I grew up in the Air Force, moving every few years to exotic places like Washington D.C., Germany, and Glasgow, Montana. But I hail from Westward-Ho pioneer stock. Folks who left kith and kin and trees and pretty-ness, to settle a bunch of rocks and scrub oak. And to do battle with crickets, desert sun, and people who didn't like them a whole lot. It's easier to live now, thank you very much. When I can blog about stuff I don't have to do.
On the other hand, I did just have a pioneer experience of my own that left me sort of, you know, unsettled. Insecure. Completely freaked out.
My ancestors were very organized people. They came from England, Wales, and Scandinavia. (We won't mention my fabu firebrand Scotch/Irish ancestors, bless them. Although it might have taken organizational skills to live by the "If it moves, fight it and take back what it took!" credo.) The result of this organization is that the place I now live is extraordinary in the logic of its layout.
My forebears started out living where they were so hemmed in by trees and other flora that they could spend a year just clearing enough land to do the farming. However, life changed once my people trundled to the Wild West. Everything was right smack in the open. They could actually see the sun rise and the sun set–except when it dropped behind the mountains–because nothing was blocking their view. In fact, there were so few landmarks that it was a little disorienting, and the best way to make sure everyone could find everything was to build the cities and streets on a north/south east/west grid.
The result is that streets are crazypants wide and straight in my state. Everyone lives on a cross-section of north and east, south and west, or some other variation. And you can find anything and anyone without a map. All you have to do is get the address and key off of the city's Center street. It's easy. A little boring, but easy. I mean I can find 50 North 275 West a whole lot faster than 275 BobJohnson'sStupidDeadCow Road.
Well, I didn't realize how dependent I'd become on the grid system until I came out to Seattle to visit my brother. Trees! Grass! Water! OMYHEART! I forgot how much I missed actual breathing green nature! *sigh*
Until I had to drive in it.
Little bro decided that after 5 years of coming out here to sing, I needed to be able to find a few things and drive myself places. So when we had a pile of errands to run, he chivalrously offered me the key to his car. (It's actually a button, not a key. This is Seattle. The car is a hybrid. It's cool, but I can't tell when it's actually on because its so quiet, and I have wasted a ton of time restarting the already started engine. Like, multiple times.) Bro decided I was going to chauffeur for the day and then I'd be an expert. Awesome plan.
Except . . .
"Wait. Now weren't we just on this street?"
"No. That was the last street that curved the other way, back there. Remember? There was that big pine tree?"
"They're ALL big pine trees."
"Yes, but this was the one before the firehouse."
"What firehouse?"
"The firehouse with the light in front of it warning you to slow down."
"Everything has a light in front of it warning you to slow down. And I didn't see any firetrucks or big brick buildings."
"Well, it's made of wood. You know, to blend in. And the trucks are parked inside. We want to keep it beautiful."
("Mmhmm. Firehouse made of wood. What, so they can show the locals how to put out a fire when the wood firehouse burns down? WHERE'S THE ROCK?")
"Okay, see those trees hiding that house? There in front of Lake Washington? That's where you turn."
"Which trees? What house? What lake? I can't see anything! It all looks the same! Forest!"
"Well, you can always key off the sun . . . "
"WHAT. FREAKING. SUN? THEM ARE CLOUDS IN THAT THAR SKY!"
"Yeah, well. Um. You just get used to it. Turn here."
"You mean by the tree?"
Yeah. It got worse from there. And seriously? When it was time to go back home? I could have been in Saskatchewan for all I knew. And it took me about that long to find my way back. Seriously, if I have to go anywhere past the street my little brother lives on, I'm toast. Except I did memorize the way to the Gym. That's sort of critical. And it only works because once I get the hood of the car pointed in the right direction, I just have to go straight for 15 miles and I run right into it.
I tell you, I think I know why Washington is the home of Sasquatch. Because people get lost here AND NEVER GET OUT. Then they just go native and make their home in all the whacked-out nature that covers this place. If you can't beat 'em . . .
Right. As much as I like my comforting and sensible grid, I do love it here. And I'll be happy to see you the next time I come, Dear Seattle. But before I do, could you please, PLEASE, for the love of all that is anal retentive, leave me a trail of breadcrumbs from the airport? Bigfoot and I haven't been on speaking terms for generations.
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