You are currently browsing the tag archive for the 'Seattle' tag.
It’s been raining for about 24-hours straight and I suddenly feel like I’m back in Seattle on some lazy morning when Alex and I would go out for breakfast and noodle around the Market or go to a movie. Ah, all the movies….
I started craving Greg Brown’s song All Day Rain. Greg actually lives a few blocks over, and I’ve been listening to his music most of my life, but it meant the most to me when I was in Seattle and his songs about thunderstorms and little Iowa towns brought me home. They made me ache. We played his song “This Band of Gold” at our wedding and bought most of his CDs together.
Alex put all of the music he wanted on his iPod before he took off. “You can have the CDs,” he told me. I have no idea if he copied any of the Greg Brown. But now I have the words and the memories. I love this music. I don’t want to get rid of it, but god, it makes my heart ache with a melancholy for what was and a longing … to be held, to be cared about, to not be alone.
I’m cleaning my kitchen pantry as I listen. The flour moths have returned with a vengeance and I decided to be proactive. There’s laundry going in both machines, and muffins in the oven. But my heart is full of rain.
I remember sitting with Alex on a windy day–a day so windy that it took down a major Interstate bridge in Seattle –as we watched the 1992 election results on our tiny black and white TV. Neighbors from our building joined us as the day moved toward night. None of us could believe it. We were drunk on surprise.
We’d all grown up with Reagan and then spooky Bush the Elder. Some of my earliest memories were of Watergate. I was the only kid in my first grade class who voted for McGovern. With the exception of the four-year blink known as Jimmy Carter, none of us had known a Democratic president. So all day, the wind howling, the electricity flickering, and lots of weather announcements trailing along the bottom of the TV screen, we watched the results coming in from across the country. It was pre-Internet. Pre-24-hour cable. Pre-red and blue. It was just the numbers and the three anchors. At the end of the day, Bill Clinton trumped it all, and our neighbor uncovered a bottle of champagne from his vegetable crisper. Ebullience never tasted so good.
Like our marriage, a lot has happened since then, much of it disheartening. But I’m finding it relieving to know that even as we grow impatient with each other over the minutiae of divorce, Alex sends me stuff like Sarah Silverman’s Schlep campaign. Or that when his absentee ballot showed up at the house the other day and the Dems called to make sure it was there, I a) put it in a safe place, and b) called to tell Alex about it. “Fill it out! Fill it out!” I cheered encouragingly into his cell phone. It was practically like being in love again – resolutely together.
In other words, through thick and thin, sickness and health, we’re still in the same camp. I’m not sure what we’ll talk about after the campaign. At the moment, McCain’s shenanigans and Palin’s every word are the backbone of our small talk–if you can call it small talk when two people are nearly shouting their disgruntlement and registering loud guffaws at the absurdity of it all.
Bottom line, I’d remarry Alex all over again rather than have Sarah Palin as president. Really. I’m sure of that.
p.s. If you’re lurking out there, leave a comment. A little camaraderie would be nice! 
