The bluest skies you've ever seen
And the hills the greenest green
Like a beautiful child growing up free and wild
Full of laughter, full of tears,
Full of hopes and full of fears,
Full of dreams to last the years
In Seattle... in Seattle...
Ever since we got to Montana, every time I noticed that the sky was blue or that the hills were greeen, this song started running through my head. And when we got into Washington and I thought about going to Seattle, this song started running through my head. It's the theme song to Here Come the Brides, which first aired almost 40 years ago, and I still remember all the words (I think).
We watched the show every week, and I was in love with (of course) Bobby Sherman. Everybody I knew watched the show, and it's my theory that the rash of little boys born to my generation who were named Jason, Joshua, or Jeremy, were the product of having the Bolt brothers become a subliminal part of our psyches. As we racked our brains for a name for our sons, we wanted a name that was strong, noble, decent, and manly. And the Bolt brothers were there for us. Logging men. Real men. The kind of men you'd want your son to be named after.
My mom and I went to Seattle today, but we didn't find any Bolt brothers.
It was raining as we rode the ferry from Bainbridge Island.
In Seattle, we started at Pioneer Square, where they have the tours of Underground Seattle, but neither of us was up for a 90-minute walk, when we had other places to go as well, so we caught the free bus over to Pike Place Market, where this man was playing the piano near the entrance. I didn't notice what he was singing, and I didn't give him any money.
The market has a mix of things for sale. Fresh fish, jewelry, candles, tie-dyed fabrics, photography, paintings, produce, and flowers. Lots of flowers.
We had lunch at the market, in a restaurant that overlooked Puget Sound and which had a couple pictures from Sleepless in Seattle, with the announcement that a scene from that movie had been filmed in that very restaurant. But I've never seen the movie, so I wouldn't know.
We saw protesters in several places, starting with Piano Man. One group of about a dozen had signs, but the only one I read as we walked by said, "Impeach Bush, Cheney, Gonzalez." Then the group started singing. I didn't catch the song, just that one of the women had a really nice voice. A non-protesting woman, whose age was somewhere between mine and my mom's, rolled her eyes with a look of disgust as she opened the door to a store near the singers. I told her, "At least they're not naked."
Another group was more confusing. They had signs that were incoherent, beyond supporting Lyndon LaRouche. At least I think that's what they said. Really, when you protest something, your readers or listeners should be able to figure out what what the problem is. If they can't, how will you spread your message? The LaRouche guys have a long way to go.
After lunch, we took the free bus to the mall and caught the monorail over to Seattle Center, where the Space Needle is. They have carnival rides at the base of the Space Needle, but we didn't ride any of them. Going up 520 feet was excitement enough.
After the Space Needle, we went back to the ferry terminal for our ride back to Bainbridge Island. The ferry was late, though, because one of them on that route lost its steering in the morning (slightly important), and they couldn't keep the normal schedule all day. But we finally boarded and left Seattle, an incoming ferry passing us on our way.
Tomorrow we head south.