continue to feel the pangs of not having asked them the many questions I wish I would have before they passed from our physical plane to the ethereal cosmos.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This blog's title, The Blackberry Chronicles, denotes a deep reflection back to those days of innocence, though I’ve been very inconsistent about maintaining its themes and direction. And, very much like me, it’s totally eclectic and scattered with randomness and rabbit hole adventures. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AB-U1sYArEQ/YDF1t2MI1eI/AAAAAAABAao/DzMAjoOVPmg6iUTYy_IpsLtA5LPAezyHQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Club-House-Dad-Steve-Rene.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AB-U1sYArEQ/YDF1t2MI1eI/AAAAAAABAao/DzMAjoOVPmg6iUTYy_IpsLtA5LPAezyHQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h400/Club-House-Dad-Steve-Rene.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Building our clubhouse in the back yard. (circa 1958)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It has nothing to do with Blackberry phones! Though my first smartphone was one of them. Across the street from our home was the Little Woods and to the West a few blocks or so was The Big Woods. Many adventures would take place here and the blackberry bushes (or as we kids referred to them back then) ‘the sticker bushes’ prevailed. Great places for secret camps!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now I’m plotting a new (old) course and at least for a while I plan to use it to work through some ideas, memories and stories of these early days so my kids have a record.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ttsITb-JlQ/YDF2QjxgI_I/AAAAAAABAa0/70StI9V8mRsDfQTxZVyR6HM_c7f5mgCdwCLcBGAsYHQ/s912/Mom-Marjorie-Mildred-1956.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="911" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ttsITb-JlQ/YDF2QjxgI_I/AAAAAAABAa0/70StI9V8mRsDfQTxZVyR6HM_c7f5mgCdwCLcBGAsYHQ/w399-h400/Mom-Marjorie-Mildred-1956.png" width="399" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and her sisters, Auntie's Marjorie and Mildred. (circa 1957)<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our neighborhood was only a mile and a nice walk to downtown. It was rural in nature and feel. It was an old neighborhood on the west side of town. No sidewalks, open drainage ditches, a few street light bulbs on telephone poles here and there and no cul-de-sacs. It was a simple old grid and most every home had an alley with a garage out back. Our little niche was the area below Sunset Highway, also known as Dunlap Canyon Road, then later Martin Luther King Jr. Way.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TRzOG4YX6jY/YDF6xdnLWgI/AAAAAAABAbA/vX8OuaQFLPgKJ9vg4JKX7WbjJ6oDlxm6ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/ANDEE6796.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TRzOG4YX6jY/YDF6xdnLWgI/AAAAAAABAbA/vX8OuaQFLPgKJ9vg4JKX7WbjJ6oDlxm6ACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h400/ANDEE6796.JPG" width="400" /></a><br /><br /><br /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">I live on the East Hill now, heading up past City Hall on Benson Road.</div><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0438 SW 4th Pl, Renton, WA 98057, USA47.4772883 -122.223716747.4758380702626 -122.22586246721191 47.4787385297374 -122.22157093278808tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-48520527202863406792019-10-27T17:12:00.003-07:002022-07-17T14:59:21.114-07:00Lake Washington Boulevard, Seattle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">I'm driving north up Lake Washington Boulevard for University Village Seattle this morning to teach a marketing class at the Microsoft Store.</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">I enjoy this lakeside drive and the views, but especially I like avoiding the morning commute up Interstate 5 into the city. </span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">The autumn yellows and reds are just beginning. My CD player is freshly loaded with music and my iPhone with podcasts. Let's do this day!</span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">It's mostly clear and sunny this morning and the fog is lifting over Lake Washington.</span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm enjoying the views over Lake Washington from the Leschi North Marina with the Bellevue Skyline and Cascade Mountains as a backdrop.</span> </span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Leschi, Seattle, WA, USA47.6003094 -122.2928109-27.999551552603762 97.0821891 90 18.332189099999994tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-870124008419464512019-10-27T11:45:00.002-07:002022-07-17T15:00:22.783-07:00Old Town, Arlington, WA.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">October 1, 2019</b></h3>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">I drove up to Arlington this Tuesday morning to teach an Instagram marketing class to local real estate brokers. It was a lovely drive up from Renton. Just north of Everett on Interstate 5 I'm passing by Smith Island.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RzTmDyQel2c/XbTjGREMG3I/AAAAAAAA4NA/gyeEB3OFo5EbVmywqPVFklJfzzPek__QwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Barn-North-Everett-I-5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Looking west from Interstate 5 at Buse Timber just north of Everett,Washington." border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RzTmDyQel2c/XbTjGREMG3I/AAAAAAAA4NA/gyeEB3OFo5EbVmywqPVFklJfzzPek__QwCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/Barn-North-Everett-I-5.jpg" title="Buse Timber just north of Everett, Washington." width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">We started our class at Moe's Coffee Bar on Olympic Avenue. </span></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">It's a beautiful October 1st. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBAjKrHsAaVquwxcOknGzVkEuWSftV1HYMYywNtyQn9QO0tqJAsqpcBjAs8bIxkrwNahDRWB22cLUF8nxJdP7c94SjlH0Y_fbRt2f8uuzR59XDrn_4v7WV0B1lsLKL6R7KUZ7xz9YSP481/s1600/IMG_2328.JPG"><img alt="Moe's Coffee Bar on Olympic, Arlington, WA." border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBAjKrHsAaVquwxcOknGzVkEuWSftV1HYMYywNtyQn9QO0tqJAsqpcBjAs8bIxkrwNahDRWB22cLUF8nxJdP7c94SjlH0Y_fbRt2f8uuzR59XDrn_4v7WV0B1lsLKL6R7KUZ7xz9YSP481/w300-h400/IMG_2328.JPG" title="Moe's Coffee Bar on Olympic, Arlington, WA." width="300" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">We chatted about content creation, hashtags, stories, Google's Snapseed photo editor and a few tips about taking photos with smartphones then hit the streets to explore the shops in downtown Arlington.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bSWkymYPUyo/XbTdaAkV-UI/AAAAAAAA4Mw/-mhuq4xw68oBaLrDYPFA8jlhUsi-sP5WgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2415.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Out front of Arlington Velo Sport Bicycle Shop looking south on Olympic Avenue." border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bSWkymYPUyo/XbTdaAkV-UI/AAAAAAAA4Mw/-mhuq4xw68oBaLrDYPFA8jlhUsi-sP5WgCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h400/IMG_2415.JPG" title="Arlington Velo Sport Bicycle Shop." width="400" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">We stopped out front of Arlington Velo Sport Bicycle Shop on Olympic Avenue. There are so many wonderful locally owned small businesses here in town.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V1An_F3SkRQ/XbToZ8DjrZI/AAAAAAAA4NM/IGbKQsNZ2Jw_c_UFjkfYykgFEH5Pxn4XACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2416.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="In front of Arlington Velo Sport Bicycle Shop looking north on Olympic Avenue." border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V1An_F3SkRQ/XbToZ8DjrZI/AAAAAAAA4NM/IGbKQsNZ2Jw_c_UFjkfYykgFEH5Pxn4XACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h400/IMG_2416.JPG" title="Arlington Velo Sport Bicycle Shop." width="400" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">We didn't have time to stop here, but I just loved this inviting scene at Playa Bonita Mexican Restaurant!</span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">I'm talking to the group about the three axioms of hyper-local marketing... location, lifestyle, and community as we're walking down the street to Arlington Hardware taking lots of photos. </span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">We crossed the street to gather in Legion Memorial Park to chat about marketing strategies, edit our content and posting to Instagram. </span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">In the parking lot I just had to stop and chat a few minutes with this guy and his beautiful 1955 Ford Thunderbird.</span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i8HvnyJh_YY/XbTwcEj0OEI/AAAAAAAA4Ns/KLnBOXrzH2kQqbH7Cb4zc2wXbdhNrJlHwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_2421.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="1955 Ford Thunderbird at Legion Memorial Park in Arlington, Washington." border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i8HvnyJh_YY/XbTwcEj0OEI/AAAAAAAA4Ns/KLnBOXrzH2kQqbH7Cb4zc2wXbdhNrJlHwCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h400/IMG_2421.JPG" title="1955 Ford Thunderbird at Legion Memorial Park." width="400" /></a></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">It was my kind of day and a great group of local real estate pros that made for a really fun class. We were so fortunate to have such a perfect early autumn day to play outside in lovely downtown Arlington.</span><br />
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">Shout out to Moe's for hosting our get together! Great treats, super friendly crew and a fine cup of coffee! Thank You!!</span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-41511979632035205872019-07-28T20:17:00.004-07:002022-07-17T15:02:08.357-07:00Renton River Day's Parade, July 27, 2019.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I had a blast at the Renton River's Day Parade, Saturday, July 27, 2019. This post is about a few photos I took. It's a brief (where's Waldo) study about the people. One of the things I love about Renton, Washington, my hometown, is its amazing diversity.<br />
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Renton has become one of the most ethnically and racially diverse cities in the Pacific Northwest. It's not paradise, what city is, right? But for me it's home and I enjoy the wonderful mishmash of cultural backgrounds.<br />
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My family immigrated here from mostly Europe at the very beginning of the last century, circa 1900. A few arrived even a few years earlier. They started up here as laborers, mostly as miners, farmers, bakers, lumbermen, and carpenters.<br />
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They were working class people who showed up with nothing and worked hard to create businesses, homes, families, neighborhoods, and a better future for all whom they loved. That 'love' included many that were different than them. People from other places, other races, immigrants like themselves. You became a beloved friend and an extended member of the family if you could be trusted to do the right thing.<br />
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I spent the weekend looking at my photos from the parade with no real agenda when it hit me. These are my people. I opted for this post to share the photos that depicted them instead of the parade itself.<br />
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I enjoyed several delightful impromptu conversations. And I also celebrate the amazing diversity of food that's now available here because them!<br />
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Their stories are precious to me and they remind me of the those told by my grandparents.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Downtown Renton, Renton, WA 98057, USA47.480034 -122.207832923.672326735962955 -157.3640829 71.287741264037052 -87.0515829tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-54956276319967889742017-02-15T18:07:00.005-08:002022-07-17T15:17:00.018-07:00Into the City I go...<div class="separator" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mm0vuJpgoq4/WKPXwiPhqPI/AAAAAAAAvDI/_AiXcaqbC_8-DkYYlhmmReVAW7_p9B1agCLcB/s1600/Seattle-dowtown-northBeacon-IMG_7300.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mm0vuJpgoq4/WKPXwiPhqPI/AAAAAAAAvDI/_AiXcaqbC_8-DkYYlhmmReVAW7_p9B1agCLcB/w400-h153/Seattle-dowtown-northBeacon-IMG_7300.png" width="400" /></a></div><p>Into Seattle last week (Feb 7, 2017) ... Enjoying the skyline from north Beacon Hill, Rizal Bridge, through Chinatown to Capitol Hill. I'm off the Freeway just cuz. It's not about saving time, but having some quality time.</p>
<p>Over years <i>(and several of them)</i> I worked downtown or traveled a lot to downtown and inner city neighborhoods for appointments, classes, etc. I lived on Capitol Hill (1978-1983) when I was involved with Cornish School of the Arts and Soundwork Studio at And/Or Arts up on Pine and Broadway in the old Odd Fellows Hall.</p>
<p>This was one of my favorite chapters in life and I refer to this era in the city as my early Gothic period. Then you'd see many on Broadway dressed in black <i>(Johnny Cash?)</i>, lots of leather, boots, silver rivets, armor, <i>(wallet)</i> chains, and spiked <i>(rainbow)</i> hairdos... Those were the days my friends... About future, art was important, so were new ideas and their exploration. I'm blowing the dust off and renewing a few of my old oaths and pledges.</p>
<p>But no matter who I am, who you are, who "they" are... Most often back then we'd all find ourselves together in the city at a place like the Comet Tavern. We'd all be saddled up to the bar discussing art, music, theater, literature, politics, the future, and life the universe and everything while smoking hand rolled cigarettes from the Top Tobacco can on the bar, drinking cheap beers from the tap by the pitcher, and crunching peanut shells on the floor.</p>
<p>I love Seattle. I love what it was and (most of the time but not always) what it's becoming... Keep it real. Keep it local. Share. Love. Contribute. Enjoy. Explore.</p>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Dr Jose P Rizal Bridge, Dr Jose P Rizal Bridge, Seattle, WA 98144, USA47.595230099999988 -122.317247119.284996263821142 -157.4734971 75.905463936178833 -87.1609971tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-31570527153477905362017-02-09T16:58:00.004-08:002021-07-04T10:30:20.759-07:00Life is Quite Duckie here in the Pacific Northwest this week...I had a wonderful time in Issaquah yesterday at Gilman Village teaching a mobile social media marketing class. We went from store to store and had a great encounter with the owner and staff at the Lucky You. What a fun stop! Lovely unique home decor and gifts. As we visited I discovered these ducks... so apropos for the occasion! We had snow on the ground and it was raining mixed with snow! It brought a chuckle to me, I remember as a kid in grade school wearing one of those yellow slicker raincoats.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ynvWw2S9FaM/WJ0PItqYLSI/AAAAAAAAu9s/1LH2nPy86GA9Ew0l49s538BUmgPMywyXACLcB/s1600/IMG_7380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ynvWw2S9FaM/WJ0PItqYLSI/AAAAAAAAu9s/1LH2nPy86GA9Ew0l49s538BUmgPMywyXACLcB/s400/IMG_7380.JPG" width="400" height="400" /></a></div> <div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0317 NW Gilman Blvd STE 32, Issaquah, WA 98027, USA47.5398305 -122.041115319.229596663821155 -157.1973653 75.850064336178846 -86.8848653tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-83517263823290518442016-12-28T15:27:00.002-08:002021-07-04T10:41:43.822-07:00Don's Green River Music<p>My longtime friend Don Gardner had Green River Music in Auburn, Washington for 40 years. It was a gathering place for many musicians like myself in the area. In April 2016 Don decided to close the store and threw a party. I made this short video of the occasion to pay tribute. Here's a few minutes with some old friends and acquaintances doing what musicians do best when they get together, play!
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<p>Live Music is Best!</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0216 Auburn Way S, Auburn, WA 98002, USA47.305276700000007 -122.225276647.30491294240106 -122.22581304180298 47.305640457598955 -122.22474015819702tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-17053931861572315342016-08-18T17:04:00.002-07:002021-07-04T10:54:57.683-07:00Then and Now... a son reflects<p>Today is my Dad’s birthday, so I’m thinking about him. I’ve posted about him before and thought I’d share something today, but I didn’t want to repeat myself too much so I took a little trip back through my Activerain archives this week to take a look see and that proved to be quite revealing.</p>
<p>One thing really stuck out and that was how much my technology has changed since I started blogging in the rain back in November 2008.</p>
<p>One of my early posts back in March 2009 included a little video. The soundtrack was from an evening I sat in with Dad at Cavallini’s in Cle Elum (1976).</p>
<p><strong>As I'm reading I start to laugh...</strong></p>
<p><em>I’m listening to tunes on my iPod. Does anyone still have one?</em></p>
<p><em>I used a Flip Mino camera to shoot the video. I had two, they're both dead in a drawer somewhere.</em></p>
<p><em>My phone, a Blackberry 8330 in my shirt pocket. Small screen, but I liked the keyboard.</em></p>
<p><em>I had a Dell Latitude D610 with 512 Mb RAM, 40 GB hard drive, Windows XP and it was heavy. It had WiFi, but hardly anyone except a few hotels had it then and you had to pay extra to use it!</em></p>
<p><em>I lugged a projector around that cost about $2,000, weighed over 10 lbs, had fuzzy focus, but you could heat a large room with it.</em></p>
<p><strong>This morning 2008/2009 seems like a very long time ago</strong> from a certain technology point of view.</p>
<p>Who’d a thought then that over 70% of us now online are on a mobile device! That we’d text more than talk, yet ironically many talk to text! My iPhone 6 Plus is my office and my portable media production center. I have a Magnasonic mini projector that’s light with WiFi, USB, HDMI, Bluetooth, audio out, runs on battery for about an hour, and it’s footprint is smaller than my phone and cost about $300.</p>
<p>My HP laptop has a beautiful high resolution 1080p screen, uses 802.11ac high bandwidth WiFi, and it’s so light I have to check my tote bag to make sure I didn’t forget it. </p>
<p>I rarely burn CDs anymore and most of the software I use is cloud based. I can read and write to my French cousin using a translator, live stream video from several platforms, video chat instantly, and augment reality with Pokeman GO. Let alone talk to Cortana, Siri, or Google to search, map, and shop. That’s a lot of change in just a few years...</p>
<p><strong>It’s all a matter of perspective.</strong> When Dad picked up his first accordion in the early 1930s they weren’t electric. It wasn’t until the late 1940s that he’d attach a <em>‘silver dollar’</em> microphone and use a tube amp.</p>
<p>I remember him talking about the first radio to show up on Tobin Avenue when he was a kid. The neighbors would gather on the front porch to listen to shows like Amos n’ Andy, Bing Crosby, and Burns and Allen.</p>
<p>His first recording device was a wire recorder. We played with it as kids in the late 50s. The wire would often break then instantly spring off the reels into a great big tangled ball that would take us hours to unravel. In the 1970s Dad got his first all new bleeding edge electronic organ accordion built for him by Petosa Accordions of Seattle.</p>
<p><strong>I’m thinking my time is coming</strong> and before you know it I'll be hearing, <em>“Grandpa, back in the olden days did you.......?”</em> ;O)</p>
<p>So, Happy Birthday Dad! You'd a been 95 today! It's been fun running <em>'then and now'</em> threads about you and technology.</p>
<p><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><strong><a href="http://actvra.in/4Vdw" target="_blank">Enough about work... let’s go for a drive</a></strong> originally posted to Activerain on March 10, 2009.</span></p>
<p><iframe style="float: left;" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/doZafOzi6Y4" width="480" height="360" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0200 E 1st St, Cle Elum, WA 98922, USA47.1943342 -120.936163447.193969680649531 -120.93669984180298 47.19469871935047 -120.93562695819702tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-56516389180410184052016-08-15T15:00:00.004-07:002022-07-17T15:05:42.222-07:007th and Olive, downtown Seattle<p>Downtown Seattle at 7th and Olive Way. I love the view from here looking south on 7th Avenue past Pacific Place all the way down to Two Union Square.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9bXgXc1Ju04/Uzyf4aw3oII/AAAAAAAAW_0/zNF6vQ7ibeI/s1600/Seattle-Pacific-Place_8055.jpg"><img 7th="" and="" border="0" downtown="" height="300" olive="" seattle.="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9bXgXc1Ju04/Uzyf4aw3oII/AAAAAAAAW_0/zNF6vQ7ibeI/w400-h300/Seattle-Pacific-Place_8055.jpg" title="7th and Olive, downtown Seattle. alt=" width="400" /></a></</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com07th Ave & Olive Way, Seattle, WA 98101, USA47.613616500000013 -122.335188923.85990524041128 -157.4914389 71.367327759588747 -87.17893890000002tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-14092827416056236062015-08-07T10:10:00.004-07:002022-07-17T15:06:01.344-07:00Amtrak Cascades on a blue moon Friday...<p><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>TUK TAC PDX a blue moon Friday.</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Do you love trains? I do... <em>I don’t take them nearly enough.</em> I love kinda everything about them. What they are, the sounds they make, they’re on rails, they got the best horns... </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My good friend Dave and I hung out in the Pearl District and we went to one of our all time favorite bookstores on the planet, Powell’s Books... We've both been going here since the 1970s.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">So the video is kind of the bookends to that story... I caught some great morning footage at the Amtrak Tukwila station, and later that evening leaving Portland, crossing “The Mighty Columbia River” over the bridge back to Washington State.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xz0H8gXSfso?rel=0" width="560"></iframe></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There is a romance, I have it about trains. I can’t ride one that I don’t think about famous train stories and movies like Murder on the Orient Express, The Train, Transsiberian, Von Ryan’s Express, The Lady Vanishes, etc. etc. and I remember the train rides we did as kids to Spokane from Seattle to see Grandma & Grandpa Larson.</span></p>
<p class="center"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">TUK = Tukwila, TAC = Tacoma and PDX = P</span>ortland</span></p>
<center><span style="font-size: 8pt;">#Amtrak #AmtrakCascades #TUK #Tukwila #TAC #Tacoma #PDX #Portland #PNW #Trains</span></center><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Tukwila, 7301 Longacres Way, Tukwila, WA 98188, USA47.4606941 -122.240528344.505241198672778 -126.63505955 50.416147001327218 -117.84599705tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-969870942351212402015-07-24T13:53:00.003-07:002022-07-17T15:06:23.902-07:00CAR WASH<p><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Do you remember the first time you went through a car wash? I was at the Brown Bear on Rainier in Renton this week. Hey it’s summertime and I had a bunch of dead bugs splattered across the windshield and real dusty, I’m thinking, “No way I can show up for my presentation tomorrow looking like this!”</span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/M5VAZqZn1SU?rel=0" width="560"></iframe></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As the attendant pops the big GO button and the roar and whir begin it triggers a memory of when my youngest daughter Paige was along for the first time. Her older siblings Shannon and Jeff had been through the car wash several times. For them it was a thrill and kinda like going on a ride at the Fair. But for Paige, only 3 or 4 then, it was really scary as we entered the tunnel of monsters.</span></p>
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<p class="center"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><em>Oh, the things that dads remember... </em></span></p>
<p class="center">#renton #pnw #carwash #kids #family #memories #dads</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0621 Rainier Ave S, Renton, WA 98057, USA47.4744909 -122.216047919.164257063821154 -157.3722979 75.784724736178845 -87.0597979tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-15835053241952787612015-07-11T09:21:00.002-07:002022-07-17T15:05:22.871-07:00Born to be Wild<h2>Born to be Wild...</h2>
Wild probably isn’t the first thing one conjures up in their mind when they see an accordion. But hey, this was the 1950s...<br /><br />
Like father, like son, I had one of these strapped to me at @ 3 years old. I’m 4 here. I played the accordion into my teens. My dad was a little disappointed when I took up the guitar and embraced rock & roll. That’s when the wild side started to show up, around 1963.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Rene Fabre playing accordion in the bedroom. Renton Highlands circa 1954." class="center" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ5WiU91m1y5oBXW-CWlcuExOJFjXZiWW-86esAy33M6gHRFGP5VVAIgl4kiFfhBp6l4i-LxnvrCLQmRvLoR4wlpxFeCReaRj1OYmdnjjsGo5y-geGkNv4PJRzyY_IhecqdI1BQk-4LJM/w400-h400/Rene-Accordion-1954.png" title="Rene playing the accordion (circa 1954)" width="400" /></div>
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Before the English Invasion, before Grunge, Psychedelic, Experimental Rock, or Heavy Metal we had Paul Revere and the Raiders, The Sonics, The Fabulous Wailers, The Kingsmen, The Ventures, The Dave Lewis Trio, Merrilee Rush and the Turnabouts and many more...<br /><br />
Back then these local bands got a lot of airplay on KJR AM with Pat O’Day (KJR Seattle, channel 95!) and when we were in high school, that was probably the only station we ever listened to in the car, cruising the loop in Renton. It was right out of American Graffiti.<br /><br />
Besides Jimi Hendrix, who came much later, I first loved The Ventures. They’re one of the first reasons I was attracted to the guitar. Did you know they originated from Tacoma? Who could forget Walk, Don’t Run (1960) or Wipe Out! (1963) Over the years they sold over 100 million records and were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2008.<br /><br />
<a href="http://actvra.in/4G49" target="_blank">Born to be Wild</a> was originally published by the author on the Activerain network.<br /><br />
#accordion #Renton #PNW #1960s #rock&roll <div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0Renton, WA, USA47.4796927 -122.207921823.676752143204538 -157.3641718 71.282633256795464 -87.0516718tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-79231124561742386062015-06-29T11:53:00.004-07:002022-07-17T15:06:49.581-07:0015 seconds of local fame!Who’d a thought! I’m on the Jumbotron at a Seahawks game!<br /><br />
<em>Well, not really, but kind of...</em> (6/25/15) We're at Westfield Southcenter Mall in Tukwila, Washington. I’m teaching Mobile Communication Boot Camp, <em>a.k.a. hashtag</em> #mobilecomcamp for a group of local Realtors®.<br /><br />
I’m having a blast! We’re working our way through the mall and this segment of the class is about using images in the context of #location #lifestyle and #community as a web presence and personal brand strategy. So there’s a bunch of us wandering from store to store shooting lots of photos with our smartphones.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="I'm on the Jumbotron!" class="center" height="300" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O-BUDMWNOvk/VY2ujEXu3NI/AAAAAAAAkEI/A9nB5pLwo1o/w400-h300/Rene-jumbotron-IMG_1462.JPG" title="I'm on the Jumbotron!" width="400" /></div>
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Half the fun doing this 3 clock hour class is noticing some of the people around us and their reactions.<br /><br />
<em>"Who are these people? Are they foreign tourists? They're taking photos of everything!"</em><br /><br />
As I catch up to my teammate, Jill Bell, she's taking a photo through the front window of the Made in Washington Store. There’s a really cool Lego Seahawks game displayed and it has its own (mini) Jumbotron displaying camera shots of the field and players like it's a live game.<br /><br />
<em> Ha ha...</em> I was caught in the reflection and ended up on the big screen. My 15 seconds of local fame! :O)<br /><br />
<small><a href="http://actvra.in/4FF9" target="_blank">15 seconds of local fame</a> was originally posted by the author on the Activerain Real Estate Network.</small><br /><small>#mobilecomcamp #WestfieldSC #Tukwila #Seattle #MadeinWashington #Legos #Seahawks</small><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com02800 Southcenter Mall, Seattle, WA 98188, USA47.4588849 -122.25796423.642710460316561 -157.41421400000002 71.275059339683438 -87.101714tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-73275907758169124742015-06-20T14:52:00.003-07:002022-07-17T15:07:15.134-07:00The Club House, Earlington 1959.<div class="center">
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">With Dad’s Day coming right up this Sunday of course I’ve been thinking about him. I thought it would be fun to share this photo on Throwback Thursdays... It was taken back in 1959 not long after we moved to Earlington. I wish I had another picture that was a little more upfront and personal, but this one I am fond of and it conjures many memories.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Dad had a little help from Grandpa, but for the most part he built our clubhouse himself. In hindsight, Dad was always so busy working we didn’t sometimes know or appreciate he actually had “dad skills”... Along the way we learned he did a lot of carpentry work for my Grandpa, who built many homes in Renton and the area, when he was a kid until he left for the war right after high school, class of RHS 1940.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">This photo cracks me up. Dad as always when he's doing anything, totally focused. Me however, the next to (plum that falls not far from tree) and I’m not sure if I’m just spacing out gazing into future or a little impatient. “Is it done yet?” And there's my brother Steve, looking on. Simply excited we got a clubhouse almost!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><img alt="The Clubhouse, Earlington 1959" class="center" height="400" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xX4sEPuFNkI/VUwlmOqltzI/AAAAAAAAiZc/UQT_Y5YuZYw/w400-h400/Club-House-Dad-Steve-Rene.png" title="The Clubhouse, Earlington 1959" width="400" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">My brother Steve and I had so much fun in that little clubhouse. It was many things to us and a wonderful place under the willow tree, rain or shine. It was our hangout for playing army, cowboys, spies, and explorers. We ran a weekly neighborhood newspaper from here and played spaceships going to Mars. It was an outpost in the wilderness and a cabin in the mountains.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Our favorite times were in summer sleeping in it overnight then in the morning (Dad taught us how to get the BBQ going) cook our own bacon & eggs and whatever in a cast iron pan for breakfast. I'm sure Mom loved the messes we made...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Dad’s are whom they are and they all had (have) something wonderful and unique to give and share. At this time in my life I am so very grateful my Dad was my Dad. We understand them one way as kids growing up, and now, in reflection, in quite a different way as adults.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Regardless if your Dad is alive or not, celebrate them. Dad’s aren’t and never were perfect, they're dad's. And we wouldn’t be here if that weren’t so. </span>
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<small><a href="http://actvra.in/4FmM" target="_blank">The Club House</a> was originally posted by the author on the Activerain network.</small></center>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0438 SW 4th Pl, Renton, WA 98057, USA47.4772883 -122.223716719.167054463821152 -157.3799667 75.787522136178836 -87.0674667tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-24944331872124315092015-06-15T18:06:00.003-07:002022-07-17T15:07:38.651-07:00Spokane, Children of the Sun...The indigenous people of the area, the Spokanes, date back about 13,000 years. They lived near Spokane Falls in what is now downtown Spokane hunting the abundant wild game, fishing for salmon and gathered plants, roots and berries in the nearby western foothills of the Rocky Mountains.<br />
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The European explorers and fur traders started showing up in 1810 and the first settlers J.J. Downing and S.R. Scranton established a claim here in 1871. The area really started growing when the Northern Pacific Railway reached Spokane in 1891 and the population rose to almost 37,000 by 1900.<br />
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My maternal grandfather, Harvey Larson, 24 at the time, came to the area in 1901 from Michigan to follow his 18 year old bride to be, Edna Doyne. Her family moved here in 1898. I remember our family trips from Seattle to Spokane as a kid in the late 50’s and early 60’s, most memorably those by train.<br />
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In the late 70’s I’d come to Spokane to hangout at the Gonzaga music department. I worked local restaurants by day (mainly because you could eat) and by night I played the wonderful grand pianos and often composed into the wee hours of the morning.<br />
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Funny all these years later I’m back in town to teach social media to local real estate professionals. <br />
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBm9-1KrhQDPCUDc-_ldVoxokbyULt3f7Y96iaMe4wpMR8cFfp7TYM_jvyYnVQzdyCXrucRi-z5gT6J9rERSbX-oDFcYRFSf8sFwdUzXBAde5Ps8UfsGBBTUapSxjeP16LedhaEoGOmtM6/s1249/gonzaga-3-front.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="1249" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBm9-1KrhQDPCUDc-_ldVoxokbyULt3f7Y96iaMe4wpMR8cFfp7TYM_jvyYnVQzdyCXrucRi-z5gT6J9rERSbX-oDFcYRFSf8sFwdUzXBAde5Ps8UfsGBBTUapSxjeP16LedhaEoGOmtM6/w400-h300/gonzaga-3-front.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />The median age of a real estate broker is currently 56 and many here and elsewhere in the Pacific Northwest are older. Yet, the median age of a first time homebuyer is now 32 and represent about 38% of purchases in 2014. This segment of the market will to grow in 2015. I like to point out that the average age of an online gamer is 32 years old. It lightens up the conversation and sheds a little light on the audience they’re trying to reach.<br />
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Many show up to class in hopes of learning better ways to connect with millennials and much of what I talk about is, <em>“Well... Where are they?”</em> Market to the room that’s full, not empty. Most of them are now on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, LinkedIn and Twitter. A few have a blog and some follow blogs if the topic is of interest.<br />
<br />I enjoy a few hours on Friday afternoon on West Main Ave near Division which is now part of a new and expanding University District. The old brick buildings and warehouses are being transformed into wonderful collaborative spaces for local small businesses.<br />
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I had several great conversations with owners and employees of these local shops, restaurants, brew pubs, and art galleries. You immediately pick up on the energy of this vibrant and repurposed area of town. I wish them all every success. It’s so encouraging to experience these small business entrepreneurs making it happen, doing what they love to do, and contributing to the community. Hopefully, more of them will soon be able to realize another dream, a home of their own.<br />
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It’s true, the sun does shine more here in the inland empire than it does in Seattle. I enjoy the scale of Spokane and life here. Have a great 2015 Spokaloo, <em>as mom would affectionately say</em>. I look forward to seeing you again soon.<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com040 East Spokane Falls Boulevard, Spokane, WA 99202, USA47.6594767 -117.4095257000000225.656990699999998 -158.71811970000002 69.6619627 -76.100931700000018tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3277552559564951657.post-26102912681671544722015-06-13T18:15:00.002-07:002022-07-17T15:08:20.220-07:00Social Media is best served with doodles and coffee.<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">One of the things I really enjoy about my work is the people! And I love the fact I’m out and about and we’re always up to something creative and interesting. I love brainstorming about marketing in the here and now with my coworkers and clients.</span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">Some of the best times ever have been meetings at coffee shops and cafes. A morning get together over a good cup of Joe is one of my favorites. I like the social setting. For me it’s the perfect place to talk about online marketing concepts and social media strategies.</span><br />
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/W6Qe1Mfe7ftOWEMPW24bC9MTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite" target="_blank"><img alt="Louisa's Cafe, on Eastlake, Seattle." class="center" height="293" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1FBtxqsOGJk/VTrku5x_82I/AAAAAAAAhw4/L_Pnw_0DB_Q/w400-h293/Louisa%252527s_0827.jpg" title="Louisa's Cafe, on Eastlake, Seattle." width="400" /></a></div>
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">As much as I am a total nerd student about technology and the way of the life online, I have a longtime old school habit. I doodle... My brain simply works better when I make sketches of our conversation.</span><br />
<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/neT2gG4lr_ohWjdciaC2-NMTjNZETYmyPJy0liipFm0?feat=embedwebsite" target="_blank"><img alt="Real Estate in the Social Age." class="center" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qV1MyNVINag7xQbX63-6aRXx8M8CQL0TklbLXe6IcsFfj2ewOx65g1IyP9-e2cqaQllVcXBYeZXKC5idXsXnU_ayM2ETegAuDIr0ohTfAY31_-CiEp9ixB2Wcjk3G06wEK7nRqXaUn8/w400-h293/RE-SocialAge-Sketch.jpg" title="Real Estate in the Social Age." width="400" /></a></div>
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">So when I’m out the door in the morning I load up my Explorer including my briefcase, my laptop, my iPad, and of course, I always have my iPhone with me. My 6 Plus is my office! </span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">And I always make sure I have 2 sheets of paper neatly folded separately in my shirt pocket and a favorite pen. </span><br />
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<span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif">You know, when opportunity strikes, I’m ready to doodle.</span><br />
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<small><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://actvra.in/4F8G" target="_blank">Social Media is best served with doodles and coffee</a> was originally published by the author on the Activerain Real Estate Network.</span></small><div class="blogger-post-footer">The Blackberry Chronicles
ARFCO MEDIA © 2023 an Audiorium Enterprise</div>René Fabrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00809415768440165212noreply@blogger.com0