By Louie Ferrera

Carol and I dropped our daughter Denali off at college last week. It was a momentous occasion and a watershed day in our lives. I don’t think Denali was able to fully grasp the enormity of this moment but Carol and I were hyper-aware of its importance. It was a bittersweet day for sure. I was so happy for our daughter and bursting with pride over everything she’s accomplished in order to get to where she is today. But I also felt sadness and a sense of loss. Denali would most likely never again live in our home full time.

Since Denali graduated high school in June, I’ve been doing lots of reflecting back, each memory a snapshot of a moment in her life. Long before I began publishing my essays in this blog, I dabbled a bit with writing stories for children, one of which recounts one of those snapshots: a special morning that Denali and I used to share when she was just a toddler. The other day I went back and reread that story, took its essence and completely rewrote it. Here it is. 

Rocking Chair

Dawn is trying really hard to break, its pale light barely illuminates our bedroom. My wife Carol is asleep beside me, our cat Bugsy a black and white ball of fur in the crook of her legs. I’m drifting somewhere between the dream I was lost in and the new day that’s just beginning. That’s when I become aware of a presence at my side of the bed. “Daddy, I want to go in the rocking chair” you whisper. I peel the covers off, swing my feet over the side of the bed, gather you into my arms and down the hall we shuffle towards the living room. My feet make a soft swish, swish sound against the carpet, your head rests on my shoulder, your tiny arms are wrapped around the back of my neck.

I plop down onto the rocking chair with you in my lap. This rocking chair doesn’t really rock like the classic chair with curved runners affixed to the bottom, rather it moves forward and backwards on hinges.  For extra warmth I cover us with your favorite quilt, handmade especially for me by the grandparent of a former first grade student of mine. This is a county fair, blue ribbon quality piece of art decorated with motifs of musical notes and instruments.

Light slowly begins to fill the room. With sunrise on the way, the promise of a new day is before us. Color needs light however so right now everything appears in varying shades of pre-dawn grey, adding a dream-like quality to the scene. The soft hum of the furnace and the squeak, squawk as we move back and forth in the rocking chair are the only sounds. Some mornings we share a bowl of crunchy breakfast cereal while I read you a story but today is simply a “snuggle up together and listen to the quiet” kind of morning.  You’ve got your favorite pajamas on, the ones with feet and pictures of kittens on them. Your body is soft and warm next to mine, your long auburn hair smells of the baby shampoo from last nights bath. After a few minutes I hear your breathing change and notice that you’ve fallen back to sleep.

I cherish these morning with you and savor each moment knowing full well that in the blink of an eye you’ll be grown up and about to strike out into the world on your own. But right now the world has shrunken and everything is exactly as it should be while we’re together here in the rocking chair.

By Louie Ferrera

I had to run to Safeway the other day to pick up a few items. If I’m in a hurry I sometimes use one of the automatic checkout kiosks, yea they’re dehumanizing and one of the many manifestations of our increasingly impersonal society, but when I want to get out of the store in a hurry, I just grin and bear it. Yesterday was not one of those days so I chose a checkout lane with an actual person behind the register.

The sudden passing of my dear friend Kim last week is still fresh in my mind and weighing heavily on my heart. I went through this checkout lane hoping for a bit of real human interaction, I wanted the chance to put some light and kindness out into the world like Kim always did. Kim had a way of making a complete stranger or  someone she had just met feel like a long lost friend. Her manner was so gentle and accepting, Kim would hold them in that intense gaze of hers and and there would be no doubt that she was totally present. So with Kimmy in mind, I got into the queue in Lane #4.

Ringing up the sales was a pleasant and personable middle aged woman named Linda. Her short grey hair framed a round face, smiling blue eyes looked out from behind a pair of wire rimmed glasses. Linda had struck up a conversation with the guy in front of me. He had placed two large boxes of Popsicles onto the conveyor which prompted Linda to tell him that she also liked Popsicles but what she really loved were those 100% fruit juice Outshine Bars. She was going off on how she couldn’t get enough of her favorite flavor, tangerine/pomegranate. Linda’s manner so reminded me of that knack Kimmy had for bringing a stranger so easily into a conversation. I immediately joined in, sharing my love for Outshine Bar as well. While Linda bagged the guy’s groceries, she and I continued chatting. I told her that one of my passions were those coconut fruit bars that are often found in Mexican markets.  I had a few Mounds and Almond Joy bars among my items so she proceeded to sing a line from that old tv commercial; “Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t. Almond Joys have nuts, Mounds don’t”. I just cracked up!

As I was putting my groceries into the canvas bag that I’d brought, I told Linda how much I enjoyed our brief conversation and how nice it was to have had a real human interaction instead of a cold encounter with Siri. She smiled, wished me a god day and went on to the next customer in line. As I walked away I heard Linda immediately strike up the banter with the next person in line.

The world desperately needs more light, more love, more opportunities for meaningful human contact, more Lindas. With the pandemic finally receding in our collective rearview mirrors, there’s really no longer any excuse for not getting to know people, for not lending a smile and a kind word to a stranger, for not bringing someone out of their lonely bubble of isolation and into the light. This was a Kimmy moment for me. With her spirit in mind I tried to do my part to bring the light, to bring the love. Get out there yourself and spread the love. 

Love like Kimmy.

By Louie Ferrera

The fragility of life came into pinpoint focus for me last week when I learned of the passing of my dear friend Kim Kenney. How could such a shining beacon of light and love be extinguished so quickly? I last saw her two months ago at a three day music festival up in Mendocino. For Kim and I it was business as usual-we hugged, we laughed, we swilled tequila, we danced wildly to our favorite bands, we simply reveled in each others company. Before getting into my car to head home after the festival Kim and I shared one more deep and heartfelt hug, already looking forward to our next hangout at Camp Loma over Labor Day weekend. How could I possibly have known that this would be the last hug that we’d ever share?

Life is beautiful and heartbreaking, blissful and sad, filled with incredible highs and fathomless lows. This thing that we call life hangs by an oh so slender thread, a tether that can be severed all too suddenly. If ever I needed another reminder of just how precious and fragile life is, Kim’s passing has been the ultimate wake up call.

Listen: Love your friends, love your family, forget about petty differences, don’t hang on to stuff, get to know your neighbors, be kind, be caring, find a way every day to put some goodness out into the world, take chances, don’t postpone joy, hug your kids, tell those closest to you just how much you love them, and tell them often. Above all, live life like there’s no tomorrow because there will come a time when tomorrow will not come…for all of us.

Experiencing the passing of my dear Kimmy is devastating and has forced me to look unflinchingly at my own mortality. Death is harsh and final. Throughout the entirety of human history the  question “Where do I go when I die?” has been asked by everyone who’s ever lived. Now Kim knows.

So, maybe she’s at a String Cheese Incident show. It’s midnight on New Years Eve and the balloons are always dropping. Or perhaps she’s at the Greek Theater dancing to the Grateful Dead. The band is deep into one of their 2nd set jams and Kim is riding Jerry’s crystalline guitar notes out among the cosmos. Or maybe she’s just at Camp Loma and we’re all there too, basking in the collective love that we create whenever we’re together. Wherever you are my dear friend I hope that it’s a place filled with as much joy, love and light that you put out into the world while you were still among us. Rest in peace Kimmy. I love you.

On July 27, Carol and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary. How did I end up with this amazing woman as my life partner? More on that later.

Twenty years is a significant milestone so we wanted to do something extra special to mark the occasion. Initially we thought about having a big blowout, complete with a live band and all of our closest friends at a site in the redwoods. We quickly realized that the logistics of putting on a party like this were more that we were willing to take on, so Carol and I opted for something a little more our speed.

Since our kids came along eighteen years ago, opportunities for us to spend time together away from familial responsibilities have been few and far between. We also wanted to go somewhere new so the usual places (Point Reyes, Mendocino, Santa Cruz) were out. A couple of months ago one of us suggested the Seattle area. Being the travel agent of the family, Carol started researching places around Seattle and stumbled upon Vashon Island. We did some cursory reading up on Vashon, found a place on VRBO, booked our flight and were ready to go.

Our travel day was seamless. We landed at SeaTac airport, got our rental car and soon found ourselves on the Fauntelroy Ferry over to Vashon Island, a mere 15 minute ride across Puget Sound from the Tacoma area. As soon as we parked our car on the boat, Carol and I headed up top to enjoy the ride. The day was absolutely stellar! A cool breeze blew the hair back from our faces, salt air filled our lungs. Off to the starboard side of the boat the awe-inspiring sight of snow covered Mount Rainier dominated the landscape. It’s easy to see why the native peoples of the Pacific Northwest so revered this mountain. The power and energy emanating from Rainier was palpable.

Vashon Island is a heavily forested, peaceful world upon itself. There’s no traffic, no traffic lights, no freeways, no sirens, no crowds, no homeless camps and except for an Ace Hardware and a Subway, no chain stores. The downtown is comprised of small local businesses. There’s even a vintage single-screen movie theater. Most places were closed on the Monday that we arrived, on the other days nothing opened until 11:00am. We had stumbled upon something beautiful and increasingly rare in modern day Generica: a “real” place. The densely populated urban centers of Seattle/Tacoma are within sight of Vashon Island but they may as well be a thousand miles away.

The drive out to our place took us along the coast, up and down rolling hills and through the forest. Our aptly named Forest Cabin is situated at the end of a long gravel driveway. Nestled beneath huge broad leaf maple trees and towering madrones, this was the ideal place for Carol and I to unplug and reconnect with each other. The dappled light that was filtering down through the forest canopy brought to mind a similar location twenty years ago.

We were married in the midst of an enchanting place near our home in Santa Rosa called Griffith Woods. A small creek meanders through this predominantly redwood, oak and madrone woodland, the air is alive with the sounds of mysterious songbirds. On that day when Carol and I promised to love and honor each other for the rest of our lives, the dappled sunlight that played upon everyone and everything is a sight I will always hold dear in my memories of our wedding day. The light at our place here on Vashon and the light at Griffith Woods reach across time to embrace each other.

We unpacked, settled in then set off to explore our surroundings. A clawfoot tub sat just outside our cabin underneath a small cedar tree. It had running hot and cold water and even a showerhead. Strung beneath two massive maple trees were two hammocks. Carol and I would spend much time over the next few days at both of these places. A chicken coop sat on the other side of the hammocks. Several large birds roamed freely about and were the recipients of all our food scraps. A two minute walk from our little haven brought us to a bluff lined with more towering madrones and patches of huge white daisies. We surprised a bald eagle that was perched atop a snag. Dominated by Mount Rainier, the view across Puget Sound from here was breathtaking. It was one of those moments when I was simply speechless, breathing in the beauty and grateful to be alive. Over the course of our three days here we saw porpoises and harbor seals, osprey, Arctic Terns and Great Blue Herons all from our spot on these bluffs. On this first night we watched Rainier slowly be consumed by the alpenglow of sunset, the windows of the houses on the opposite side of the sound burned with the firelight of the setting sun.

There was much to explore on Vashon Island and Carol and I just managed to scratch the surface. One of my favorite things about this trip was our lack of a plan. We knew next to nothing about Vashon so we just let each day unfold on its own. This made for some wonderful discoveries. One day we decided to explore the west side of the island and happened upon Fern Cove. The pullout on the side of the road was wide enough for just a few cars. A short hike through the forest along an enchanting little creek brought us to the cove. It was a minus tide so the vast mudflats were exposed and easy to walk on. We watched an osprey atop a tall cedar tree devour a fish. A Great Blue Heron patrolled the shoreline, its long slender neck periodically shooting out to catch small silver fish in its beak. A pair of belted kingfishers chattered and flew about. Terns and gulls squawked and wheeled overhead. Ravens poked through the mud for clams and other morsels. Osprey were everywhere, their telltale whistles proceeding them. A lone hiker, walking stick in hand, moved slowly across the flats.  

And so it went for three beautiful days-exploring, relaxing, reconnecting. Carol and I couldn’t have picked a better place to celebrate our love and twenty years of marriage. It was hard to leave Vashon. Watching the island recede on the ferry back to the mainland, we vowed to someday return to this very special place. Oh, to answer the question of how I ended up with Carol? I guess you could say that I hit the jackpot!