Looking Back and Forward

Election Day. As an unabashed political junkie, today would seem like the perfect time for reflection. In terms of political analysis, however, today snuck up on me this go around. Not because of a lack of attentiveness - I assure you that my bets are well-voiced off-line and my Washington State ballot was tallied weeks ago. We do it all by mail here and in Oregon - this is the future of voting, America. Well, unless/until the Postal Service goes belly up.

Nonetheless, the point of my distraction from the national matter(s) at hand have everything to do with just getting unpacked and dusted off after one last research road trip. I've just unpacked the travel bag for what truly feels like the last time on the primary research for Pelting Out. This final jaunt I'm happy to report allowed me the chance to purposely bring along my curious and amazing daughter, while my wife pursues her own research travel in Africa (Zimbabwe in particular, for those wondering where in the world Sarah is this time). Maya and I went to Wisconsin for a once-in-nearly-a-century special family gathering that provided me with among other related pleasures the true, hands-on narrative ending my book needed. Which begs the question from some - jeez, is it done? That depends on what definitions for "is" and "it" and "done" you're looking to use. I'll just say that the "it" makes much more sense now. I'm happy to report - with a healthy dose of bittersweetness - that without this last trip back to my family's homestead, that "it" couldn't possibly have made as much sense. Or felt as true.

So today is all about "transition" for me. As a storyteller and a citizen. I won't say in which order of importance. However you may reflect upon today - whether you're celebrating or lamenting or trying to tease out why any of this really matters - I hope you've found an equally satisfying reason to move forward with your own work.

Moving on from bronzed pigs to mad cows

My week of playing tour guide turned out to be a complete delight. Don't tell anyone, but Seattle's most visited sights are still "walk right on" empty when April hasn't yet morphed into the proper touristy months. So all the way from the top of the Space Needle through the depths of the old MOHAI and the soon-to-be filled space wing of The Museum of Flight (those last two are personal faves) - we seemingly had the run of the City. Amidst all that free and/or easy access, I tried to keep my eye on more than a few stories of direct interest to my larger narrative. Such as another case of "mad cow disease" turning up at a truly Orwellian-sounding rendering plant in California. Or how 'bout the U.S. Senate punting on a fix for the Postal Service, leaving the House to possibly play the baddie and shutter vast swaths of this Constitutionally-mandated system? Yup - those both indeed happened. My personal near-term connection to "mad cow" research (its origins and importance) comes from a series of conversations I had at Washington State University while on the road the week before last. Which seems like months ago. Plus the whole U.S. snail mail conundrum fascinates me - how can we rescue and re-purpose a system so essential for an ever shrinking and yet evolving minority? I can think of no other debate on the nation's plate right now that better captures an "urban vs. rural" political dichotomy.

If you share some small measure of the interest in these or other salient issues, check back. I'll surely still be here, from time to time. Not standing near Rachel the Pig @ Pike Place Market - that was last week.

Back to touring, much closer to home

I spent last week scanning the scene throughout parts of Washington and Oregon. Just shy of 1800 miles tallied, which took me from Seattle to northeast WA, along the Columbia River all the way to the OR Coast, on down to the southwestern edge of OR and all the way back home again. I'm being a total tease (just for the time being...I promise) when it comes to the details. The trip helped me mix and strengthen the mental mortar I need for a expansive, not-just-decorative wall o' insights. But this week, I've changed hats and get to play a personal favorite role as tour guide (my parents are visiting from Wisconsin for the first time in a few years). I'm savoring the chance to hit the full Seattle slew of delights - too many of which most local folks don't normally have the time to enjoy. Issues continue to hit my radar. The work goes on. Deadlines are still deadlines. It's worth noting, however, the validation that comes from a straight-up touristy wander when the situation calls for it. You're welcome to join me. Just look for the guy with the big foam finger and Sasquatch costume, pointing up at the Space Needle. Any questions?

Nutria Get a Makeover

A fabulous little artistic surprise showed up in my inbox this morning. A writer friend (Eric Jay Dolin - total pro historian & writer of book-length tales) forwarded the link from the NYTimes because his last book gets featured prominently in the resulting video. The animator/writer of the actual video (Drew Christie - maker of all sorts of amazing creative goodness) lives here in Seattle. The subject of the video is the often maligned nutria. They're tough furry buggers to love. Nutria decimate the vegetation along the shoreline of various bodies of water, leading to erosion and general environmental sadness. So they've had bounties placed on their fugly little heads as an unworthy "invasive species" for years. I've been intrigued for years by the various origin stories of how this South American rat with its distinctive orange teeth ended up scattered all over. The basic rundown (also described by Christie in this animated story from his own family's lore) usually ties in some overly excited agribusiness folks who couldn't handle what they bought. Nutria, as the story goes, enjoyed a period of being touted as the next big thing for furry fashion. Oddly enough, even today's fashion hasn't abandoned the idea of using nutria. In fact, some folks are astonishingly creative when it comes to using them, while trying to rebrand the "use" of nutria as good for the environment. But that's a whole other distillation of the nutria debate featured in this animation. I highly recommend y'all check out Drew Christie's fresh, fantastic video featuring a downright lovable nutria, duly educated by Eric Jay Dolin's book (Fur, Fashion, Empire - W.W. Norton 2010). Kid friendly, to boot.

The search for a narrative recipe that works

I'm back in Seattle and just dropped my mother-in-law off at SeaTac - the value of her help in taking care of our daughter and keeping the homefront under control in my absence is impossible to quantify. The cliche` about "it takes a village to raise a child" certainly applies when one of that child's parents needs to get out of Dodge for a mental stretch - I really couldn't do the work I'm doing without that sort of help. So now I'm back, digesting what I found along the way. I put 1800 miles on a rented Hyundai criss-crossing a wide swath of Iowa and Wisconsin (with just a toe tap into Illinois). For anyone who spends enough time on the road in pursuit of what often they alone hope to be a grand story, I'm sure the revelation is not surprising that the places in between the places on the itinerary really spin the web upon which to hang a narrative. Without being able to fill in too much detail, I must still say that this was a singularly valuable trip for me. I talked extensively about the science, politics, statistics, culture and back breaking work of agribusiness. Hours and hours of interviews remain for me to parse and digest. But the overall takeaway is obvious. Planning leads to insight. Insight - in turn, I hope - leads to good output. Output provides the foundation. And in the case of this project, the foundation is what you need to build something new. Seattle is a long ways from almost everywhere I visited over the past week+ - both physically and metaphorically speaking. I'm nonetheless grateful that I've now got at least some of that insight that I'll use to flavor the recipe I've got in mind for this book. In so many ways, the grind begins anew. Then mix, taste test, add the flavor, and taste test again. To mix the metaphor completely - that's how the good sausage gets made. Not that I know anything about making (aside from cooking) sausage. Mmmm...sausage (drool).

The forecast does nothing to cool off the hotness of "The Orphan Master's Son"

Weather forecasts are like so many campaign promises - I'll believe it when...no, IF...I see it. Seattle's current forecast began this morning with banner headlines suggesting as much as 14" through tomorrow. The schools promptly freaked out - they started two hours late then sent the kids home two hours early today and have already canceled for tomorrow. I can scarcely imagine how many families are adversely affected by this silly cautiousness. But I'm especially bummed on behalf of the literary folks roiling around this fabulous reader/writer-centric city. There are so many events on the schedule I can hardly choose. Seriously. Case in point - last night featured no less than three very worthy readings for new books served up at the exact same time. The meager remnants of snow and slush on the streets last night still surely thinned out the crowds. I missed the iconic William Gibson and local fave Ryan Boudinot (who I hope to catch at one of the other events he's sure to have upcoming locally). I did, however, choose incredibly well. Adam Johnson read from and discussed his new novel The Orphan Master's Son - set in North Korea, truly daring in what I've just dipped a toe into thus far, filled with the unique observations of someone who actually took the time to travel to that strangest of all strange nations. Nothing against those other writerly studs - I'd bet those events warmed up the crowds aplenty. I will nonetheless offer up a complete swoon in review of Adam Johnson as a fascinating fellow and master of the effortless, off-the-cuff anecdote. Those who ventured into Johnson's reading in the bowels of Elliott Bay Book Company know how lucky they were to have heard his stories. I encourage everyone to check out his new novel - Michiko Kakutani raved in favor of it like she so rarely does. And while I hope the forecast for Seattle continues to be downgraded so I can venture out a few more evenings this week, I'm damn glad to have a hot new book on hand.

Checking out the Seattle Mist during a steady downpour

I'm a man of my word when it comes to covering the hard news. As such, the PETA sponsored protest involving the Seattle Mist started at noon today in Westlake Park. A few members of the local press showed up prior to the appointed time - I noticed one of them pulling a serious photographer rig out of the car parked just ahead of me on 2nd Avenue. We gave each other a "wassup" nod after which I asked if he was downtown to "shoot lingerie" and he replied "I hope it's not a total bust." Scout's honor. The rain was miserably steady around that time, soaking through even the heartiest and best geared-up. I spent much of the next hour under an awning or similar building outcropping. Two of the players (#4 Riki Creger-Zier and #12 Christine Moore) showed right about on time. Two others (#8 Chelsie Jorgensen and #5 Jessica Hopkins) showed up soon after. That made 4 of the forecast 10 players. Add in two PETA handlers, maybe a few dozen passersby who stopped to snap pictures or take a flier, and a half dozen pseudo-serious media types and you've got the sum total of today's protest. The pictures I've seen out on the web thus far look pretty bleak. I've at least tried to capture the humanity seen in what until not long ago was the part of downtown where Occupy Seattle held sway. Y'all can see for yourselves a few of my own posted above. Including one from inside the Starbucks across the street where the team headed inside to order drinks and dry off. I was already there, reflecting upon what this protest means in the grander context (you'll just have to wait for that). I snapped a few pics for Chelsie (a fan favorite, given her past work in "Playboy") using her iPhone and then took a few of my own. I'm not sure if the Lingerie Football League will make it all the way through this season - last Season was cancelled after just 3 games. Whatever happens, I think they'd do just fine in an outdoor game here in the Northwest judging by how they looked after an hour in the rain.

Taking political cues from Women who play football in their underwear

For all sorts of men (or maybe just one sort), the idea of combining "lingerie" and "football" causes sensory overload. But I'd be lying if I didn't fess up to sneaking a peek at the uniformly forgettable, insulting Lingerie Bowls shown during past Super Bowls. This bastardized amalgam exists for one reason only, and it ain't the quality of the competition. I've noticed recent press for the campaign where  lingerie football players joined up with PETA to protest the wearing of fur. Which falls in line with PETA's quite extensive, overtly-sexual campaigns. Sexy vegans, mock porn meant to suggest that dairy causes impotence, just plain sexy folks from all over the cultural map being photographed for their various "I'd rather go naked..." campaigns. No matter where you fall on the argument, there should be some agreement that this approach captures attention. I'm nonetheless struck by plans for a protest tomorrow in downtown Seattle featuring members of the Seattle Mist - our very own Lingerie Football League team. Not so much by the participants - like I said, this has been done before. No, I'm more struck by the timing. Didn't the biggest shopping season of the year end just a week or so ago? Who in their right mind would be out shopping for anything right about now? I haven't seen any scouting reports and I don't know much about it. I'll be there, though. Research. Yeah, that's what the kids call it. Check back for a report on what I find. Along with links for any memorabilia I'll then put up for sale on eBay.

A few degrees separation between the DMV and the South Pole

I need to go to the DMV today. It's that generally loathsome type of visit - when an emissions check is due for one of our cars, before getting a new license plate sticker thingie. In other words, far from a time capsule moment. But I've decided to combine an obligatory trip across the Town with a much cooler side trip. One that marks an actual historic day. For Norway and the World. Because today is the 100th Anniversary of Roald Amundsen's arrival at the South Pole, becoming the first to do so. Well, along with the four other Norwegians and dozens of sled dogs that accompanied him on the trip. Until a few days ago, I was blissfully unaware of this momentous Norwegian. But then I read a review in the "Seattle Times" of an exhibit at the Nordic Heritage Museum on loan from Norway that features tons of archival Amundsen material. Yesterday I also read an engrossing article describing what's ongoing in Antarctica in terms of scientific research. Combine that with my own family research questions to decipher - I'm looking to the old school staff at that Museum in Ballard for a bit of translation. Because I'm still a bit confused about where we, in particular, come from - Sweden, Finland, Norway, somewhere that doesn't exist any more. So call today part of my own journey out beyond the edge of the known world. Check back if you're curious about what I find there.

Chasing Amish rainbows

Whenever I drive through northern Wisconsin, the sight of Amish people ambling along in their horse-drawn carriages never ceases to cause a double take. They're like rainbows. Always worth a looksie. And just about as approachable. I do, however, have plans to visit with them in the future given their unusual contribution to the agribusiness workforce up in the Northwoods. Quite amazingly, they increasingly stand alongside Mexican workers up there as the primary remaining pools of workers in the particular business area I'm exploring. Before I can get to what they do, I'm struck by how little I know about who they are. Just the basics are still a mystery. Amish vs. Mennonite, for example. I always simply referred to their community near Medford as Amish. Usually with an "um, but I'm not really sure" attached to the description. Thankfully, the Amish have taken to the web to clarify things. They may not be the most up-to-date on design, but the flock that's migrated at least in part to sharing their ways on the web are nonetheless informative. Now I know that the Medford-area Amish are the oldest such community in Wisconsin. I also see that even the Amish bitch about the winter. So are we really all that different? Actually, yes. Unless they're somehow finding their way to this blog right now thanks to a Google search after a dinner party conversation about me brought the subject up. WAY different. Still, I dig the carriages - you gotta give them mad props for keeping that technology fresh.

Wrapping a neat little bow around China? Good luck with that.

I still have to look back at my last - and probably favorite - part of the ten days I spent in China. Hong Kong. I got just a taste - delivered in a whirlwind of exploration and not much sleep. But it was enough to amp up my sense of urban life halfway across the world. I was completely caught off guard by how much I loved the blend of East and West there. This part of my tour was really only about exploring - not the spoon fed exposure to this business I'm researching. So I could just soak up tiny bit of a city that has blended East and West into a fascinating stew.

But since my return to Seattle and the dozens of conversations both large and small about this trip to China, I'm finding it hard to wrap a bow around it. Without giving away everything I've been working on for Pelting Out - please bear in mind that this blog is meant to slowly let out some line on the reel that is a big book project. A few nights ago I talked with one of my best friends about the broad arc of all this - China, writing a non-fiction book when fiction's been the gig for so long, how it feels to be an American overseas these days. This friend has always been one of my most unflinching, spot-on sounding boards. And as such, he made me think about what any of us know about China - those who've been fortunate enough to visit, those who complain about their rise, those who couldn't care less about the subject. I found us debating whether there's a historical comparison for China's rise. Maybe you've got one, but we came up bupkis. So rather than look for a big summarizing construct...I'm done with the China shtick in this forum. For the time being. But not before I lay out a few of the things I did in Hong Kong that so entirely entertained me for that brief recent period.

I jostled my way around the subway system. I saw how people congregate downtown on a Sunday, with crowds of what appear to be foreign-born women dancing in the street and throughout Statue Park. I braved the crowds to ride the Peak Tram (the world's steepest funicular rail line) up to Victoria Peak. I tried not to interrupt morning exercises of all kinds in Kowloon Park. I wandered the Night Markets. I got chops made for family - carved marble ink stamps with Chinese characters spelling out our Western names phonetically that are used to accompany signatures. I took an amazing ferry cruise not just through Victoria Harbor and back, but all the way out to Lamma Island for a seafood dinner. I even got a full clinic on using chopsticks correctly - an embarrassing but validating discovery during an incredible three-hour dinner seated next to a friendly local who wasn't the least bit afraid of pointing out that my technique needed tweaking.

After all that and much more than you surely care to read, I came back to Seattle. Sated, challenged, and armed with stories and pictures and impressions I'm obviously still sorting my way through. Do I want to go back? Absolutely. But for the time being, I've got fish much closer to home to catch and season for serving. Thanks for reading. If you check back, I promise there will be more (and less - shorter entries hereafter) that I hope proves tasty. All heading in the general direction of a much larger project. Or so I keep telling myself.

Some days do turn out right as rain

I can't say I was surprised by a piece about the growing "luxury goods" tourists coming to Europe from China. They want quality, they've got the money, they'll go to the source. Personally, I'm planning to head to the Temple Street Night Market in Hong Kong at the very end of my ten days in China to find an especially interesting fake watch or three. For this guy, quality isn't really the point. I'm talking character. Somewhat different is the consideration I made earlier today in terms of gifts to bring with me to China. Just in case, I'm thinking. I've read a bit on gift-giving etiquette and I thought I had the right idea. Nothing too extravagant. Maybe something with a story attached. So I thought - small writing journals. I then thought - made here in the good ol' US of A. Not to be obsessed about it, but handing someone in China a lit'l something that turns out was actually made in their own country seems, well, about as special as a kiss from your sister. At the University Bookstore near U-Dub, I found the perfect brand. Made in Tacoma, designed to be used outside in the rain. Named "Rite in the Rain" with yellow - or YELL-ow! - covers on a full spectrum of notebook styles. As someone who's always found the Reporter's Notebook to be a simply-awesome, surely-dated-but-who-cares tool, I've found my new favorite Washington State gifts producer. The Chinese can have their Louis Vuitton runs through Paris. I'll take my paper chase right here in the (general) 'hood. I'll keep you posted on whether those I give these puppies to feel the same way. Trust me - they're awesome.

Until the next page turns...may your little soccer player follow practice by consuming a monster dinner, washing her hair, reading you a book and turning out the light without complaint on your last night before a big trip. I'm a very lucky Dad, indeed.

Fondly posting about the Postal Service

I seldom see such an unromantic notion as that of abolishing the U.S. Postal Service for the sake of budgetary politics. This meme has been going on for ten days since the NYTimes appropriately gave it some Front Page dap. I'm still amazed that so few people have risen to defend this transcendent service. With renewed focus on the act of doing so, I visited our local Post Office this morning to pick up an Express Mail package. I waltzed through the door right at 9am, after dropping Maya at school. There was one car in the parking lot, no one in line, and the woman behind the counter greeted me like an old friend even though I've never seen her before. I'm sure that most of us have far fewer occasions than those around the holidaze when such a trip is required. But the thought of losing the overall cloud of things that make up the Postal Service painfully pinches the sentimental core of my brain. Combine all the retro-yet-still-utilitarian coolness in the world - vinyl records, Polaroid cameras, manual typewriters, knitting, growing your own vegetables, beer making, basically anything you'd ever find at a flea or farmers market - multiply it by 10 and you're less than halfway to the appreciation and loss factor I think we as a Nation would feel if we actually stuck a fork in the souffle that is the mail. Speaking as someone with his own stationary who still revels in the chance to use it, the loss of snail mail would be a crushing blow. I imagine most Americans can find distinct, personal reasons to keep the trucks rolling. I fondly remember the huge but still permissibly-sized old Hudson's Bay Company boxes we used to mail all manner of things all over the country. And those 35 boxes of books weighing in at over half of ton we mailed from San Francisco to Seattle when we moved? Thanks y'all - it was actually cheaper than having it go on a truck with the rest of our stuff. Which is surely part of the problem. Still...I fondly remember and relive the courting of my wife via snail mail letters. Yes, I said "courting" - that's how I roll. Come rain, sleet or gloom of night - let it be so for the foreseeable future.

Until the next page turns...may a barista you've not seen in a few months today have your coffee up on the counter before you even ask for it.

Let the Months be your guide

The start of the school year has me thinking about continuity. That ol' chestnut - the more things change, the more they stay the same. We brought our own daughter to her first day of First Grade this morning much like families all across the country are doing or recently have done. So goes this time of year. For me, continuity is a touchstone not only of these special family moments but the overall structure of Pelting Out. I'm using a timeline that extends across decades, but not in anything like a yearly chronological sense of time. Instead, I'm hanging everything off an eternal monthly calendar. What happens in September, stays in September - whether we're talking 1917 or 2011. That, for me, has allowed narrative threads to be strung between what would otherwise be hard to connect periods of history. When I frame my thinking using the months of the year, I can consider what my Grandfather Harry might have thought on my family's then nearly 40-year-old homestead in northern Wisconsin in September of 1917. Then, just maybe, I can present the parallel with what's going on as I enjoy Seattle's beautiful extended summer. Much like what I experienced for the first time when I arrived here for graduate school nearly 20 years ago. The trick will be to do that over the whole arc I've set up for Pelting Out. Narrative non-fiction is, after all, an exercise in storytelling that requires structure and (hopefully) a unique point of view.

Until the next page turns...I hope you saw your own child skipping into the classroom this morning.