Second Chances in Seattle

So I took the photo you see above while awaiting to finish what would be my last night in Oregon. This may be temporary, it may be permanent, only time will tell. I have had some incredible adventures and disappointments while living here. All of those moments are memories now as I am embark on a new chapter within this wild ride of life that I have had the opportunity to live.

I have met some absolutely incredible people during my time in Oregon. Many of them are now part of my Tribe; for those unaware of the ‘Tribe’ these are the people whom I have come to know as close colleagues and friends whom I feel comfortable sharing the intimate details of my life with. Some of the Tribe I have met in person, others I haven’t, at least not yet. Regardless, they have truly had my back all the through these past two tumultuous years.

One of the most impactful aspects of these past years is the experience of living in small towns. I’m not referring to small towns as in a community of just a few hundred people. I’m instead referring to the type of community where I originally grew up.

All the neighborhood children congregated together and as a parent you had no fear about your children engaging in, less than savory activities which may draw attention. This was because the neighbors not only knew the children, they had the work phone numbers of the parents, and had no issues calling your parents at work to alert them of any indiscretion.

We knew one another and shared with another, not because we had too. We wanted to, it was our community. One of the take aways was a simple and in my opinion a very elegant gesture. Someone in the neighborhood would bake cookies or a supper and they would make more than their family needed. Then they would bring a neighbor some of this food.

Now that’s just being neighborly and I get that, but what was interesting to me is this. The dish that the food was delivered in wasn’t typical of today. It was often delivered in glassware and sometimes glassware that was a family heirloom passed on for multiple generations. That was sharing not only food, but a profound amount of trust. Beyond that, I was raised that you NEVER return a dish empty. Even when you borrowed a dish from a neighbor for say a work meeting or a soccer practice. You returned that dish with some sort of food fare in it as a sign of respect.

Leaving that community and venturing out onto my own still within the same state. I quickly learned somewhere along the line, my world and it’s people grew less and less respectful of one another. It was as if somehow being spat out of a uterus in a bloody mess meant most of the world (especially in California) owed you everything for your incredible survival tactics.

Somewhere in my quadragenarian years, I had an opportunity to escape, not only California but the entire country of the United States. I jumped at the chance without hesitation. As you’ve read previously here  things didn’t go as  planned. While I was in Canada I discovered again that small community mind set and thoroughly enjoyed it. To place this into perspective I will share this.

There was a specific ‘incident’ which I was involved in where the RCMP was called to intervene. I was outside of my then new apartment and had only greeted the neighbors up until that point. I was outside in my stocking feet with a backpack. My neighbor was pulling out of their parking space to leave and saw me. He stopped beside me and said

“Hey man, if you need to talk, I am right upstairs. I don’t know what happened but if you need to, come on up.”

Later on I did eventually become friends with that neighbor and am still friends with them today albeit virtually. When I came back to the United States I was fearful that I would never have that small town experience again. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Granted there were or are some bad aspects of the Oregon community where I lived as I have written of here but for the most part it was very similar to my time in the Great White North.

For the very first time in my adult life I was literally on my own without a safety net and I had nothing. To put this into perspective, one night after work I went to South Beach Market which was right next to my apartment and spent my last $1.50 on a can of chili. I grabbed a paper plate from the cupboard and opened the cutlery drawer, retrieved a spoon, and only then discovered

I had no can opener

For weeks up until that moment I had been surviving on microwaveable instant noodles which could be cooked in their own packaging. Not being one to give up, I took a butter knife and smashed the knife through the can repeatedly using the countertop for a hammer. I eventually got the chili out of the can and I have to say

To this day, that was the best can of chili I’ve ever eaten.

I began rebuilding a semblance of a life as a bachelor. Then the company I was employed with closed. You can read that fun story here. I got a new job, then met a woman who would give to me the best piece of wisdom I could hope for.

You make the choice of just surviving and living

As we got to know one another she realized that my entire adult existence was predicated on just surviving from one day to the next. Living paycheck to paycheck would be an understatement. My then current job while great for me or so I thought was literally only paying the bills. I had no way to save for anything much less any kind of retirement. She offered me a second chance at a real life. One where I could not only survive, but one where I could prepare a future for myself. I took the chance and moved from Oregon to a town near Seattle Washington.

Second Chance in Seattle

I think it’s day two since I arrived and I have a ‘real’ job interview tomorrow.

Real jobs are the reality of any writer

I felt pretty confident after my interview. Hope and I agreed prior to my arrival here that after working literally seven days a week for months at my prior job, it would be in my best interest to take a break from working and allow myself to recuperate. Part of this process involved me going out and about in the town and exploring my new community.

I did just that and while I enjoyed the greenspace that was available, I was completely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people here in this town. Think of it like this.

My Dad was born in a log cabin literally hand hewn and constructed by his grandfather. Growing up he could see daylight coming through the walls. No electricity, no indoor plumbing, and the animals you kept were not pets they were your food source. Except for the dogs which were used to hunt various game animals. Everywhere he went, he was barefoot because his family couldn’t afford shoes. The nearest neighbor was no less than ten miles away, and ‘town’ was twenty to thirty miles away and consisted of maybe a maximum of one thousand people if that.

Take this ‘country boy’ and drop him in the middle of Times Square New York on New Year’s Eve. That’s about how I felt.

Shortly after arriving I had a random urge to call my best friend of twenty plus years who I’d not spoken with personally in years. I think we exchanged emails and text messages but not taken the opportunity to actually communicate over the phone. In speaking with him he gave me some much needed perspective. I told him of my recent adventures and such as well as the feeling of being overwhelmed by the amount of people. He quickly reminded me of where I had come from originally and shared some facts about Seattle, it happens to be his favorite city. He was able to put things into perspective for me.

With new vigor I again went exploring, this time with a completely different attitude.

“Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” Charles R. Swindoll

I admit, my attitude sucked because I was reacting to that ten percent. When I took that in stride, and made the choice to react in different manner. Things changed for me. I still saw the crowds, concrete and steel, cars, and all the rest of it. Adjusting my reactions to life, I began to meet nice people, incredible architecture,  and the best part of it all.

I’ve begun to live instead of survive.

In closing, some people have asked me

“Why do you write so ‘openly’?”

My honest answer, is that not only is this my catharsis, but maybe, just maybe someone out there will read my work and see a bit of themselves within it. Maybe they will see something here they can identify with and enjoy the fact that someone, somewhere has had a similar experience(s) and take from it some encouragement.