Places

CHEHALIS, WASHINGTON The town where Ron started (and completed) his teaching career, the town where Shannon was born. While our marriage lacked many necessary components for healthy growth, we were able to carry on a fairly normal life, and had many fine friends. Carolyn & Gail Shaw, Ethel & Bob Quant, and Ed & Mel Johnson were very important in my life, as were Ken & Audrey Kimball, Ken & Carol Tinkham, and Chet & Henrietta Rhodes, Bob & Florence Kennicott. The Brumbaughs, Gronseths, Hamiltons, Hughes, Berryhills, Hansons, and Clarice Hewlett. They're just a few of the people who touched our lives with kindness, color, and quality.

I remember the Yard Birds, Hughes Shoe Store, Chehalis Music Store, many, many excellent band and choir concerts, Market Street, St. Helen's Hotel, the Ben Franklin Store, the Chehalis Methodist Church, Proffitt's, Broiler Mac's (great hamburgers),the funeral home where I sometimes sang (that didn't last long: I got too caught up in the families' emotions),the Hamilton Angus Ranch, Centralia, the Cowlitz River, Adna, Pe Ell,Tenino, Mossyrock, Winlock, Onalaska, Mt. St. Helens, Spirit Lake, Lewis & Clark State Park, and many wonderful, supportive friends. Some of the finest people I'll ever know live in Chehalis, and I am privileged to have known them.

HONOLULU, HAWAII A jewel of a city in a magnificent setting. The city where I was divorced, then later re-married. I remember with gratitude the friendship of Kay Bishop and Donna Fuller over many years when my life was topsy turvy. After I married Jack, I had a ready-made famiy with many people who nurtured me. One who was so very good to me is Mary Anne Vorfeld. More friends and role models: Betty Hay Freeland, Madeline Vasconcellos, Frances Janssen, Edna Enomoto, Pauline Ednie, Karen St. John, and Nancy Kimura. And many more.

How I loved Haunauma Bay, Waimanalo Beach, Makaha Beach, the Hilton Hawaiian Village Lagoon Beach, and Waikiki Beach. Ah, the scent of sun tan lotion ... the warmth of the sun ... the pounding of the ocean on the white, sandy shore ... perhaps it's not surprising that in subsequent years, I've had my share of superficial skin cancer.

LUMMI ISLAND What a magical place for building memories. Our family usually spent most summers in our cabin: a large, unpainted, shell with a wood stove for cooking and heat. No electricity and no running water until I was older. A two-seat outhouse up the hill, and a beautiful woody area below the house. Beyond that was the beach. Each year we removed the indications of the mice that lived in the cabin, scrubbed it down and got it ready for summer fun. Campfires. Roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. Singing silly songs while the sun disappeared over the horizon. Quite nights.

I remember seagulls, starfish, crabs, kelp, clams, agates, skipping rocks, campfires, tiny wild strawberries, nettles, kerosene lamps, reading when the weather was rainy, lush, scented evergreens dripping with rain, and hikes on the beach and around and across the island. I also remember smokewood: small driftwood twigs we kids used as cigarettes when we felt like living dangerously. I remember the canvas hammock between two huge trees. And a teenage neighbor named Chick Bicking that I had a crush on when I was about eight. The quiet contentment of traveling between the mainland and the island on Chief Kwina, a ferryboat we sometimes got to steer. Lummi offered me a special kind of peace.

I remember with joy the beauty of the area, the many rides into the country, into the Skagit Valley, around Chuckanut Drive, and up into Vancouver. I especially cherish my memories of the people of my childhood church. Many are still living, and I love visiting with them. My grandparents helped found the church,and my mother, Ethel Crook, has been organist since before the Flood. I find it interesting that the Boyntons' grandson and my favorite brother, David Boynton Crook, was pastor for about seven years before he and Janet "retired" to Peoria, Arizona, where I live.