From General Custer to Wonder-fly-boy

Tuesday night with the Johansson's in La Conner
   Tuesday night was our turn to visit Bobbie and Brent Johansson in their neck of the woods, La Conner.
   For YEARS Bobbie and I were fellow English teachers. When she retired in 2000, she did exactly what I never suspected her to do: she became an RV vagabond. They sold their home, bought a big truck and a fifth-wheel trailer, and never looked back. Since then, they've been all over the country in their tricked-out,  air-conditioned 38' RV.
    Lucky for us, one of their favorite oases is La Conner's heavily-forested Thousand Trails RV Park, a mere fifteen minutes from our home. 
   We had a great supper at La Conner Seafood and Prime Rib,
and were waited on by a delightfully goofy waitress who really owns her own organic deli in Sedro-Wooley, the Hottie Tottie, which was named before she bought it. She regaled us with stories of her opening day, when she thought she could do it all by herself. Now she has employees.
   What did we learn over dinner? Mt. Baker Winery is really in the flatter-lands of southeastern Washington. Gen. Custer's army had single-shot rifles, while the Indians had repeat-firing rifles, or something like that. (I forgot to take notes.) The Tetons could just as easily have been named Las Melones.
   PS - We discovered later that an even better place to dine in La Conner is Seeds. Alas.

Wednesday morning at Naval Air Station Whidbey Island

  Far too early the next morning, we headed out with a group of Anacortesans for a tour of top-ranked NAS Whidbey Island in Oak Harbor.
   Before I describe our trip, I'd like to say that Whidbey Island is a long, bucolic island situated north of Seattle and east of Vancouver Island. By its nature, it lures artists, writers, dreamers, seafarers, and organic farms. 
   Plunged in the northern one-third of all this beauty is a huge naval air station and the city, Oak Harbor, that supports it. 

    Being a military town, Oak Harbor differs markedly from the rest of the island, not so much for its bellicosity, but because, I think, people are constantly leaving, or they're waiting for someone to come home safely from war or from a practice flight mission. Missing are the lovely gardens, the imaginative shops and eateries, and all the other things creative people do to enhance their existence. 
   Anyway, jet jockey Lt. Dave "Wonder" Brennan led us through VAQ 133's hangar to view EA-6B Prowler jet repairs and out on the tarmac where electronic jamming jets stood at the ready. He explained how everyone lines up and walks the tarmac, picking up stones or whatever could be sucked into the jet engines, otherwise known as FOD (foreign object damage). Wonder answered plenty of our questions, like why they're so loud when they fly over Fidalgo Island, how he got his moniker, and how the jets get to Iraq and Afghanistan. (Duh, they fly them! It takes seven hours, and they refuel mid-air through their probosces [see pic.] over the East Coast and twice over Europe.)
   We learned that the jets usually only bother one side of Fidalgo Island or the other, depending on the weather and wind patterns. Happily, the air station's getting some new, quieter jets. We also learned Wonder got his moniker because, out on the tarmac, his plane clipped a parked parts truck that looked remarkably like a (Wonder??) bread truck. Monikers, he explained, are meant to "bust your chops."
   Another highlight was to meet Fidalgo Island's resident hero, Lt. Commander Ariel Klein (USNA '97, Beat Army!), to whom Davy personally wrote in late spring.
   Then we got a new guide, Lt. Commander Brightner, who was quite informative as we toured SAR (Search and Rescue), which he insisted did NOT bother Fidalgo with a bunch of noise.
   Hands down, SAR has the best wall-size relief map I've ever seen. It was like three inches deep, so you can really compare the state's extreme elevations. Which is really important since this SAR unit, when not saving people from the sea, saves a lot of people from mountain tops, which I gather is an intense trick to accomplish in Washington's jagged ranges. They do this at no cost to the victim. God bless them! Brightner told us SAR was ironically far more successful saving people from mountains than from boating accidents because, try as they might, some kayaker or sailboat always seemed to get to the victim first. LOL!
   LCDR Brightner really stole my heart when he said the best thing he ever did in the service was helping survivors of Indonesia's Christmas Day tsunami while he was stationed in Guam.
   Our tour ended with a yummy lunch in the Officers Club. 

A little day music

   Since our last entry, our noses have been snug to the grindstone preparing for winter (a.k.a. the end of summer). It's already raining, which is good, because we can't get the stupid sprinklers working, and bad, because the stucco needs fixing, and therefore the house needs repainting and all that implies. Good night!  
   But we've had fun too!
   Two weekends ago we had a splendid time with Dan and Marilyn Wilshin (Dave's brother) in Issaquah and on Lake Washington in their boat.  They're repainting their house too, so we spent a lot of time searching for color inspirations along the lake's shoreline, which is a lot like mansion-spotting in Newport Harbor (yeah, yeah, we passed Bill Gates's compound), except there are boat houses and a provable absence of palm trees.

click to enlarge

   This last weekend we made a two-dayer of the 49th Annual Anacortes Arts Festival in which they closed down Commercial Ave. from 12th St. all the way north to the port.
   We've happily discovered that Anacortesans are a bunch of party animals who don't blink at the chance to shut down part of their main drag and invite thousands of people to come party with them for a weekend. Typically, every few blocks there'll be a band playing and folks out dancing, some with each other, some soloing it. Even the wheel-chair bound get out and boogie. One whole block is devoted to food, from ribs to crepes, and of course salmon, salmon, salmon. And as far as the eye can see there are well-behaved dogs, even though the party planners keep insisting people not bring their pups.  
   On Friday we visited the juried show in the Port of Anacortes Warehouse Transit Shed, which is a crazy-smart venue because you can see and hear the surf breaking under the floorboards, while also listening to Corbin Keep and Mel Watson on the cello and guitar. Listen!!
   Upon entering the warehouse, we were given a ballot because there would be a prize for the popular favorite, which I'm guessing they thought might be different from the jury's (headed by Esther Luttikhuizen of 4Culture).
   Here's how we voted:
    I liked Rex Silvernail (loved his use of prehistoric joinery to express imagined organics), with Michael Berman's Open Oceans being a close second (his huge, oceanic photographs lack a middle ground, which unsettled my physical sense of balance, as it should have). 
    David liked Berman too, but ultimately voted for Peregrine O'Gormley.
   There were, of course, other fabulous pieces, like Natalie Niblack's mindscapes, Kathryn Glowen's silk ties on canvas (Pollock tamed!), and Carol Milne's knit glass. 

   Click here to see all 93 entries.
   With time to spare, we headed south on Commercial Ave. to catch the twelve blocks of art, craft, and food vendors. What a hoot! Our favorites:
   Anchor Art Space (as usual), which is Anacortes's only contemporary-art gallery. We took time to watch a Julia Oldham video. (Here are other Julia videos for your viewing pleasure.)
   Red Oak Glass's pendant lights. I'm putting this on my Christmas list. Gotta have one in the entry way.
   Paddy McNeely's Asian-inspired, black-glazed porcelin pieces.
   Stan O'Neil's hand-blown plates.
   On Sunday we went back to the festival to listen to music with our friends Carl Bergan and Linda Page. We hit the warehouse first to hear fabulous pan-piper Paul Nyenhuis, who, alas, records nothing he plays, which is too darned bad for the world, because his music is heavenly. And so are his pipes, which he makes himself and decks with swans, eagles, ducks, you name it. Alas.
   In the Majestic Inn's courtyard, we heard the jazz trio Trish Hans and Phil, who turned out to be quite entertaining and lovely to the ears. Trish looks like a princess, but for the music, she'll do anything with her voice: whistle, trombone (I kid you not), and cheek-thump. What a scream! For some of their new oldies, listen here and here.
   Next, at the main stage, we heard Little Bill and the Blue Notes (yeah, that Little Bill) followed by The Bad Apples, a (mostly) girl band who are teachers hailing from Bellingham. They even looked like teachers! Funny how some things change, and some things never do. 

   Tonight we're off to La Conner to have dinner with Brent and Bobbie Johanson, whom I taught with for years. More on that later!