Windy Has Stormy Eyes

I remember when I first moved to The Pacific NW., I knew truly little about the place other than the fact that everybody was moving here. I heard it rained here all the time; people were overly polite and and it was difficult to make new friends. I read this in magazines and the hyperbolic chatter of friends. I needed something drastically different and we decided to move out west.

Though equal parts arduous work and the influence of friends I landed a prestigious position with a darling of the high-tech industry. The company put me up in a hotel for a few weeks so I could figure out the lay of the land. I remember one of my first days at the office, everybody rushed to look out the window at something quite out of the ordinary. I looked out the window and was moderately impressed with the cool stream running across campus. It took me a while to figure out what they were so interested in. The sun made an appearance in early November. I did not realize it at the time, but that year was one for the record books we received an out of proportion large amount of rain that year. People still refer to it as simply 1997.

By the third week of November, I was living in a house just outside of Seattle. The weather forecast called for warming temperatures, blustery, winds, and plenty of rain. The weather started getting capricious by the time I got home from work. I went for a short run when I got home. It was blustery and certainly wet and kind of fun. I love wicked weather runs.

When I was 12 years old, our family lived through hurricane Agnes, and I got that same creepy feeling sitting on the couch that night as the storm intensified. Hurricane Agnes wiped out our family home, over a week’s time, yet that was tepid when compared to Seattle windstorm rains in November. They are eerie, they are weird and they are relentless. They are also beautiful. There is so much beauty in the world you simply must seek it out even on days where the power is struggling to stay on.

Yesterday was a day such as this. October was early for a storm of such intensity. Much like many years ago I got out for a run just to experience the weather. I absolutely love these runs. It was spectacular with swirling leaves and temperate wind driven rain. Later that night, the skies opened, the winds picked up, and the weather was out of control. It was just like I remembered it. It took me back to many years ago when the wind picked up like this.

Here I was back in Seattle again.

Eventually, the power would go out and there was nothing else I could do. This happened often in November.

I do not know how I produced the idea, but it worked. When the power went out, I would walk back to the shed in the yard and gather a handful of firewood. Usually, by now the rain was whipping in the wind.

I would get a beer from the refrigerator. I still remember the beer. It was Henry. Weinhards. Back then wheat beers were unique and newer to me. It felt so Pacific Northwest to drink that beer. Once I got the fire cracking, I had enough light so I could write. I would then venture into a letter writing campaign.

Yes, good old-fashioned letters for a pencil and paper. Every letter I wrote was to my grandmother. She was once a librarian and really liked to read letters. Her letters had the most beautiful handwriting that I can only give to an entire generation. I could barely see the page I was writing on. My handwriting was of the next generation. I loved to write as the storms worked their magic deep into the night.

Many years later, I drove from upstate New York down to Pennsylvania to visit my grandmother. It was autumn and autumn is different than in the northeast compared to the Pacific Northwest. They are both spectacular. Still, it had a nice crisp autumnal feel to it.

I walked into my grandmother ‘s house and she was happy to see me. There on the dining room table, set every letter I had ever written to her. There were a lot of them.