1. What a day! I'll begin by filling in a blank from yesterday. When I wrote about spending the late afternoon with Hugh and Carol, I was so preoccupied and excited about the superb snacks Carol prepared I forgot to write that Hugh picked me up at the motel and then we stopped at Jimi Hendrix's gravesite and memorial at Greenwood Memorial Park. We walked to the site, admired its purple haze theme, the bronze guitar, replete with picks many mourners have place behind the guitar's "strings", and the other gravestones for members of Jimi Hendrix's family.
So, that was yesterday.
Today, Hugh picked me up at the motel around 9:30 and we buzzed up to Bellevue for breakfast at the Pumphouse Bar and Grill. We continued the serious and most enjoyable yakking we engaged in yesterday. I enjoyed my eggs, potatoes, and toast and decided to do something I hadn't done for years. I drank a couple bottles of Budweiser with breakfast. I don't want to make a habit of it, but those two beer, that breakfast, and the great conversation with Hugh really hit the spot.
2. We wrapped up breakfast and Hugh drove me to a Taco Time parking lot on 45th in Wallingford where I met Mark Cutshall, one of my very best friends from the Whitworth days and well beyond. (A picture of us taken today is at the end of this post.) Hugh met Mark, Hugh and I bade each other farewell, and I tried to express my gratitude for the great time Hugh and I spent together yesterday and this morning.
I piled into Mark's rig and we made our way down to Voula's Offshore Cafe, an aged, no-frills diner on the margins of the University District. I had kept my order small at the Pumphouse and left myself room for a delicious order of a biscuits and gravy and scrambled eggs and cup after cup of coffee.
Mark and I last saw each other in 2013 in Newport, Oregon and we had a lot of catching up to do about church, our days at Whitworth, our families, who's died, who's still alive, Mark's role as a spiritual director, and countless other things.
We yakked until the guys working at Voula's brought out the mops and began to spiff up the place, closed it up, and prepared for Sunday's customers.
Mark and I left, drove to a peaceful spot near water, yakked some more, and then he drove me to Bill and Diane's home. Bill came out, greeted us, met Mark, and we joked about rope and dope and blasting caps, a line from Bill's superb song, "On My Lips".
3. I settled comfortably into Bill and Diane's living room and the three of us launched into a superb session of first-rate yakkin'. At one point, Bill poured me a wee dram of Jameson's Irish Whiskey. We yakked about the past, mutual friends, music, retirement, and a host of other subjects.
Eventually, we sat down at the dinner table. Diane had made a splendid spicy multi-vegetable soup and warmed up a loaf of crusty bread enhanced with rosemary and we enjoyed a simple and superb dinner together.
After dinner, we continued to yak in the living room and conversation turned toward Richard Thompson and the folk rock movement in England over fifty years ago. We listened to songs by Fairport Convention, Richard Thompson, Richard and Linda Thompson, Steeleye Span, The Albion Band -- and maybe other artists. It was thrilling to listen to such beautiful and innovative music, to hear such superb playing and listen to such thrilling vocals and tight harmonies.
It was starting to get a little bit late.
Bill gave me a tour of the upstairs, of his library/studio, the home of The Treehouse Concerts and Poetry Break.
And, then, most generously, after I bade Diane farewell, Bill drove me all the way to my motel in Renton, a good distance away.
Bill and I embraced, thanked each other for a great day, and we told each other we'd see one another on ZOOM on Sunday.
And my most enjoyable, relaxed, stimulating, easy, comfortable, awesome day came to a close.
No comments:
Post a Comment