As summer turns to fall, we enter a new season of school classes, sporting and recreation events, the wrap of construction projects… and the ramping up of political contests. It’s a time of change, and as such can be both exhiliarating and frustrating. Which brings me to roll out a few autumn 2012 cheers and jeers:
Diane Keener holds back the tears when she thinks about the change in front of her. She’s leaving behind her full-time job, but will miss the people who have meant so much to her over the last four decades.
Most Americans change jobs several times over their lives. But Keener, a North Bend resident, seems to have bucked that trend. This Friday, she retires after 41 years, nearly the entirety of her adult working life, at the Mount Si Transitional Heath Center.
“It doesn’t seem like 41 years,” she says. “The years have gone by so fast.”
The crucial moment for Ella Thompson came on the final hill climb. Her legs wanted to stop. But Ella’s willpower wouldn’t allow it.
“On the hill, especially, people want to stop really bad,” the Mount Si junior said. She was one of them.
“I just put my mind someplace else, tell my feet to keep going,” Thompson said. She’s tried mentally humming songs. But what really works is simply zoning out. Her mind is over her muscle.
The Mount Si distance squads met Bellevue and Lake Washington in their first league meet, Wednesday, Sept. 12, at Bellevue’s Kelsey Creek Park.
Trudy the dog keeps her eyes on the Harrison family’s flock. She noses in for a closer look at a big, white hen. The hen eyes her back, safe on the other side of a layer of chicken wire, then goes back to her business, patrolling a dirt-floored pen for food. Other hens take dust baths, cluck gently, or maintain their pecking order. Several keep their eyes on the nearby Harrisons, hauling in groceries from the car, hoping for a treat.
To dad Ryan Harrison, the best part of owning 11 hens in his Snoqualmie backyard is the entertainment value.
“Chicken TV,” he calls it. “You can sit out here and watch them all day long. They just do their thing.”
Ed Wilson grasps the club with both arms. Only one, his right, ends in a hand. His left arm links to a prosthetic, a red, white and blue-striped fork that fits around the club, giving Wilson added power and control. He drives the ball with practiced ease.
Wilson, a 21-year North Bend resident and competitive golfer, lost his left hand 18 years ago, after the packing unit of a recycling truck snagged his glove. The injury couldn’t keep him off the green, though.
“Sometimes, I think things are meant to be this way,” says Wilson.
He wasn’t in it for the glory. He didn’t even give me his full name. But the North Bend man—just Jim to me—who was moved by reports about the massive wildfire blazing in Central Washington, and dropped off a small pile of supplies as part of the growing donation effort, did what he did for good reasons. He acted out of basic humanity, and because he believes that what goes around, comes around.
Time and again, I and others at this newspaper heard similar stories from the folks in our Valley, and beyond, who stepped up over the last two weeks to help families affected by the Taylor Bridge wildfire in Kittitas County.
First one teen, then another steps onto the ladder, takes the scraper and starts cleaning 50-year-old gunk from the wooden interior of Messenger of Peace.
While some teens might drag their heels on household chores, these hands-on activities at the Northwest Railway Museum seem to draw in the dozen teenage participants in RailCamp Northwest, which recently visited the Snoqualmie heritage site.
Open to high-school-age boys and girls, the camp, organized by the National Railway Historical Society, has run for 15 years on the east coast, but made its first visit to the left coast earlier this month. Most participants were from back east, but several learned about it in the Northwest. So far, the camp has been a big success, counselors said.
Thin gouts of sand fly as the Caitlyn Maralack whacks ball after ball out of the bunker at Snoqualmie Ridge TPC.
Caitlyn is at home in the sand, just as she is on the green or the rough, or really, anywhere on a golf course.
“I’m working on all the parts of my game, putting it all together,” says Caitlyn. “This is the sport I’m going to stick to. It’s something I’m good at.”
Brother and sister Landen and Izzy Hearing were soaked but happy as the final parade car rolled past.
They were among a horde of children—and a few adults—who danced in the cooling spray of a local fire truck in the finale of the Festival at Mount Si Grand parade. This was the first parade ever for Landen, 9, and Izzy, 6.
“I like the small-town parade,” said mom Sharesa. “So far, so good.”
With construction on at Si View Park, the Festival saw some changes this year, but most popular events returned. The parade lasted nearly two hours, and the Festival still drew thousands to Si View Park.
When a hard decision needs to be made, should government come to you, or should you go to local government?
That’s one of the questions that’s come to my mind in recent weeks, as I’ve noticed what appears to be a trend: Local cities using a specialized tool to connect with their citizens.
This year, both the cities of Snoqualmie and North Bend turned to a private survey company to gauge local support for tough decisions. In Snoqualmie’s case, the firm, called EMC Research and Northwest Public Affairs, ran a telephone survey to gauge potential support for a levy.
He’s here every morning, and he keeps punctual office hours. A photo of him in office attire, complete with necktie, hangs by the door. From his perch in a comfy seat by the counter, he scopes out the customers as they enter, or takes an interested glance at the products that employees carry past. Sometimes, he naps on the job. You might think Sylar owns the place.
The black-and-white photo shows a row of men hefting fire axes and saws, smiling confidently as they open a new station. The 2005 image chronicles the Snoqualmie Fire Department of a different era—a time of fast growth in the city, when fire and police divisions were being built and staffed to handle a big new population.
Fast-forward seven years, and most of the men in the picture still work in Snoqualmie. But their jobs have changed. Their department is busier, but hasn’t grown in nearly a decade. Increasing needs are beginning to tell. A hiring freeze could thaw soon, though, as part of an operations levy that goes before city voters this fall.
There’s an amazing rate of change going on in the Valley. It’s apparent in the growth that’s happening, even amid a recession, in cities like North Bend and Snoqualmie. It’s apparent in people’s behavior, be it in how they handle their trash, deal with wildlife, help others, or even drive their cars. Life in our community is an experience in flux.
It struck me this week how Valley residents are being asked to change. It all started with the bears.