I spent this past Sunday afternoon covering the Cornucopia Grande Parade. It had everything from belly dancers to drill teams to politicians, all striding along while people and small dogs watched in wonderment.
I got my usual July sunburn, in spite of the sunblock, and thanks to Irish genetics.
But as I watched Seafair pirates attempting to give a new crop of kids nightmares, I thought to myself: there is something missing here.
Then I realized there were a lot of somethings missing:
Gale-force winds. Driving rain. Polar temperatures.
As our first year with light rail comes to a close, Sound Transit officials are certain to declare the experiment an unqualified success. Yet, a closer look at the actual performance shows citizens are not getting what they are paying for.
Ask any wildland firefighter and they’ll swear by their “pulaski,” a tool that combines an axe and a mattock (similar to a pickaxe). It was invented by U.S. Forest Service Ranger Ed Pulaski in 1911, one year after the nation’s largest wildfire nearly took his life and left him permanently scarred. While Pulaski is remembered for his firefighting tool, it was the pain and suffering he and hundreds of other firefighters endured that led to today’s workers’ compensation system.
This past July 4, instead of having a barbecue and watching fireworks, I did something on the quieter side.
With my teenage daughter in tow, I attended a naturalization ceremony in Seattle.
While jetliners soared overhead and an American flag flapped from the nearby Space Needle, we saw a group of 500 people, from all walks of life, become U.S. citizens.
Did you know you can purchase your own “man cave”? I saw it myself on TV. For a few bucks you can enjoy the peace and serenity of your own manly space, complete with your own hot rod, big screen television and prized hat collection.
So, I visited Pride Fest last Sunday at Seattle Center.
For those of you not familiar with it, Pride Fest is Seattle’s celebration of sexuality, in all its facets. It’s a festival about acceptance of our fellow humans – whether those humans are older folks in North Face jackets, or a guy with a mohawk in a tutu.
Given its subject matter, Pride Fest is a magnetic north pole for some folks, kryptonite for others.
From the patients in my office we can learn why Medicare and Medicaid cannot control costs. Neither the President, the Congress, nor learned journals are telling these stories.
Teenagers aren’t supposed to be fighting for their lives.
At 16, a teenage girl is supposed to be hanging out with her friends, flirting, doing sports, and thinking about the day she’ll drive.
As the mother of a healthy teenage daughter, I have the joy of watching those events unfold: the first dance, the first day of high school, the first crack at being a grownup.
Last week, I had the chance to meet another teenage girl, unfurling a vastly different life plan: survival.
As Father’s Day approaches, I’ve been giving some thought on what to get Dads out there. My own Dad passed away years ago, but I am a father, and since I still remember what it is like to give my dad a gift, here are a few ideas about what to get, or what not to get, Dad this weekend.
I ran an entire package of Fig Newtons through my washer machine last month.
It was not, as Martha Stewart would say, a good thing.
I didn’t do it on purpose, but the reason why I laundered a box of cookies illustrates a problem that is bigger than a gunked-up washer.
On May 12, 2010, my son, age 12, collapsed at school due to cardiac arrest.
I was called by the front office and was advised strongly to get to the school as soon as possible for there was an incident with my son and 911 had to be dispatched.
Last week Ken Griffey Jr. did the courageous and probably hardest thing to do in his career. He packed up his locker and walked out the door of Safeco Field and retired.
This weekend, a new crop of high-school graduates will be walking across the stage at the Kent ShoWare Center, mortarboards on head and gowns over suits and dresses.
They’ll be walking to take their diplomas.
They’ll also be walking to take their place in society, as adults.
The Class of 2010 will be walking at a watershed moment for this country.
Do you believe in ghosts?
That was a question I was asking myself this past week, after attending the city’s birthday party at the Kent Historical Museum.
I was shooting pictures during an awards presentation at the museum, and discovered an odd blip on one of my photos.
The sky is not falling.
So why’s that news?
Because the district insists on saying it is. As a result, teachers are taking the unusual step of holding a community budget forum that points out the facts and folly of the district’s financial claims.
May was National Foster Care Month, and it’s prompted me to reflect on my experiences with the child welfare system that is charged with protecting thousands of Washington’s most vulnerable children.
Like a lot of people involved with the city of Kent, I'm trying to make sense of the senseless.
Seth Frankel, the city's video-program coordinator, is no longer with us, and it's so difficult to wrap my head around the reasons why.
As outlined in news reports (including ours), Frankel, 41, was found deceased at his Auburn home May 22, and his death is being investigated as a homicide.
Back in 1990, the Food and Drug Administration required major food producers to label their packages with calorie, fat, carbohydrate, and other nutritional information.
For many of us, this changed the way we bought groceries.
The meal was chicken and dumplings, and my companion was Jean Ray.
And for a measly $6, I had lunch and made a friend on a Monday afternoon. The Kent Senior Activity Center is the place to be for a weekday lunch. And, frankly, it needs our support.
Recently Seattle was awarded, for the second year in a row, the title of "Most miserable sports city." We can thank the fine folks at Forbes magazine for giving us this most dubious honor.
