Richmond Beach Sightings
I am often surprised at how little I run into people I know in Ballard or Capitol Hill. It just seems like the odds should be there that I would every now and then. The few times that I do see someone I know, or that knows me, wandering the city of Seattle, the person is from Richmond Beach. I lived there for a couple of years, once in a lovely cabin in the back yard of an unoccupied house, another time in a second floor apartment across from the little store. I also lived with my grandmother there when I was first divorced, many many years ago. I worked in that little store (now called that, unfortunately, but was called Richmond Beach Foods) for about 3 years in all. At first it was a great place to work. At different times I was the store's assistant manager or manager of the post office. I made sandwiches and muffins, stocked shelves, made coffee, sold stamps, mailed packages and filled mail boxes. I met a lot of people there--wonderful neighbors, crazy neighbors, contractors doing work in the neighborhood, bands recording at Robert Lang studios just below my grandmother's house. I also ended up working there for a little while after I graduated college, but that is another story.
The other day, my library held a dance and storytelling of Zimbabwe program, and one of my former neighbors came in with her daughter. The Boy used to play with the daughter at the park by the Richmond Beach library when they were little kids. She is 10 now, so the age gap is 3 years. We chatted for a bit after the program and then they went into the children's area and read books.
Today I went to Freddies in Ballard to get some groceries and ran into the baker that used to work at the little store. We chatted and it turns out that she went back to school for pastries and now works for a semi-famous chocolate shop. She was one of my favorite co-workers.
About a month ago, I went to Costco in Shoreline. I was just picking up some paper plates--it was an in and out job--and I ran into M and S. M had been one of those regular customers at RB Foods that sat for hours in the mornings at the tables near the windows. Those boys would talk for hours about politics, news and each other. They would harange me and I would tease them. When we had an emergency, those regulars were right there, helping us or each other out. They were almost like a family to me. M especially, and another customer A. A was a retired engineer. He was amazing and sad, all at the same time. He was an alcoholic and slept in the same bed with his rather dirty dog, so you can imagine what he smelled like. He could build or fix just about anything, quote all the dead white guys and a few of the dead black guys, too. He made the best maraschino cherries--doubly good for the everclear they were packed in. Which brings me to another regular: Dr. B. As you may know, it can be a slight bit difficult to get everclear in Washington, but Dr. B was able to get this substance for A every year. Dr. B was a homeopathic doctor. References to this man popped up throughout my life when I was in my 20's. He still taught, and I met one of his students at a party. This young man told me that he loved Dr. B and that he had once given his entire class ephedra so they could experience the effect. I however, had always been wary of Dr. B. He was fond of offering me expensive things, like cars or a place to live. I felt these things probably had a string attached so I ignored the offers. That was proven true when I ran into A one day (I can't remember if it was walking around the neighborhood or up at Fred Meyers--I used to run into A everywhere). While we were talking, he told me that he'd just remembered that he was supposed to give me something. He handed me Dr. B's card and said "he told me to tell you that he has unlimited funds." I raised my eyebrow at him and he shrugged, saying "don't kill the messenger." I threw the card away in the nearest receptical and the only thing that could have made me wait to do so would have been if an incinerator had been nearby.
When I ran into M at Costco that day, he told me that Dr. B had passed on. I didn't know what to feel about it. Today I finally thought to look up the obituary. He was an interesting and well loved man. But boy did he creep me out.
X-posted with some edits on my LJ
The other day, my library held a dance and storytelling of Zimbabwe program, and one of my former neighbors came in with her daughter. The Boy used to play with the daughter at the park by the Richmond Beach library when they were little kids. She is 10 now, so the age gap is 3 years. We chatted for a bit after the program and then they went into the children's area and read books.
Today I went to Freddies in Ballard to get some groceries and ran into the baker that used to work at the little store. We chatted and it turns out that she went back to school for pastries and now works for a semi-famous chocolate shop. She was one of my favorite co-workers.
About a month ago, I went to Costco in Shoreline. I was just picking up some paper plates--it was an in and out job--and I ran into M and S. M had been one of those regular customers at RB Foods that sat for hours in the mornings at the tables near the windows. Those boys would talk for hours about politics, news and each other. They would harange me and I would tease them. When we had an emergency, those regulars were right there, helping us or each other out. They were almost like a family to me. M especially, and another customer A. A was a retired engineer. He was amazing and sad, all at the same time. He was an alcoholic and slept in the same bed with his rather dirty dog, so you can imagine what he smelled like. He could build or fix just about anything, quote all the dead white guys and a few of the dead black guys, too. He made the best maraschino cherries--doubly good for the everclear they were packed in. Which brings me to another regular: Dr. B. As you may know, it can be a slight bit difficult to get everclear in Washington, but Dr. B was able to get this substance for A every year. Dr. B was a homeopathic doctor. References to this man popped up throughout my life when I was in my 20's. He still taught, and I met one of his students at a party. This young man told me that he loved Dr. B and that he had once given his entire class ephedra so they could experience the effect. I however, had always been wary of Dr. B. He was fond of offering me expensive things, like cars or a place to live. I felt these things probably had a string attached so I ignored the offers. That was proven true when I ran into A one day (I can't remember if it was walking around the neighborhood or up at Fred Meyers--I used to run into A everywhere). While we were talking, he told me that he'd just remembered that he was supposed to give me something. He handed me Dr. B's card and said "he told me to tell you that he has unlimited funds." I raised my eyebrow at him and he shrugged, saying "don't kill the messenger." I threw the card away in the nearest receptical and the only thing that could have made me wait to do so would have been if an incinerator had been nearby.
When I ran into M at Costco that day, he told me that Dr. B had passed on. I didn't know what to feel about it. Today I finally thought to look up the obituary. He was an interesting and well loved man. But boy did he creep me out.
X-posted with some edits on my LJ
Labels: Richmond Beach
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