Tonight Z said something about our "last 6 weeks in Seattle". "We have WAY more than 6 weeks." I said in the same tone of voice that I tell the children to "put that stick down" or "do not push me" or the voice I used to tell crack addicts to "please take a ten minute walk". "Alright 9 weeks" he said.
Anyway, I've been staying away from "Last Blah blah blah" but I'm ready now, friends... it's time for lasts. Then I'll get firsts. The other day, it randomly occurred to me that I'll be back east in time to spend my brother's birthday with him for the first time... probably in ten years. Probably. Maybe nine. This is good news. (P.s. I hope that brother stays put for his birthday, but it's ok if he doesn't because I've got lots more New England Septembers in store.)
I already had my last mothers' day and fathers' day that I didn't call because I woke up late and did a thing, then another thing, then I ate some dinner and it was way late back east, too late for calling. No more of that, which is cool. (Hey, I didn't miss them EVERY year, most years I totally made it... it just sucks when I didn't so I remembered it more.)
Anyway, last Saturday was my last Fremont Solstice parade. When we first moved here, Z and I lived in Fremont... an arty neighborhood which (suprise!) has gotten less cool and more commercial over the last 10-20 years. This neighborhood hosts a big fair and Solstice parade every summer and even in my 7 years here it's gotten WAY bigger. I've always gone alone, though in the past I've met up with good friends. This week I went alone (Z considered going, just because it was his last chance. On the other hand, he hates crowds and there was a Eurocup game going on, so he was much happier at home.) and was happy about that. I am so often on the verge of tears in big crowds.... (esp. since I stopped smoking, I'm kind of an emotional wreck... in a good, clean, celebratory way).
The hippie pagan selling prayer flags in English, the kids watching the bubble man, the guy who built a huge chair so that he could sit 15 feet above the crowd at the parade, one of my favorite coffee shacks all dolled up like a cabaret, everything made me cry a little bit.
As the naked cyclists swirled around (there was an awesome naked guy painted silver on a skateboard as silver surfer which was awesome) I was still looking for a spot. I passed a grown man talking to an older man (his father I think) saying "Some people never learned the value of wearing clothes, I guess". I found this fascinating on so many levels. Then I saw a big vinyl sign held aloft that said "GOD HAS GIVEN YOU OVER TO YOUR DEGRADING PASSIONS." I misread this as celebratory, and got all teary. Later, I saw that the guy had a megaphone and was trying to save people from themselves, and realized I'd had it wrong. I heard part of his rant "Like this little woman here. What do you call yourself young lady?"
Woman in wings: A fairy.
Man Trying to Save Us: A fairy. What fairies like this don't know is...
Nearbye man with a pink fedora and a lisp: There's nothing wrong being a fairy.
Random strangers in the crowd: Chuckle.
Woman in wings: Fairies Rule!
Two women in wings: FAIRIES RULE!
Man in pink fedora and women in wings and passersbye: FAIRIES RULE! FAIRIES RULE! FAIRIES RULE!
I have to say I can't quite imagine tinkerbell pumping her fist in the air the way they were, but it was lovely in its own way.I sat down for a second to write this stuff down, and the guy from the local paper took my picture.
Unfortunately, the guy asked me what I was writing, and I said "Something I overheard that I want to remember" and he captioned the picture "Kendra PeloJoaquis pauses to makes some notes on what she's heard people say as they walked by her." That Ms. PeloJoaquis sounds like a creepy character. Yuck! Fortunately, it's a picture of my lap, so I think I'm safe. Next big last... my last day working with my mentor.
2 comments:
You are a hoot my dear. A hoot!
My much older co-worker (one of our Chinese teachers) worked in Seattle when she lived there, for one year. I told her that you had attended this parade.
"Bring back any old memories Amy?" (I tend not to use the work "old" with Amy, as she is 30 years older than almost all of the other teachers in the school (25 years older than the oldest).
"No!" She said, in that 60-year-olds-shouldn't-have-to-speak-so-many-languages-to-so-many-people-in-one-morning way of hers.
"You're sister....and I...." (Amy always speaks like this. In each of our languages.) "lived...in....verydifferentSeattle's."
Ahhhh, Amy. She sets each sentence to her own pace.
Kendra, I....think....IpreferyourSeattle.
My children are wildly entertaining!
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