Sunday, September 21, 2014

resting place

Birds and The Boat, September 2014. © Artemis Celt
There's a boat at the lagoon, even though boats are not allowed on the lagoon according to the Shoreline Master Program. The boat looks comfortable, settled in, as though it belongs. The birds love it. 

I'd heard rumors of how the boat ended up there and decided to ask someone who knew, unequivocally, how it appeared. Here, verbatim, is the story.

"Sometime during the last century (not this one, the last one) a couple of hippies moved to PT in search of peace and love. They settled in on the hillside above Kah Tai Lagoon. Their first visitors were a couple from even further up the hill, who had arrived the year before. Turned out that they (the 2nd couple. no, the first couple. I mean the old timers, not the newcomers) had a venerable old wooden boat in their basement that needed a new home (they were not boat people). The very Boat. They all joined hands, sang a few rounds of Jambalaya, (or We Shall Overcome, or something) and moved the Boat to the driveway of couple number 2 (I mean the newcomers) where it served, upside down, for 225 years (that might be a misprint) as a cheap but worthy shelter for all manner of treasure and junk.
 
Time passed, the Battle of Kah Tai Lagoon was waged and won, dreams came and went, people were born and people died. Peace and love were found in moderation, fitting and sufficient for the times. The Boat endured, unaffected by all that.
 
When Ms Newcomer died, late in that century of which I speak, friends and acquaintances gathered on the hillside to eat and drink and celebrate. In a flash of inspiration, the entire party picked up The Boat, loaded with the spirit of Ms Newcomer, and carried it lovingly to the edge of the Lagoon, and pushed it from the shore, to find its resting place amongst the reeds. There is nothing more to tell."

2 comments:

  1. I'll accept everything except what we sang. Don't remember exactly, but it definitely wasn't "Jambalaya" or "We Shall Overcome" . . . .

    And au contraire, there's a lot more to tell, that never has been told.
    Some of it perhaps synthesized in the regular appearances of Ms. Newcomer and Ms. Oldtimer at City Council and Planning Commission meetings, sitting in the front row, taking notes (and, in the cae of Ms. Newcomer, constantly muttering under her breath, "Bulls**t") -- all the while, busily knitting ("They're making shrouds for us, just like Madame Defarge").

    And in all the histories, I've never once seen the name of Rick Aramburu, our feisty Seattle lawyer, whose noble efforts should never be forgotten -- as well as the fact that he forgave us the last $3000 of our enormous legal debt.

    As for the boat, I think about it often. Kah Tai is a beautiful place, but like Wallace Stevens' jar, the boat "takes dominion everywhere". For me, at least

    Ah well -- words in the wind.

    --The Oldtimer

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  2. maybe Yellow Submarine?

    "And au contraire, there's a lot more to tell, that never has been told".

    too true, and thanks for the image of the Knitting Furies. Power trembled under their gaze, and nary a stitch did they drop.

    And all of Power's little children loved them in their clown suits, peddling baloons along the streets during Rhododendron Parade. Little did the innocent kiddies know they were Saving Kah Tai with their quarters.

    As for Aramburu - just a glimpse: 5'4", 120lbs, heart of green gold and nerves of steel, he strode into the courtroom with his fresh-faced assistant to challenge Safeway and the boys, and hung his white cowboy hat on the hatrack inside the door (next to the black fedoras of Safeway's Bogle & Gates hacks) as if he owned the place. In the following 15 years, he never wavered in his defense of Kah Tai, winning 3 out of 4 for the good guys.

    so much more to tell....
    (we have to stop meeting like this)

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