Saturday, December 14, 2013

Christmas With The Mustache... Where The Wild Things Were in the '80s

Inside all of us is hope
Inside all of us is fear
Inside all of us is adventure
Inside all of us is a wild thing

Where the Wild Things Are

My promise in living with Chris and Andrew was that I would be sort of a mom. I never for a second regretted that offer and it was really fun cooking for them. I loved it when on cold winter nights I could hear either of them or sometimes them and a friend or band mate in the kitchen eating. What can I say? I was born a nervous ninny Mexican goat who loves to feed people. No matter where they were or how late, I admit, I prided myself on keeping my friends well-fed.

On nights that we all went our own ways... Andrew would either play piano at the library, play football in video arcades or just walk the streets of Seattle, meeting new people and listening to music. Chris would hide in the forest where it was very quiet. I think that would have been his other chosen life - some kind of loner nomad on a secret quest. Living alone in a forest someplace.

 I don't remember when it started, but at some point, he and Eric & Britt - old friends of his - and I started going to various parks at night with our black Labrador, "Bill the Dog." I  had special gloves I wore to play with Bill. My 'Bill Gloves' protected me from the beast he turned into when we wrestled. Chris would just watch us and laugh. There were sad nights after Andrew was gone where I dramatized throwing myself off the highest cliff into the water. It was probably just the tequila (don't ever give a monkey tequila). Chris wasn't having it. He physically picked me up and carried me quickly away and set me down, and said just one word:  "No." Small gestures in the forest at night go a long way. 

Sometimes we'd go to Discovery Park; sometimes to Gasworks Park on Lake Union. We had many special places in the forests and parks of Seattle, including the Soundgarden on Lake Washington. We'd walk and walk as far as we could. The rain, darkness, or cold never bothered us. At some point, a fire would be made, and words, dreams, and ideas would be exchanged. They were not the kind you share ever again, or maybe even remembered. They are to be stored in your subconscious forever, only to be borrowed from time to time for poetic and artistic inspiration.

 Oh please don't go. I'll eat you up I love you so 

Where the Wild Things Are

Indoors or outdoors, our lives were filled with melodies and dreams. What better a place than the forests of Seattle to wander at night... to take in the vibration of the very earth you walk on and let it resonate within you... move your very soul; to apply these adventures to your life - in his case his music - would be a gift someday to the world. 

It was those long winter months, when not a minute was spared creating these adventures, that have stayed with me and affected how I view the world. We'd stay until we'd exhausted ourselves  and as the sun rose, crisp mornings were spent in reflection and in silence.

 At home, the soup was waiting. 

One Christmas, Andy and I were at a toy store shopping, and we bought Chris the book Where the Wild Things Are. I remember smiling at the cover, thinking "There we are!" Andy said, "Ahh yes, you do slightly resemble the goat creature. Yes, he must have this book and may he keep it forever!" he exclaimed.

My holiday wish to Chris is that he always keeps that forest buried someplace in his heart and that he keeps exploring new ones with the same childlike enthusiasm. 

For Chris