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Bryburcon.com Headquarters front yard & poodle potty break January 2004

QUE?

I have needed to conduct interviews in Spanish during my career with Employment Security. Since Unemployment Insurance claims are filed according to Social Security numbers, I need to ask a person's SSA Number in order to access the information on their claim. One day I began the process, and I asked, "Su numero de Seguro Social? (your Social Security number?)" "Cinco tres ocho…(five, three, eight)." "OK…" "Ocho…" "OK…." "Ocho"…."OK…" "Ocho…" At that time I began to realize that this particular Social Security number had too many 8's, and almost simultaneously I also realized that, the "K" in "OK" would sound exactly like "Que?" which means, "What?"

Going to work one morning during the dead heat of winter. Crested a railroad overpass and felt the unmistakable sign of an iced highway. I told myself, "Boy, are these Florida rednecks gonna have fun this morning. They're not used to this kind of stuff." I'd been stationed in Denver, Colorado and would drive in those kinds of conditions just for the fun of it. Only three guys wound bottom-side-up in a ditch that morning. Not too bad for a bunch of southern rednecks.Bill Johns 10-25-03

CUSTOMER SERVICE ON ICE

It was a few years ago, and I was living in my motor home below the house in Vaughn. I woke up to a blanket of pristine snow, and I was at the time commuting to work about an hour and a half (when the roads were dry) to Olympia. The place in Vaughn sits at the bottom of two steep hills. Although it is rare in our rainy Puget Sound area for us to be snowbound, sometimes I had to leave the valley by the less steep of the two hills and "go around through Key Center" in order to get out of the area. That morning I elected to go the shorter way up the steeper hill because I saw no other vehicle tracks. I figured I would have good traction on the crunchy, dry snow.

I made it up the hill with no other trouble than wondering if I were still on the road because of the usual features such as ditches being beneath snow. Through Key Center "the short way" and off of the Key Peninsula at a slow but steady speed. I turned onto Highway 16, which runs through Gig Harbor and then over the Narrows Bridge and through Tacoma. Highway 16 is a busy thoroughfare heavily traveled by commuters, and conditions worsened the further I drove. The hour grew later, and those commuters packed down the snow, squeezing it into ice in places, throwing it into deep slush piles in others. My little red Ford Ranger truck began to twirl around some, but I kept on until I turned onto Interstate 5 and headed south toward Olympia.

Snow began in earnest, and the ice beneath the snow cover brought traffic to a crawl. By then I was playing chicken with 18-wheelers and a million other little bugs beside myself they were trying to smash. I had come near the Madigan Army Hospital Exit when my cell phone rang. It was Mindy. "Mom! Where are you? You get yourself back here! This mess is supposed to get very, very bad by night."

"Okay," I told her. "I had just now made the decision to turn around and come back home. I'm in Tacoma at the Madigan Exit."

I slowly worked my way through Tacoma and caught Highway 16, then over the Narrows Bridge and through Gig Harbor. A County Sheriff in a cruiser with flashing lights blocked the highway entrance to traffic leading to Key Center and Vaughn. I kept on going and then turned and began trying to circle around and get to Vaughn through Burley's back roads.

That was when my luck ran out.

PART TWO

The Ranger got me a little way up a Burley hill, and then I began to slide sideways toward a steep bank. I gave up the fight and allowed my truck to roll back down to the bottom of the hill. There I saw four or five vehicles that had slid off of the road into the ditches, a big earthmover among them. I tried for a little while to get moving again, but each time I would start forward the Ranger's rear end would get closer to the ditch. There I sat, stalled both mentally and physically.

A County Sheriff's cruiser appeared behind me, and a thirtyish looking man got out of it and walked up to my truck window. "Can't get 'er moving up the hill?" he asked. I explained that I fishtailed toward the bank every time I tried to move, and he said I could try to detour through the Christmas tree farms. No, I told him, I would rather sit until I could get a tow truck than risk that. He paused, and then he said, "Ma'am, I'm not supposed to drive a civilian's vehicle, but I can get you up that hill."

"Fine," I said. "Hop in. If I go off the road out there in the Christmas tree farms nobody will find me until spring."

I walked around the front of the truck and then belted myself into the passenger's seat. John Doe (I still remember his name, but I can't tell because of the "civilian's vehicle" thing.) got into the driver's seat, and then he backed way up. Up that hill we went, fishtailing with ice and snow flying up in an amazing cloud. I laughed like a kid on a ride at the fair. "Well, John Doe, it's been nice knowing you. We're going over that bank!" I yelled. John parked the Ranger at the top of the hill with just a tiny forward tilt downward. He got out, grinned and touched the brim of his hat. "There you are, ma'am. Take care now." He returned to his cruiser with light steps; his feet seemed to know and love the mess on the ground. Then he was off to see about the other drivers. I haven't seen him since.

I made it home to Vaughn through the ice and slush. That night we had the worst ice storm anybody in these parts has ever seen. We were snowbound for a week. I couldn't praise John to his superiors for his unforgettable customer service, but even with all the people I have met and mostly forgotten since then I still remember his name and the look of cheerful happiness he wore as he rescued the stuck and the stalled that day. THE END

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August 31, 2003

Bremerton, Washington

Kentucky Fried Chicken to the rescue for an impromptu mini family reunion. Present were Martha Johns Hoover and her friend, Ted; Gerry and Mike Fay; Mindy and Tad Brocenos; Lloyd Baxter; Valerie Wiese and her children Vince, Lindsay and Alex. Also present were poodles Cody and Carille and Bryburcon.com editor, Virginia Bryant.

The little kids were fascinated by the poodles, and the poodles, I soon realized, had never been in close proximity to little kids. They were obviously bewildered and terrified of these midgets who chased them around the yard with shrieks and very short turn radii. They managed to flex and soon relaxed, but I put them back into the kennel in order to keep kids, fried chicken and puppy dogs separate. I hadn't been able to keep kids and blackberries separate, and we had some interesting moments cleaning squished blackberries off of the picnic table bench.

Providing comedy entertainment was Lloyd Baxter who, thinking it was Cody or Carille who had escaped from the kennel, chased a light colored poodle down the street (who ran for its life.) Upon checking the kennel I discovered that we still had the correct number of pups, and we never found out who the escapee was. We figure that it is probably out of state by now though, still running for its life.

FAMILY LATE 20TH CENTURY

My grandchildren consisted of one toddler and one infant in October of 1987. My daughter, Mindy, decided that for the future benefit of the children we should pose for a portrait with them. There would be the two children, their parents and their four grandparents. It was a rare occurrence for all four grandparents to be in the same state. So, off to the portrait studio we all went.

The photographer rubbed her hands together and asked brightly, "And who do we have here?" My (then) son-in-law, David, answered, "We are two children, their parents and their grandparents." The photographer sized us up, and then she glanced at my ex and me. "Let's see…you are married to him?" she asked. "NO, we are divorced," I replied. She then looked at the paternal grandparents. "You and you are married?" "NO, we are divorced." By then she was hesitant to attempt to group anyone, and she looked pleadingly at David, the father. He said quickly, looking at Mindy, "We are married." Visibly relieved, the photographer said, "Uh… OK, let's put you and you together."

Mindy spoke, "Look, I should get a Nobel Prize for just getting these people together into one room. You tell them where to stand, and they will stand there." Suddenly inspired, the photographer plunged bravely ahead and said, "OK! Let's have the adults…uh… wearing glasses in front seated with the children. The others stand in the back." So, that's how we did it. I think that my strongly stated, "NO!" is the reason that my ex and I are at opposite corners of the family.

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Hard Wired

I was driving my big Guy Truck in Tacoma the other day. My son, Lloyd, sat beside me, strapped into the passenger seat. I bought the truck with the idea to put a camper on it, and since then Lloyd has preferred to ride with me instead of acting as driver, himself, in his own little Ford Ranger truck. These days he says let's take the Silverado (Like a Rock!!) because it has better air-conditioning. This trip we had gone to the cell phone place to upgrade his phone to one that transmits pictures, another toy that seems to make guys glassy eyed.

Lloyd lives in Tacoma close to his job and school, and he has ridden all over the north end of the city on his bike. This trip he directed me on a route through the north end to show me the beautiful older homes there. The streets tend to be narrow, and sometimes they are paved with bricks. I was cruising along, admiring the houses, when the lineup of six or seven vehicles ahead of me suddenly flashed red taillights. The little compact car just ahead of me braked to an abrupt stop, possible for a lightweight vehicle. I crammed on the brakes and gripped the Silverado's steering wheel, hoping that all of that weight would stop in time.

We stopped without hitting the little car, and then I returned to the here and now inside the truck. Lloyd sat there with the strangest expression on his face. He stared at my right arm which I had thrown across him without even realizing I had done it. A little smile flitted across his face as he said, "Aw! That was such a mommy thing to do. Thanks, Mom. You're 'da greatest." I replied, "Well, you didn't smash into the windshield, now did you?" "Yes, Mom, and it was all because of that little bitty arm of yours," he said.

He is six feet tall, weighs two-hundred well-conditioned pounds, and he was in a seatbelt. However, by golly, it still was my job to catch him, as it will be for the rest of my life. Talk to that program running in the background of my brain if you don't agree; a program that takes over the computer when it receives a "danger" command. One time I did something similar to what I had done for him when Mindy and I were walking across an intersection in the city. Again, without realizing that I had done it, I reached out and took a death-grip on her hand. She laughed and said, "I'm thirty years old now, Mom. I can cross a street by myself."

washington wild flowers

LtoR Buttercup, Scotch Broom, Poppy, Strawberry

SOMETIMES THE GOOD GUY WINS

He is my grandson, and he was born one of those entities just too sweet for belief. It seems that most of us come here with at least one "freebie", some attribute that we don't have to struggle to develop. Nate's freebie, his gift, is his unquestioning acceptance of the rest of us, a belief in our goodness whether we deserve it or not.

He has had some pain in growing up because he does not possess the razor sharp ability to cut through the mysteries of life that his sister has. (I am convinced that his brain is a case of "early specialization" for I have witnessed brilliance in him at times when he was concentrating on his interests.) He is the Absent Minded Professor, though. Sometimes we have laughed at his confusion, knowing that he will forgive us without hesitation.

His mother asked him if he was going to the Homecoming Dance. No, he told her. He had asked two girls, and they both had turned him down. Nobody wanted to go with him, so he was going to stay home. He is only a freshman.

Enter Nate's Older Sister With the Razor Sharp Abilities, my granddaughter. She swims with the big fishies. With cheerleaders sometimes. Ask "Jane Doe" to the dance, she tells her brother. Jane is drop dead gorgeous. A Junior. A Cheerleader. A real person. Nate laughed at the silly idea. Oh sure, me and Jane Doe, right. His mother smiled in spite of herself. I would have cried and told him to heck with the Homecoming Dance. No, no, really, says his sister; ask Jane Doe, Nate. His Sister With the Abilities did not tell him then that Jane had said Nate is just the sweetest thing, that she doesn't have time for the jocks with their attitudes.

So Nate ambled over to the phone to call Jane and mumbled a bashful request.

"Yes."

Huh?

He returned with a smile big as Texas on his face. His mother and sister dressed him fit to kill and helped him select the prettiest corsage they could find. The Two Who Turned Him Down are probably still bug-eyed after seeing him and Jane enter the dance. His Sister told me that she looked at them a few minutes later, and six girls were circling him, all dancing with him at the same time. I fell heir to the most beautifully innocent sexy photo yet shot in the 21st Century which I could cry over I am so happy with it. Nate's mom, my daughter, said, "I will always love that girl for what she has done for him." So will his Grandma. You go, Good Guy!

Yay, Nate!!!

Virginia gets chauffeured to work on the last day in Jaguar style by co-worker, Joe

The Passage

August 18, 1959, I began working at my first "real" job. I was a high school senior, and I went to work for the Tampa Tribune taking classified ads using a manual typewriter. I was hired to work twenty hours per week while I was attending school half a day, finishing up my credits for high school graduation. The job paid one dollar per hour. I would work off and on for a number of years for the Tribune, in school, out of school, single, married, pregnant. The November before Mindy was born I was on the phone with an advertiser who told me the President had been shot. The job with the Tribune financed most of my college. I quit the Tribune and went back so many times they finally would no longer take me back.

Between that job and the one with Employment Security in Washington State I worked as a bookkeeper, an English teacher, a housekeeper, three days as a waitress, a Welfare worker in California, a farmer.

January, 1980, I hired on with Employment Security taking Unemployment claims. My son, Lloyd, was two and a half years old. During these past twenty-two plus years I have processed new and continuing inter and intra state claims, worked as an adjudicator making decisions on eligibility for UI benefits, helped people find work and conducted job readiness workshops. I key almost everything I do into a computer. I have quit ES and have gone back four times. I was dressing for work on September 11, 2001, when the newscaster said a big airplane had crashed into the World Trade Center in New York.

Today, August 30, 2002, is my last day working for Employment Security. During the years between now and my first day with the Tampa Tribune I have gone from high school senior to grandma of high schoolers. The jobs I have done have enabled me to meet my goals of taking care of my family and of retiring at a young enough age to enjoy independence. I appreciate the privilege of working for a living, but I walk through this passage with a happy heart. Hasta La Vista, Employment Security. Bosses. Five AM alarms. Feeling grateful for the occasional three-day weekend. The best is yet to come.

THE HORNETS

July 9, 2002

When I was very small a woman stood up in our Holy Roller church and belted out a song about the hornets. "Oh, they won't make you go against your will, but they'll make you willin' to go-o!" It had something to do with God and salvation. Anyhow, this week I've been thinking about the hornets making a person willing to go. That's because after I submitted my resignation at work, and here and there entertained the notion that I may agree to work part-time for the agency after August 30; this week has made me willing to go.

It began when the man who does the "ERI's" (Employability Review Interviews) first scheduled a full roster of eighty of them for this week although he knew he was going to be out on leave. We figure he did that that to trap his designated "back-up" into doing the work of both of them. The two of them loathe each other, and the usual ERI man sneers at the back-up for his perceived laziness. The eighty ERI's began arriving on Monday, and I, not the back-up, fell heir to the job since the back-up reports he has come down with some horrible malaise and has spent the week dealing with his own bodily needs. Co-worker #1 genuinely likes me and will be appalled when he returns and discovers whom he hit with the job. (Another memory from childhood here, a song we used to sing: "Oh, have you ever been hit with a bucket of …...") There's nobody to take over my usual tasks while I do ERI's.

The Order Control staffer is out also. This is one area in which I have had the foresight to decline learning something in the new computer system, and when people arrive at my desk with call-back notices from employers wanting to place job orders, I say, "Sorry. I don't know how." I think they drafted one of the veterans' reps to take the new job orders.

Typing and Windows 2000 testing for one of the big employers - again a full roster. By the time someone stood in my cubicle and held out the schedule I had figured out how to NOT raise my hand and take it. Another mad scramble later, and they had persuaded two people who usually have other things to do to do the testing.

We couldn't find the week's master list of the ERI's, and I figured out that I could ask the computer for daily lists, which lack some data that I need in order to figure out who the Quality Control people in Olympia need to audit. Go ahead, Olympia, make my day, and complain when you don't get any audit clients. Especially since I called all over the state trying to find somebody who could tell me how to get the master list from the computer. The daily lists will have to do. Better than nothing.

Two days into the week I realize that a very big part of doing ERI's consists of talking to people about rescheduling appointments for them and of listening to their reasons for not reporting in "I can't come in because I am sick - or don't have transportation - or don't have a babysitter- or, etc. " Some of those Excuse Calls have a remote sound as though they are coming from Hawaii.

The computer has been offline all day, and now the copier won't work.

Last Wednesday I had oral surgery, and now my mouth hurts like stink because the sutures are pulling against the healing surgery site. Tomorrow I'm going to have to leave early no matter what else is happening because the surgeon is going to hurt me by yanking those sutures out without an anesthetic. Don't mess with me. No matter what roster of who you want to hand to me. Just don't mess with me. See that calendar on my cubicle wall with the green highlighter over dates up to today and the yellow highlighter covering dates through August 30? The green is what I've marked off day by interminable day of the home stretch, and the yellow is what I have to work before I retire. You can't make me go against my will, but you can make me willing to go.

DAY TRIP

Today, Friday May the 17th, Mindy and I went to Seattle to celebrate her birthday. It was a fantastic day, clear and cool. If you watch Frasier, you will see that oftentimes in the background outside of the apartment window there is rain falling. That's because Seattle gets lots and lots of rain. But not today, and the trip over on the ferry was gorgeous. If you come to see us we will take you on a ferry ride to Seattle, and then you can watch the breathtaking view as the city slowly comes into view.

We found a parking space in a lot on Fourth & Virginia Streets. Easy to remember. Getting back down to the waterfront wasn't very easy because the Seattle Police and Fire Departments had a five block area roped off, and dozens of emergency vehicles were parked there, blocking every intersection. We stood at the police barrier tape and listened to the other rubberneckers talk. Somebody said there was a jumper in the skyscraper across the road. Another said there had been a shooting with multiple victims. Another said there was a hazardous material spill, and the rent-a-cop near us said maybe anthrax. A King 5 News helicopter hovered overhead, and soon that was joined by other helicopters. The correct answer turned out to be a hazardous spill, not anthrax.

Down to Pike Street Market we went. One can spend nearly as much time there as one can spend in Epcot Center. We ate at a Mediterranean restaurant in a little courtyard, a delicious chicken stew. Street singers performed on nearly every corner; a black ensemble singing the blues, an Irish fiddler, a woman Western fiddler, a Mexican man. The scents greeted us from out of the restaurants; curry, TexMex, Starbucks coffee. We bought a backpack into which Mindy loaded most of the heavy things from our purses, and I swallowed Tylenol for my aching feet and back, washing it down with berry flavored fizzy water we got from a street peddler. We bought huge bouquets of dried flowers to join the CD's we had bought featuring the black singers.

Late in the afternoon we found the car again (Mindy helping to pull me back uphill). Then we followed the signs to get back to the ferry. It was warm enough for us to stand on the outside deck to watch the multimillion dollar waterfront estates slide past. Then, after an hour's ride, Bremerton again and a thump thump as the huge ferry hit up against rubber wrapped pilings. Bremerton we laughed at because after Seattle Bremerton appears puny. Seattle is a rootin' tootin' vigorous big city with a peculiarly sweet and clean atmosphere. My late husband used to say that it's clean here because they wash the air every day.

We arrived back at my house where Mindy had parked her Jeep. The Bremerton Police were across the road checking out a crazily parked abandoned stolen car. Mindy said, "Gosh, Mom. Did you arrange all of these shows just for my birthday? You're really good." Then she went home where birthday cake, gifts and an evening out for karaoke awaited, and I slept in the recliner at my house for several hours.

HOW POOR FAMILY PLANNING CAN GIG MOTHER'S DAY IN GIG HARBOR
BY VIRGINIA

Mother's Day, 2002, was a day that kept threatening to unravel, but it didn't. Mindy, Lloyd, Hillary, Nathan and I managed to get to the same restaurant at approximately the same time and have a Mother's Day/Grandmother's Day/Birthday/Birthday/Mother-Daughter Reconciliation. Since Lloyd has a cell phone that can talk for free with my cell phone after hours he and I made the preliminary plans to meet in Gig Harbor Sunday, May 12th, at the Harbor Inn at twelve-thirty. Then I called Mindy and invited her. Big Mistake. Why had I asked her after the fact? Is she the Bad Child this week? She always knew I Loved Him Best. (She was kidding of course. Really.) I persuaded her to meet us. At the Harbor Inn. At twelve-thirty Sunday.

Early Sunday morning Mindy called me and said Hillary was going to spend the day with her boyfriend, totally brushing off the occasion. She had offered some "lame" excuse, saying that she wanted her brother (Nathan) to be able to "spend quality time" with their mom. After I thought about that I called back and talked with Hillary, telling her that she really should think about the times in her life when someone missed an important occasion, about how she felt that she didn't matter. Then I laid on some heavy-duty guilt because of her neglecting her mother, and I hung up.

I called Lloyd on his cell phone. He said he had called the Harbor Inn, and they had no more reservations they could make, that I should let him know if I could make alternate plans. So I called the Harvester in Gig Harbor since he would be tied up and unable to make the call. The woman at the Harvester said sure, they would have no problem seating five. (I assumed that Hillary and Nathan might be there too. Luckily.)

Hillary called, and in a desperate Little Girl Voice, said, "Gran-n-ndma! I TOLD Mom that I had changed my mind and wanted to go out to eat with her, but SHE DROVE OFF AND LEFT ME-E-E!!! Can YOU come get me?" I decided I would go all the way to Vaughn to get her even if it made us late meeting the others. Mindy, Hillary said, had left early so that she could take the time to get Lloyd a birthday gift, and she had taken Nathan with her. After I arrived in Vaughn Hillary picked Mindy a quick bouquet of flowers (out of Mindy's own garden), and we drove off for Gig Harbor. We stopped by a little strip mall so I could get money out of the bank for Lloyd's birthday gift, and Hillary bought Mindy a birthday card (the Mother's Day Cards were all sold out). Hillary said, "Hand me a pen, Grandma. I'm going to perform surgery on this birthday card to make it a Mother's Day card."

We arrived at the Harbor Inn in case anybody hadn't gotten the voice mail messages I had left, and we saw Mindy's red Jeep there. I sent Hillary inside to tell her we had reservations at the Harvester. Lloyd called me on my cell phone to tell me to stay at the Harbor Inn, that Mindy had gotten us a table there. I walked up to that restaurant, and I met all of them marching out of it. Mindy said the buffet was $18.95 per plate, and she had given up the table she had "had a fit to get" (a fit she hadn't had much trouble working up to since she already had a full head of steam thanks to Hillary's blowing off Mother's Day.). By the time I encountered them walking out of the Harbor Inn she was over her mad at Hillary because of getting her own flowers in a little bouquet and because of the birthday/Mother's Day card.

So that's how we all ended up at the Harvester at the same time to have Mother's Day. Mindy had gotten Lloyd an awesome tropical looking tree/plant and a funny Brother Birthday Card; he told her he would take her out to shop for her birthday; afterward he met me in Tacoma to buy me web design software for Mother's Day; I gave both of them money; and I made plans to spend the 17th, Mindy's birthday, in Seattle with her. Mindy gave me three movies for Mother's Day and a hilarious card. Hillary and Nathan told stories of how Lloyd tormented them when they were little. Then Mindy told stories of how she tormented Lloyd, and Lloyd said I sometimes helped her do it. (Did she and I really get on either side of his little head and whisper different things at the same time, causing his eyes to spin around like roulette wheels?) We all laughed until other diners stared. Lloyd and Nathan drove off to Tacoma to meet me at the computer store. Mindy and Hillary left together laughing.

Years ago I just wasn't thinking. Mindy born May 17, 1964. Lloyd May 11, 1977. Three times since Lloyd's birth his birthday has fallen directly on Mother's Day. The last time that happened I took him out to eat, and forget wining and dining ME since he was young and poor. 2003 it's going to happen again, when Taurus is in the House of Mom. He was an adolescent before his disgruntled sister thought it was cool to celebrate their birthdays together.

This year we had sort of what amounted to his, hers, mine and ours. Birthdays overlapping Mother's Day partway and partly by themselves. I should be used to it all getting mixed up together by now. At least I no longer have to carefully keep their birthdays separate. Mindy and Lloyd sometimes pair off to needle me now that they don't need to needle each other non-stop, and I at last think that's alright too since they will need to rely on each other to handle the future when I'm long gone. Happy Birthday, Mindy and Lloyd. That was the coolest Mother's Day yet.

Virginia Visits the Twilight Zone

It started about a week ago. There was a pop-up ad on my computer screen when I opened the Internet. The ad informed me that I had been using a "trial" service, which screens pop-up ads and eliminates them from intruding in my Internet visits. Would I like to order the filter for only $20-something, a one-time charge. Why not? So I opened the address listed in the pop-up ad from the pop-up ad filter service. It works. Sort of. Now the only pop-up ad I get is from the pop-up ad filter service. Always. And they send me canned replies when I write my increasingly wild woman letters telling them to get their pop-up ad off my computer. Now. Tonight there was an e-mail from the company who referred me to the P-U-A company asking how I like the software. Ah-ha! They got the entire back and forth correspondence in reply. Will keep you posted.

I called my home voice mail from work today. There was a message from Fed-Ex telling me that they had attempted to deliver a package but "The driver could not get through the quarantine barricade." Say WHAT? Here I sit just a mile away from a major port for the US Navy, just minutes away from the Trident Submarine Base, and I'm being quarantined? If this ever happens to you, do not, (I repeat, DO NOT) call the Bremerton Police Department. Unless you want to find yourself feeling that you have talked to an infant with an attitude. Finally I did get out of the rep from the BPD that I should call the Health Department. Same result. Same with the Environmental Protection Agency. I got better results from the Bremerton Sun City Editor who said he would "have a reporter check it out."

A short time after September 11, 2001, I (sitting up here on my hillside in West Bremerton) heard loud explosions coming from the vicinity of the shipyard down in the harbor. That was my first lesson on how not to call the BPD. Only voice mail at the Bremerton Sun. On impulse I called the Navy. "Oh," said a pre-pubescent sounding sailor, "this is the Bremerton Centennial, and they are having fireworks in the celebration." Right. That's a smart thing to be doing in this military city right after the worst terrorist attack in US history.

Tonight when I arrived home I found a day glow lime green tag on my door. It informed me that Bremerton is going to turn off the water for a few hours on Thursday for maintenance on the water system. Mystery solved about the "quarantine" that stopped our Fed-Ex driver.

WASHINGTON FALL

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