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Articles in "Island Life "

Now there’s some sad things known to man. But ain’t too much sadder than. The tears of a clown, when there’s no one around Smokey Robinson

I have been locked into a different routine as of late. My day generally begins with a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee that I carry out onto the back deck.

One might ask, given all the entertainment and recreational activities open to one on Vashon on any particular weekend, why anyone would actively strive to join in on an event that touts a passage to pain as its main drawing card

Yesterday morning at about 5 a.m. New Hampshire time I had a rather hollow and knotting feeling in my stomach. This wasn’t due to a lack of food, but rather an absence of a crucial document.

Many people are planting vegetables this year, some of whom have never gardened before. I gardened with great passion and little skill before I had children. We have a near-sunless, sodden little yard, but I planted in faith.

Fame makes a man take things over. Fame lets him lose, hard to swallow.
Fame puts you there where things are hollow Fame ~David Bowie- Fame

The only female in the competition, Alexina Slater was more than a long shot. She was seen as a risk to the whole event. Too young, too reckless, too weak and too female for such a challenge, the organizers sent a special boat along with the swimmers to trail the main group and pick up the girl once she fell behind and before she drowned.

I was floating around in the Vashon Pool this past Saturday, taking advantage of lap swim on this first day of the pool being open this year. I was trying to remember how it feels like to be in shape for swimming, as I was feeling quite far from that point on my first day back in the water since last October.

“I’d be comfortable telling the director to not commit to anything for a couple of weeks.”- Bill Ameling, VPD Commissioners Meeting- 13 May 2014

I have a mixed relationship with guns. On my Mother’s side, her parents had a Korean War era bolt action rifle propped up behind the floor lamp that stood to one side of their fireplace.

I can’t say that it was the power of suggestion, or even bad luck. I had, indeed , been reading a cyclist’s essay this morning about enjoying a long,

As anyone reading this column should know by now, I have come to dread the second and fourth Tuesday of any given month.

From a time way before the magic of shopping the internets, I’m still trying to remember how I wound up in a hobby shop in New York City buying that radio controlled plane kit.

In one week my Dad will be eighty nine years old. On that day, he will be two things- one new and one that he’s always been.

Things have definitely changed in my times with the television set. Having gone from Captain Kangaroo and Leave it to Beaver to South Park and the Daily Show, we have seen what some might call a shift in the available viewing spectrum of shows.

“If you look at what we did, is we acquired an asset for, like, uh, fifty cents on the dollar, because we got the state to pay more than half.” Bill Ameling

With the clock radio flashing over the head of the bed in the dark, I knew the time it displayed would now be totally wrong, rather than the six to ten minutes ahead of normal time that it’s usually set at.

For some reason, our phone service has become a mere shadow- or perhaps since it is sound we are talking here, a distant echo- of its former self.

I don’t care what anyone says- I loved that movie. To be truthful though, if the trimaran had not been a part of the screenplay, the film might have lost a bit of its appeal.

No matter how you slice it, you do not drift, bask, bob or immerse oneself in forty nine degree water. In that sense, Scott Bonney got it totally right when he dubbed the recent day after Thanksgiving, Burton to Dockton harbor swim as the "Too Much Turkey/ Pilgrim Plunge".

In my ongoing self-enumeration of personal inadequacies, I have finally found solace in a statement made at the latest Vashon Park District (VPD) commissioners meeting last night by zen master Bill Ameling.

I know- it is more correct to call them sea stars, but my thinking about that goes along these lines. It was only recently that I recall hearing of those star shaped sea creatures being called anything but starfish, and while I am not averse to altering a long held incorrectness, given recent events it may not matter what one calls them.

For some reason, with my latest sojourn into the world of competitive rowing, I find myself needing to be immersed in this culture.

I suppose the above title could be taken a few different ways: one as an action of immediate, threatening urgency,