1. We members of the Westminster Basement Study Group have been jumping on the Zoom machine every two weeks for nearly two years. Until April, 2022, I was present for every Zoom meeting, but because of other engagements in Eugene in early April and because of family dinner on Easter, I missed the last two meetings.
It was fun to be back in conversation with Bill, Diane, and Bridgit today. We began to dream out loud about the possibility of seeing each other face to face when I travel to Seattle toward the end of the month. (Soon I'll be emailing other friends to see about the possibility of meeting up.) In addition, Diane told us about how Bill and she have subscribed to the streaming service, National Theater at Home, and how much they enjoyed watching a theater performance of Simon Wood's two character play, Hansard, featuring Lindsay Duncan and Alex Jennings. While writing this paragraph, I took a break and watched a scene from the movie, Birdman, featuring Lindsay Duncan as a ruthless theater critic (Tabitha) and Michael Keaton (Riggan), an actor in superhero movies whose career has stagnated. It's a brilliant scene and Lindsay Duncan is devastating in it, making me really want to see her play the wife of a Tory MP in Hansard.
2. For over fifty years, the Knights of Columbus of St. Rita's Catholic Church in Kellogg have put on a Mostaccioli Feed (or Dinner). Almost every year, the dinner has been served in the St. Rita's parish hall. For Family Dinner, Carol, Christy, Debbie, Paul, and I took a week off of cooking for each other and attended the Mostaccioli Feed.
I love Silver Valley feeds. I used to love the Sunnyside and Silver King Elementary School Chili Feeds. At church, we had an annual Oyster Stew Feed. The Elks is a great supporter of feeds: the Crab Feed, a Spaghetti Feed, a Pork and Apple Feed, and, heck, I might be missing some.
Well, this Mostaccioli Feed is a stellar event. Outside the parish hall, men of the Knights of Columbus boil the mostaccioli pasta in huge pots over outdoor burners. Inside, after paying just 10 bucks for a plate of food, we grabbed a paper plate and plastic cutlery and lined up to be served a lettuce salad, garlic bread, a hill of mostaccioli (it's like penne, but with ridges), a couple of meatballs, and red pasta sauce. At an adjacent table, we could grab a glass of Carlo Rossi Chianti. The parish hall tables at red checkered tablecloths and men circled around the room offering wine refills, cups of coffee, and cups of half vanilla ice cream/half orange sherbert for dessert.
I was telling Debbie afterward that when we attended Matt's Celebration of Life in Orofino, what I saw in the VFW Hall was a room full of stories.
That was even more true at St. Rita's today. In seeing face after longtime familiar face, whether it was former teachers, a former across the street neighbor from the early 1960s, high school friends, longtime, family friends, or people I see at the Inland Lounge, I saw countless stories this afternoon and it was dizzying.
I enjoyed our dinner a lot, not only for the food, but to also being in the company of so many people I've either known or known of for many decades.
It was a bit like having the whole of my Silver Valley life flashing before my eyes.
3. Back home, more of the past rushed forward. Today was the day before the 50th anniversary of the Sunshine Mine Fire. A memorial will be held at the Mine Fire Memorial tomorrow, May 2. Debbie and I both had read Diane Trecker's newsletter essay detailing the what happened the day the fire broke out, May 2, 1972, and in the ten days that followed. My memories, thoughts, and feelings about the Sunshine Mine Fire are, and always have been, jumbled, difficult to articulate, and, for the most part, private. My insides shook as Debbie and I talked about the fire. Inevitably, my experience of being nearly killed by toxic dust and gas that suddenly came in on Stan and me in a roaster at the Zinc Plant a year later came back to me. It always does when I take in accounts spoken or written by the Sunshine Mine fire survivors or when I talk about May 2, 1972.
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