Tag: streets

Lament

I recognize this state, have been there.

Last summer on Saturday Mornings I drove east on Columbia, then North on 3rd, She kneels just a bit back from the curb of the street.  Arms at her side, she rocks back and forth as she balls, completely, her tears compete with the drops of rain around her.  It is a cry of hopeless sadness, pain.  Her eyes wide, her arms loose, her gaze at nothing in front of her.  Her sobs are from what’s behind her that does not leave her.

I recognize this state, have been there.

In college, finals week.

Preoccupied with everything, paying no attention to the moment, I arrived at home, opened my car door and did not notice my cat trying to enter my car as I slammed the door.

It took her minutes to die.

I was completely, utterly destroyed.

My knees were also on the sidewalk wailing.

Her pain echoes across the worst of memories and possibilities.

I drive by her slowly, carefully, painfully, my window is open, the smell of salt water, seagulls cawing.

Diesel engine hum.

45 mins later, I drive by going the opposite direction.  She is still there, tears have not stopped.

Behind her now, a middle aged man in a wheel chair eats a hot dog.

This Saturday, another woman, small in stature, reddish tone to her skin, drops her cigarette places her bottle of Dom Perignon on the ground.  I notice that its about one fourth full of water.

She steps on the bus, screams Fucker!! Sits down rings the bell. I stop at the next stop. She does not get off.  I pull forward, she rings the bell and yells Stop!  I pull into the next stop, she ignores where we are at.

I continue my route.

She starts to yell the words from “Always and Forever”

She uses one note. Monotone.

She is angry. Yells it louder.

Then cries, leans her head on the window.

Cusses “Asshole”.

I arrive at Denny and 7th.

She steps off the bus, leans on a bench.

She sobs.

I continue on my route.

Behind her a couple are walking their dog, phones to their ears

Hesitate as the dog sniffs from a safe distance.

A lament or lamentation is a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.

Route 5/21

The Geography of the greater Seattle area is responsible for both our traffic and the beauty of the area

The Geography of the greater Seattle area is responsible for both our traffic and the beauty of the area.  On the West side of Seattle is Puget Sound, the East, lake Washington, the two are tied together by lake Union, the 3 bodies of water started out as separate,  but the monetary value that could be realized by attaching the three was apparent, so the Ballard locks were constructed in 1916, which now allows ships and boats to move from Lake Washington, through Lake Union then out to the Puget Sound.  3 bridges cross the North/South bound traffic, those are the I-5 bridge, the Freemont Bridge, and the Ballard Bridge.  The Last two bridges raise to allow taller boats to go through. 

Mountain ranges are the Olympics to the West, the Cascades to the East. Mt Rainier is in view except on the cloudiest of days, Mt Baker can be seen from many areas of Seattle. 

Seattle’s traffic mostly travels north and south, to go east west is done on either of two floating bridges, north is the 520 bridge, the I-90 bridge is on the south side of Lake Washington. 

Seattle struggled to make these roads happen, most of our 100 plus years our roads have been under construction and development…… as much as we may cuss at our world class traffic, we also praise our views, I drive daily, the views never get old.

I drive a bunch of different routes during my week, entering now my 2nd year at Metro, I have a few favorites, route 5/21 is my first route, and currently my favorite.  I like it for many reasons, one, is that is got the right balance of crazies and commuters, Students and Elderly, family and singles.  You can see a lot of different people during a “run” which goes from Shoreline Community College then goes into Downtown Seattle and becomes the 21, then out to West Seattle/Burien.

Often, I start in Westwood Village, a shopping center in Burien.  It usually starts with a few elderly women who work at a Hospital nearby, and a homeless person or two, who like this route because of its length, they can catch a good sleep for an hour and a half and be warm, or dry, or at least out of the weather.

I turn a couple of corners and head North up 35th Ave, which drives through a long neighborhood of small Arts and Crafts homes, sidewalks that hold grass and leafy trees.  I drop the Hospital workers off at the crest of the hill, the view of the city is in the right side of my windshield.  Puget sound is in the foreground, our Port of Seattle there through our front door. Some mornings the cranes are busy unloading and loading ships.  A Totem Pole that was once stolen in broad daylight, restored by the criminal, then returned…… (Seattle has all kinds of odd stories).

 I go on down the hill, the street is now called Avalon, losing my view to tall condo buildings on both sides, the street gets a bit dark for most of the year. The Buildings grab as much view as they can in all directions, I head down to the West Seattle bridge and pick up a few people at a Park and Ride under the bridge, as I continue onto the entry for the bridge and head back up into the light, I get to the crest of the bridge, on my left is a view of Puget Sound to Canada, on my right is Mt Rainier.  The West Seattle Bridge is tall, you’re up there high, you feel your looking down at the city, this is where Puget Sound feeds the Duwamish River as it travels south towards Mt Rainier. Mornings, when the light is just right, you can see the last remains of a few stars, and the glimmer of the snow on the mountain, you took to your left and the windows on the buildings are bright on the back side and are black on the Sound side.

You see ships heading in and out to sea, ferries taking commuters to work, planes heading in and out of Sea Tac, helicopters watching traffic, cars finding places in line.  I slow down a bit and take it all in before I pull off the bridge, head up 1st ave where commercial area services the Port of Seattle, past Starbucks headquarters, Showbox Sodo,  ( many of Seattle’s musical legends and the worlds, have played at the showbox ) towards the Stadiums,  take a right, drop off a couple people at Occidental and Edgar Martinez way, Edgar Martinez was a Mariner won the hearts of Seattleites enough to have a street named after him, a statue of Ken Griffy Jr. poses by the front door of our Ball Park. The size of the Stadiums is stunning, the retractable roof hangs over train tracks that go from Canada, then across the US. The stadium is amazing up close, far away and from the inside.  Truly something to see.

 Then I head to fourth, take a left, to the backside of Seahawk Stadium then up 3rd through downtown. You can travel anytime through downtown and take in a part of the parade, going past Yesler there is a few missions, shelters, state housing and parks where street people stay, you drop off legal types at the county and federal buildings, you then head up towards the finance district, then through the retail area. Through Bell town, another great neighborhood of condos, apts, restaurants nightclubs and retail, I take a right on Bell street, then head on to Aurora past lake union facing condos that watch Sea Planes, sailboats, houseboats. To the left is the Olympic Mountains that rise over the sound. Then over to Freemont,  Freemont is largely an apartment neighborhood with some beautiful old Arts and Crafts homes, was once the Art District of Seattle and called itself the Center of the Universe…… and, as much fun as they have there with their quirky restaurants and bars, shops, street art, statues, parades, festivals and Sunday market, they have a claim on that motto. 

I travel up the hill past Freemont, past our Zoo, I often drop families, grandparents, grandchildren, couples and some workers there.  I head North through Greenwood, which is where there are a lot of Bicyclists, bicyclists are big in Seattle and now with electric motor capacity, it’s more difficult to gauge their speed as they ride from behind and want to pass when you stop. Many are commuters or Moms and Dads with kids sitting in the storage bay of the bike.  I continue north through Broadview, which is almost all neighborhood and a few convenience stores, then end at Shoreline Community College. Which is surrounded by groves of pines.

Usually when I arrive, I’m a couple minutes behind schedule, I drop off some students, a couple of homeless that I might have to wake.  This route has a lot of stops  a lot to see and a lot of traffic, I get about a 20 min layover to catch my breath, relax a bit before I head back.    

The Blend

You can be anonymous here on the streets. People enter and leave the streets through Doors that open and close on buildings, cars and buses, reflections on windows trace their paths then blend to the others.

You can be anonymous here on the streets. People enter and leave the streets through Doors that open and close on buildings, cars and buses, reflections on windows trace their paths then blend to the others.  Telephones to their ears people are stretched between two places.  Sounds of engines, sirens, voices, smells of weed, popping corn, meat being cooked, garlic, coffee, surround the colors of  blurring vehicles, advertising, traffic lights, so much can distract and detach others from you, your presence no matter how you look, smell, or sound becomes subtle here, your usual impact, then retraction or compassion from others dissipates and you are accepted as part of the background. This is where you can be part of the parade, normal, unseen unaffected. 

I watch people, over time I see some enter the streets on what might be their first week or so, then begin to become street people, they change, its unavoidable.

A young woman maybe 20 something walks by with her sleeping bag, pillow rolled and wrapped with a bungee, bags and large purse is hanging from her arms. She say’s “pardon me” as she steps through the crowd.  She is attractive with her clear skin, long brown hair, her eyes are kind, I see one red mark on her forearm, and I hope the best for her.

I’m approached by a man who has been on the streets for what looks like decades, I have seen him before, long hair matted into filth and litter ridden dreadlocks, splotchy beard, long black overcoat over a torn and dirty t shirt.  He wears black sweatpants under his jeans that are at his ankles, tennis shoes, one blue, one somewhat white, no socks.  He mumbles incoherently but I keep an eye lock with him, I look for someone in there and I hope I can see him.  He mumbles, I wonder if he still has the ability to speak English, then he tells me “you fucking smell, your gross”.  “I look down at my belly and I say, yea, I have let myself go a bit” “You need to get a job” he tells me then stumbles off.

The following week I see the girl walk up the street asking for money, she has her sleeping bag over her shoulder, no pillow no other bags, just her purse. More marks on her arm and she stumbles on the building side of the crowd.

A young black man I have been watching, he attracted my attention because he wears a scarf in all weather, he is large, over 6’2” and closing in on 350lbs. He has an unkept afro, blue jean shorts, light jacket and red tee shirt, as he walks by I can see he has tumors that look like intestines hanging from his neck. His legs and arms have medical patches and there are red blotches on his skin.  He walks by, his eyes focused on something far ahead.  Several weeks go by and I am driving in the morning, I arrive at 3rd and Pike.  He is in a wheelchair now, I lower the ramp and bring him on, his smell is overwhelming, it’s not just body odor, his skin is rotting.  He wears the same scarf where the tumors now hang down farther, his coat is gone and his shirt is filthy  and torn. He has a video game in his hands and he’s bright, friendly, kid like with a huge smile as he says “damn, almost had it” ( to no one in particular)  I strap in his chair and see his legs now are bloated, red, painful looking, and the smell is taking over, I hold my breath and worry about the other passengers,  a woman sitting behind him discretely opens her purse and quietly sprays him with a very nice perfume. I continue up Pike Street and see the girl leaning her bare butt against a building, pants on the ground,  she finishes her pee and pulls wipes out of her bag and cleans herself. Her arms are pocked with red blotches. She doesn’t have her sleeping bag, her hair is a mess and people walking by pretend not to notice.

On the streets you  can an escape for for a while, it’s a place where we can lose ourselves amongst the colors, the sounds, the smells, our reflections on windows blend with others.