A Living Magazine - Day 98 - Joel, Mitchell, Cassie, Brenda and Lanterns, Light the Last Night

When I awoke everything felt like a normal Spokane day. My routine - followed for nearly a month there - was like a comfortable pair of hiking boots--the way they almost put themselves on me in the morning. But, I knew this would probably be the last time in my life that I would be camping at Latah Creek. I knew every bush, every tree, every hill, nook and cranny.

Furthermore, I knew Spokane nearly as well as a native born citizen. Its rail bridges, and river bridges and pedestrian bridges... It had become the symbol of the bridge for me between the West and the Midwest. But, it had also become so much more.

On this last morning, I deliberately took my time with the pack up. I didn't care if a jogger or hiker passed by. It was all over now--the need for stealth. With my eyes I tried to drink in all the familiar scenery as deeply as I could, in a vain attempt to emboss them as clear memories on a mind now packed with so many others. This same emotional reaction to departing the places I've gotten to know so well has only grown in intensity with each passing month.

Leaving this town was even more of a blow, since I'd met two very special women. And, on this day, I would meet two very passionate young men. It was like the town was making one last effort to stitch me into itself; another patch in its colorful quilt. If any towns outside of Maine would have competed for my citizenship, Spokane would probably have won.

I walked straight to the park. I had a few things I wanted to do before leaving. It was a good place to collect my thoughts and check everything for the next day's train ride (actually, it was to be practically on the same day--this day was Saturday and I was due to leave on Amtrak at 1:30 am Sunday morning). I also wanted to check the value on my 1963 D penny. I had visions of being handed a twenty dollar bill by an appreciative dealer. There was a place called Coins Plus, over on Division. I'd passed it many times on the bus. Except for the delicious looking sandwich and about $4.00 on my card, I was a bit anxious about being able to eat for the next two days. 

On a train, there are rest stops every few hours, but you can not leave the railway siding, so no convenient stores would be available to me. My choice - if I even had any money - would be vending machines at stations, or Amtrak's food, which is marked up about 500%. Just a coffee would deplete my $4.00. Like anyone who deals with worrying about financial insecurity, the psychological wear and tear of constantly being unsure of when I would be able to eat was getting really old.

For the record, though I ask for contributions to this blog from my readers, I have never one single time pan-handled or asked for money or food while traveling. People offer food; usually at just the right time (as happened the evening before, with my sandwich). They have offered me water, let me have discounts, etc... but, ALWAYS they offer--I don't ask. It is part of my plan. I believe that to consciously give without being bidden, nor with the expectation of repayment, is the material equivalent of "Love in Action". 

People who are moved to do this for me (and others) are the beating heart of genuine goodness in this country. They are better than our/their governments (local, state or federal). Even if they don't understand the complexity of the social problems that they - in their own modest way - are trying to make up for as individuals (sometimes, quite futily), they know in their hearts, and subsequently in their souls, that the Universe approves.

I've written at great length about the distinctly human negative traits (e.g. brutality for no reason, the desire to hurt others, the temptation of greed, the fickleness of their attention spans, laziness, complacency, etc...). But there is also a faint flickering flame carried by many exceedingly unselfish and deeply caring human beings, and handed out by them to their less fortunate sisters and brothers on a regular basis. To love is to give. In a world conditioned by hardship, these people love, unconditionally.

On the way to the picnic table I noticed someone had done some chalk art...    

Love to talk to the artist about this one.

I thought this one looked a bit like me, were I to replace my Romines Motor Co. cap with a top hat.

OK, so I'd checked everything out, made sure I still had my $4.00, and dumped a handful of change into my pocket for the bus. The Transit Center was packed with people heading out of the downtown area, for shopping etc. When I boarded the Route 25 Division bus, it was standing room only. 

It was a short ride up Division to a block near Coins Plus. I vetted them on TripAdvisor, and was frankly, not impressed with the reviews. One glowing review talked about a good experience, to every five reviews of complaining about service. The sales people were said to be inattentive, snobby, indifferent and cold. I guessed I was about to find out.

I pulled out the wallet and removed my single 1963 D penny, and walked into the somewhat intimidating and pretentious looking entrance. Inside, two gentlemen stood behind the glass counter case. The case was filled with gold, rare and precious coins (as one might assume!). At least I could look at these "treasures" while being ignored for about five minutes. 

Finally, one of the unsmiling guys sighed and walked over, asking me what I wanted. I showed him the penny. He said nothing as he gave a cursory examination then put it back on the counter when the phone rang. He then - without a word to me - immediately turned his back and dealt with the matter (a rare stamp) that the caller wanted to bring in for another full ten minutes. The other guy completely ignored me, until the first guy got off the phone and showed him the penny. They kind of scoffed and whispered to each other, like a pair of pawn shop workers. 

The senior guy took a one second look at the coin and said it was worth one cent as currency, and two cents as scrap. I asked about the clean condition and the raised edge on the face side. He all but rolled his eyes and agreed that, yes, the coin was in unusually good condition, but was "too modern" to be appealing to a dealer. He also said that the "error" was not significant enough to raise the value.

They kind-of tossed the penny back at me, and continued their discussion about the caller's rare stamp. I put my backpack on and slinked like the poor, coin-ignorant and pathetic street person that I was to the door, saying "thank you" as I opened it. Without turning back toward me the younger guy said, "Huh? Oh...yeah, thanks for stopping by." 

As the door shut behind me, I felt one word slip from my lips: "Assholes". My disappointment about my numismatic dreams dissolving into the copper cauldron was short-lived. I kept the penny as reminder that - except for this one - coin collecting was probably not going to be a big passion for me. If I had to deal with such people, I'd rather toss my coins into a fountain.

People don't need to be dismissive and frigid to their customers. Part of their JOB is to keep their potential clients as interested as their regulars, not piss them off--no matter how they look (appearance alone, causing the backpack bias and the poverty profiling - my terms - to eclipse their manners and business ethics). 

It wasn't very far past noon when I got back to the park. I couldn't wait any longer and ate my sandwich. When I was done, I felt quite full. Having a few hours to kill before the sun went down, when I could take pictures of the lanterns I'd been seeing for the last three weeks, I decide to transfer pictures and videos. Then I began work on the next post. I received an email from Cassie, a wonderful friend I'd met during the Junior Brown concert and hung out with a couple times that she and Brenda (another friend) would be down by the fountain for a few hours that night and wanted to say goodbye.

I was making some progress on the blog, when two young men kind-of walked and worked their way up next to me at the table, standing beside me. I couldn't ignore them, though I tried at first. We greeted each other, and they went straight to: "We were wondering if you believe in God?" Usually, this would be my signal to get rid of them. But, for some Reason, the Spark stopped me. I told them I do believe in God as they would understand the concept, but that I did not believe in proselytizing, nor social religion. 

They were very diplomatic and listened to my views patiently and with genuine interest. And, in turn, I felt that I could soften up on them. Well, we ended up have a spectacularly interesting discussion. They attended a Christian college in town. I would say that about an hour and half went by as we covered topics from my Spark concept, to the origins of antecedent reality, to the atonement doctrine, to the existence (or, in my view, nonexistence) of hell, social versus personal religion, the history of Christianity, the barriers and benefits of religious groups, and a whole host of other fascinating (to us) topics. 

I felt we really had a meeting of the minds. We had a bit of an unspoken agreement that neither of us (them or I) was trying to convince or convert the other. This allowed for an expansive and very open talk. I will say that I think they were intrigued by my view, developed over a lifetime. It is very difficult to move philosophically within the constraints of any certain church's dogma, expectations and sometimes-homogeneously accepted interpretations. But - maybe because of their ages 18 and 21 (I believe?) - they had not yet been mired down by the stringent assumptions and demands of their ministers. OR, they had a church leadership that was unusually progressive and open minded. It doesn't really matter. I think we impressed each other equally.

We talked so long that it was THEY who said they had to meet up with friends. I needed no excuse to stop the conversation, though I also expressed that I had more to do that day before I left. They asked me if they could pray for me. And, I rose - so uncharacteristic of me, that it is actually amusing to recall - and asked if I might pray with them. Mitchell began, then Joel--both, expressing very heart-felt and Real affectionate appeals for my health and happiness as I continue across the county. And, then I said a few words about how special it was for me to have had this conversation with them. We were able to acknowledge and then rise above our assumptions and philosophical disagreements, to find a common brotherly plateau of peaceful co-contemplation.

We said our goodbyes. Once again, as with so many people I've met, I gave them each my card, hoping they might friend me or stay in touch. As an aside, I would say that this generation of young people are dear to my heart. They are truly GOOD. They have seen our many mistakes and are willing to do the work of fixing them--if we would only let them. Intuitively, I perceived through the Spark that these two young men were destined be great leaders someday in whatever spheres their life experiences lead them to. One would like to be a commercial pilot, the other is interested in becoming a minister himself. And, I applaud them both. We could use as many caring and intelligent pilots and ministers as we can get. Amen!

The sun was low when my battery began to hit the red zone. I went to RiteAid and bought my favorite Mucho Mango drink ($0.99 for TWO 24 oz. cans); one for the night and one for the train, then returned to the park for my last hours and to meet Cassie and Brenda.     

I met up with the girls at the fountain and we watched as the line grew. We learned it was $17 for an adult. Obviously that ruled out my participation. Cassie suggested that we simply walk around the edges and take pictures through the fence. Brenda and I were a bit miffed that that area of the park had been closed to the public for three weeks while all of this was being set up--forcing people to take other paths, and now any citizen who can't afford the ticket price was denied the experience they had been so patiently allowing to take place. But Cassie calmed us down. It was about the beauty of the colors and the light. We could see almost as much and not pay a cent. I liked the way her mind worked.

I haven't spoken of these two at all in this blog. They wanted to remain anonymous (no last names or specifics--just like Joel and Mitchell had requested...no pictures). The girls do appear for just a moment in the following video after I filmed the drone that had been flying around, but it is up to the reader to catch it (around 1:28)...

The Chinese Lantern Festival

Front gate 0:00-0:17; long line 0:17-0:45; moving lights 0:45-1:00;

drone 1:00-1:54; sparling sidewalk 1:54-2:03; pedal trolley 2:03-2:21.

I said goodby to the girls around 11:30 pm. They offered to wait with me at the station, but I was a bit embarrassed about how boring it would be. I've really grown to love Cassie (as a friend) and getting to know Brenda, I felt a very similar affection for her. I promised to return someday, or when my ship comes in (ha!!) fly them out to Maine. Ahhh...but maybe it is just more future-fantasy. We will stay in touch of course.

The Spokane Amtrak Station. My gateway in and now out of the city.

The train was 15 minutes late. I boarded and all went fine. I ended up with a nice big seat (it's actually two seats), but unlike the regional trains, continental superliners have no arm rest between these seats, so one can kind-of half-lay down. It was a nice, comparatively large space...

I was going to do some offline work on the next post (Amtrak superliners have no Wi-fi), but all I wanted to do was look out the window and see my little adopted Western city fade away into the distance, as we chased the moon across the mountains and prairies. I admit... I got a bit misty. I pulled out my sleeping bag and used it as a pillow. Sleep came easily, filled with memories of bridges, rivers, new friends, shadow men, tags and trains that drove through the sky. I will never forget Spokane and the Pacific West. Thinking about them will cheer me the rest of my life, even if I am not able to return. They will live within me forever.